Poems begining by T
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Those who have been in the Grave the longest --
© Emily Dickinson
Those who have been in the Grave the longest --
Those who begin Today --
Equally perish from our Practise --
Death is the other way --
Those not live yet
© Emily Dickinson
Those not live yet
Who doubt to live again --
"Again" is of a twice
But this -- is one --
Those fair -- fictitious People
© Emily Dickinson
Those fair -- fictitious People --
The Women -- plucked away
From our familiar Lifetime --
The Men of Ivory --
Those cattle smaller than a Bee
© Emily Dickinson
Those cattle smaller than a Bee
That herd upon the eye --
Whose tillage is the passing Crumb --
Those Cattle are the Fly --
Tho' my destiny be Fustian
© Emily Dickinson
Tho' my destiny be Fustian --
Hers be damask fine --
Tho' she wear a silver apron --
I, a less divine --
Tho' I get home how late -- how late
© Emily Dickinson
To think just how the fire will burn --
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn --
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me --
Beguiles the Centuries of way!
This that would greet -- an hour ago --
© Emily Dickinson
This that would greet -- an hour ago --
Is quaintest Distance -- now --
Had it a Guest from Paradise --
Nor glow, would it, nor bow --
This slow Day moved along --
© Emily Dickinson
This slow Day moved along --
I heard its axles go
As if they could not hoist themselves
They hated motion so --
This Merit hath the worst --
© Emily Dickinson
This Merit hath the worst --
It cannot be again --
When Fate hath taunted last
And thrown Her furthest Stone --
This Me -- that walks and works -- must die,
© Emily Dickinson
This Me -- that walks and works -- must die,
Some fair or stormy Day,
Adversity if it may be
Or wild prosperity
This is the place they hoped before,
© Emily Dickinson
This is the place they hoped before,
Where I am hoping now.
The seed of disappointment grew
Within a capsule gay,
This is a Blossom of the Brain --
© Emily Dickinson
This is a Blossom of the Brain --
A small -- italic Seed
Lodged by Design or Happening
The Spirit fructified --
This Dust, and its Feature --
© Emily Dickinson
This Dust, and its Feature --
Accredited -- Today --
Will in a second Future --
Cease to identify --
This docile one inter
© Emily Dickinson
This docile one inter
While we who dare to live
Arraign the sunny brevity
That sparkled to the Grave.
This dirty -- little -- Heart
© Emily Dickinson
This dirty -- little -- Heart
Is freely mine.
I won it with a Bun --
A Freckled shrine --
This Consciousness that is aware
© Emily Dickinson
This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone
This Bauble was preferred of Bees --
© Emily Dickinson
This Bauble was preferred of Bees --
By Butterflies admired
At Heavenly -- Hopeless Distances --
Was justified of Bird --
They won't frown always -- some sweet Day
© Emily Dickinson
They won't frown always -- some sweet Day
When I forget to tease --
They'll recollect how cold I looked
And how I just said "Please."
They talk as slow as Legends grow
© Emily Dickinson
They talk as slow as Legends grow
No mushroom is their mind
But foliage of sterility
Too stolid for the wind --
They shut me up in Prose --
© Emily Dickinson
They shut me up in Prose --
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet --
Because they liked me "still" --
