Poems begining by O

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Of Paradise' existence

© Emily Dickinson

Of Paradise' existence
All we know
Is the uncertain certainty --
But its vicinity infer,
By its Bisecting
Messenger --

Of nearness to her sundered Things

© Emily Dickinson

Of nearness to her sundered Things
The Soul has special times --
When Dimness -- looks the Oddity --
Distinctness -- easy -- seems --

Of Nature I shall have enough

© Emily Dickinson

Of Nature I shall have enough
When I have entered these
Entitled to a Bumble bee's
Familiarities.

Of Life to own --

© Emily Dickinson

Of Life to own --
From Life to draw --
But never tough the reservoir --

Of God we ask one favor,

© Emily Dickinson

Of God we ask one favor,
That we may be forgiven --
For what, he is presumed to know --
The Crime, from us, is hidden --

Of Glory not a Beam is left

© Emily Dickinson

Of Glory not a Beam is left
But her Eternal House --
The Asterisk is for the Dead,
The Living, for the Stars --

Of Death I try to think like this --

© Emily Dickinson

Of Death I try to think like this --
The Well in which they lay us
Is but the Likeness of the Brook
That menaced not to slay us,

Of Brussels -- it was not --

© Emily Dickinson

Of Brussels -- it was not --
Of Kidderminster? Nay --
The Winds did buy it of the Woods --
They -- sold it unto me

Of Bronze -- and Blaze

© Emily Dickinson

My Splendors, are Menagerie --
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass --
Whom none but Beetles -- know.

Of Being is a Bird

© Emily Dickinson

Of Being is a Bird
The likest to the Down
An Easy Breeze do put afloat
The General Heavens -- upon --

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

© Emily Dickinson

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs --
That phraseless Melody --

Obtaining but our own Extent

© Emily Dickinson

Obtaining but our own Extent
In whatsoever Realm --
'Twas Christ's own personal Expanse
That bore him from the Tomb --

Over the fence

© Emily Dickinson

Over the fence --
Strawberries -- grow --
Over the fence --
I could climb -- if I tried, I know --
Berries are nice!

Our journey had advanced --

© Emily Dickinson

Our journey had advanced --
Our feet were almost come
To that odd Fork in Being's Road --
Eternity -- by Term --

One Year ago -- jots what?

One Year ago -- jots what?
God -- spell the word! I -- can't --
Was't Grace? Not that --
Was't Glory? That -- will do --
Spell slower -- Glory --

One Life of so much Consequence!

One Life of so much Consequence!
Yet I -- for it -- would pay --
My Soul's entire income --
In ceaseless -- salary --

On a Columnar Self --

On a Columnar Self --
How ample to rely
In Tumult -- or Extremity --
How good the Certainty

Of so divine a Loss

Of so divine a Loss
We enter but the Gain,
Indemnity for Loneliness
That such a Bliss has been.

Of Course -- I prayed

Of Course -- I prayed --
And did God Care?
He cared as much as on the Air
A Bird -- had stamped her foot --

Of Consciousness, her awful Mate

Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
The Soul cannot be rid --
As easy the secreting her
Behind the Eyes of God.