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Authors: Emily Dickinson

The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (25 page)

BOOK: The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)
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Afraid? Of whom am I afriad?
After a hundred years
Ah, Teneriffe! Retreating Mountain!
A lady red upon the hill
A light exists in spring
A little madness in the Spring
A little overflowing word
A little over Jordan
A little road not made of man
All circumstances are the frame
All I may, if small
All overgrown by cunning moss
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep
Alter? When the hills do
Ambition cannot find him
A modest lot, a fame
petite
Ample make this bed
A murmur in the trees to note
An altered look about the hills
A narrow fellow in the grass
An awful tempest mashed the air
An everywhere of silver
Angels in the early morning
A poor torn heart, a tattered heart
Apparently with no surprise
A precious, mouldering pleasure ’t is
A prompt, executive Bird is the Jay
Arcturus is his other name
Are friends delight or pain?
A route of evanescence
As by the dead we love to sit
As children bid the guest good-night
A sepal, petal, and a thorn
As far from pity as complaint
A shady friend for torrid days
Ashes denote that fire was
A sickness of this world it most occasions
As if some little Arctic flower
As imperceptibly as grief
A sloop of amber slips away
A solemn thing it was, I said
A something in a summer’s day
A spider sewed at night
At half-past three a single bird
A thought went up my mind to-day
A throe upon the features
At last to be identified!
At least to pray is left, is left
A toad can die of light!
A train went through a burial gate
A triumph may be of several kinds
A word is dead
A wounded deer leaps highest
B
Beauty crowds me till I die
Because I could not stop for Death
Before I got my eye put out
Before the ice is in the pools
Before you thought of spring
Belshazzar had a letter
Bereaved of all, I went abroad
Besides the Autumn poets sing
Blazing in gold and quenching in purple
Bless God, he went as soldiers
Bloom upon the Mountain, stated
Bring me the sunset in a cup
C
Candor, my tepid Friend
Come slowly, Eden!
Could I but ride indefinite
Could mortal lip divine
Crisis is sweet and, set of Heart
D
Dare you see a soul at the white heat?
Dear March, come in!
Death is a dialogue between
Death is like the insect
Death sets a thing significant
Delayed till she had ceased to know
Delight becomes pictorial
Departed to the judgment
Did the harebell loose her girdle
Distance is not the realm of Fox
Doubt me, my dim companion!
Down Time’s quaint stream
Drab habitation of whom?
Dropped into the
Drowning is not so pitiful
Dust is the only secret
E
Each life converges to some centre
Each that we lose takes part of us
Eden is that old-fashioned House
Elijah’s wagon knew no thill
Elysium is as far as to
Essential oils are wrung
Except the heaven had come so near
Except the smaller size, no Lives are round
Except to heaven, she is nought
Exhilaration is the Breeze
Experiment to me
Exultation is the going
F
Faith is a fine invention
Fame is a fickle food
Far from love the Heavenly Father
Farther in summer than the birds
Fate slew him, but he did not drop
Father, I bring thee not myself
Few get enough,—enough is one
Finite to fail, but infinite to venture
Follow wise Orion
Forbidden fruit a flavor has
For Death,—or rather
For each ecstatic instant
Forever cherished be the tree
Frequently the woods are pink
From all the jails the boys and girls
From cocoon forth a butterfly
From us she wandered now a year
G
Give little anguish
Given in marriage unto thee
Glee! the great storm is over!
Glory is that bright tragic thing
Glowing is her Bonnet
God gave a loaf to every bird
God made a little gentian
God permits industrious angels
Going to heaven!
“Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him
Good night! which put the candle out?
Great streets of silence led away
H
Had this one day not been
Have you got a brook in your little heart
Heart not so heavy as mine
Heart, we will forget him!
He ate and drank the precious words
Heaven is what I cannot reach!
“Heavenly Father,” take to thee
He fumbles at your spirit
He preached upon “breadth” till it argued him narrow
He put the belt around my life
Her final summer was it
Her Grace is all she has
Her “Last Poems”
He touched me, so I live to know
High from the earth I heard a bird
His bill an auger is
His Cheek is his Biographer
His mind, of man a secret makes
Hope is a subtle glutton
Hope is the thing with feathers
How dare the robins sing
How destitute is he
How happy is the little stone
How many times these low feet staggered
How still the bells in steeples stand
How the old mountains drip with sunset
I
I bet with every Wind that blew, till Nature in chagrin
I breathed enough to learn the trick
I bring an unaccustomed wine
I cannot live with you
I can’t tell you, but you feel it
I can wade grief,
I did not reach thee
I died for beauty, but was scarce
I dreaded that first robin so
I envy seas whereon he rides
If anybody’s friend be dead
I felt a cleavage in my mind
I felt a funeral in my brain
If I can stop one heart from breaking
If I could tell how glad I was
If I may have it when it’s dead
If I should die
If I shouldn’t be alive
I fit for them
I found the phrase to every thought
If pain for peace prepares
If recollecting were forgetting
If the foolish call them “flowers”
If tolling bell I ask the cause
If what we could were what we would
If you were coming in the fall
I gained it so,
I gave myself to him
I had a daily bliss
I had a guinea golden
I had been hungry all the years
I had no cause to be awake
I had no time to hate, because
I have a king who does not speak
I have no life but this
I have not told my garden yet
I heard a fly buzz when I died
I held a jewel in my fingers
I hide myself within my flower
I know a place where summer strives
I know some lonely houses off the road
I know that he exists
I like a look of agony
I like to see it lap the miles
I lived on dread; to those who know
I live with him, I see his face
I’ll tell you how the sun rose
I lost a world the other day
I many times thought peace had come
I’m ceded, I’ve stopped being theirs
I meant to find her when I came
I meant to have but modest needs
I measure every grief I meet
Immortal is an ample word
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell!
I’m nobody! Who are you?
I’m thinking of that other morn
I’m wife; I’ve finished that
I never hear the word “escape”
I never lost as much but twice
I never saw a moor
I never told the buried gold
In lands I never saw, they say
I noticed people disappeared
In winter, in my room
I read my sentence steadily
I reason, earth is short,
Is bliss, then, such abyss
I see thee better in the dark
I send two Sunsets
I shall know why, when time is over
Is Heaven a physician?
I should have been too glad, I see
I should not dare to leave my friend
I showed her heights she never saw
I sing to use the waiting
I started early, took my dog
I stepped from plank to plank
I taste a liquor never brewed
It can’t be summer,—that got through
It dropped so low in my regard
I think just how my shape will rise
I think that the root of the Wind is Water
I think the hemlock likes to stand
It makes no difference abroad
It might be easier
I took my power in my hand
It’s all I have to bring to-day
It sifts from leaden sieves
It’s like the light
It sounded as if the streets were running
It’s such a little thing to weep
It struck me every day
It tossed and tossed
It was not death, for I stood up
It was too late for man
I’ve got an arrow here
I’ve seen a dying eye
I watched her face to see which way
I went to heaven
I went to thank her
I wish I knew that woman’s name
I wonder if the sepulchre
I worked for chaff, and earning wheat
I years had been from home
J
Just lost when I was saved!
Just so, Jesus raps—He does not weary—
L
Lay this laurel on the one
Let down the bars, O Death!
Let me not mar that perfect dream
Life, and Death, and Giants
Lightly stepped a yellow star
Like brooms of steel
Like Men and Women shadows walk
Like mighty footlights burned the red
Like some old-fashioned miracle
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
Look back on time with kindly eyes
Love is anterior to life
Love reckons by itself alone
Low at my problem bending
M
March is the month of expectation
Me! Come! My dazzled face
Mine by the right of the white election!
Mine enemy is growing old
Morning is the place for dew
“Morning” means “Milking” to the Farmer
Morns like these we parted
Much madness is divinest sense
Musicians wrestle everywhere
My cocoon tightens, colors tease
My country need not change her gown
My friend must be a bir
My life closed twice before its close
My
nosegays are for captives
My river runs to thee
My Wheel is in the dark
My worthiness is all my doubt
N
Nature is what we see
Nature rarer uses yellow
Nature, the gentlest mother
New feet within my garden go
No Autumn’s intercepting chill
No brigadier throughout the year
No matter where the Saints abide
No other can reduce
No rack can torture me
No romance sold unto
Not any higher stands the grave
Not any sunny tone
Not in this world to see his face
Not knowing when the dawn will come
Not one by Heaven defrauded stay
Not when we know
Not with a club the heart is broken
O
Of all the souls that stand create
Of all the sounds despatched abroad
Of bronze and blaze
Of Death the sharpest function
Of so divine a loss
Of this is Day composed
Of tribulation these are they
One blessing had I, than the rest
One day is there of the series
One dignity delays for all
One need not be a chamber to be haunted
One of the ones that Midas touched
One sister have I in our house
On my volcano grows the grass
On such a night, or such a night
On the bleakness of my lot
On this long storm the rainbow rose
On this wondrous sea
Our journey had advanced
BOOK: The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)
5.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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