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< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XV. I’ve Seen a Dying Eye I’ve seen a dying eye Run round and round a room In search of something, as it seemed, Then cloudier become; And then, obscure with fog, And then be soldered down, Without disclosing what it be, ‘T were blessed to have seen. -Emily […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIV. I Went to Thank Her I went to thank her, But she slept; Her bed a funnelled stone, With nosegays at the head and foot, That travellers had thrown, Who went to thank her; But she slept. ‘T was short to cross the sea To look upon her […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems I Like a Look of Agony REAL. I like a look of agony, Because I know it ‘s true; Men do not sham convulsion, Nor simulate a throe. The eyes glaze once, and that is death. Impossible to feign The beads upon the forehead By homely anguish strung. -Emily […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems How Many Times “TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS.” How many times these low feet staggered, Only the soldered mouth can tell; Try! can you stir the awful rivet? Try! can you lift the hasps of steel? Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often, Lift, if you can, the listless hair; […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems X. I Died for Beauty I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? “For beauty,” I replied. “And I for truth, — the two are one; We brethren […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems IX. A Train Went Through A train went through a burial gate, A bird broke forth and sang, And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat Till all the churchyard rang; And then adjusted his little notes, And bowed and sang again. Doubtless, he thought it meet of him […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems VIII. Look Back on Time Look back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best; How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature’s west! -Emily Dickinson Enjoy Artistic Representations of “Look Back on Time ” by Emily Dickinson   Listen to these Readings of “Look Back on Time” Listen […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems VII. Setting Sail SETTING SAIL. Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, — Past the houses, past the headlands, Into deep eternity! Bred as we, among the mountains, Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land? -Emily Dickinson Enjoy Artistic […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems VI. My Cocoon Tightens; Colors Tease FROM THE CHRYSALIS. My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be The aptitude to fly, Meadows of majesty concedes And easy sweeps of sky. So […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems IV. Safe in their Alabaster Chambers Safe in their alabaster chambers, Untouched by morning and untouched by noon, Sleep the meek members of the resurrection, Rafter of satin, and roof of stone. Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine; Babbles the bee in a stolid ear; Pipe […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXXI. There’s A Certain Slant of Light There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings are. None may teach it anything, ‘T is the […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXIX. Beclouded BECLOUDED. The sky is low, the clouds are mean, A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day How some one treated him; Nature, like us, is sometimes caught Without her diadem. -Emily […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXVIII. Autumn AUTUMN. The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry’s cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I’ll put a trinket on. -Emily Dickinson […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXVII. Indian Summer INDIAN SUMMER. These are the days when birds come back, A very few, a bird or two, To take a backward look. These are the days when skies put on The old, old sophistries of June, — A blue and gold mistake. Oh, fraud that cannot […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXV. Apparently With No Surprise DEATH AND LIFE. Apparently with no surprise To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on, The sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another day For an approving God. -Emily Dickinson Enjoy Artistic Representations […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIV. Purple Clover XIV. PURPLE CLOVER. There is a flower that bees prefer, And butterflies desire; To gain the purple democrat The humming-birds aspire. And whatsoever insect pass, A honey bears away Proportioned to his several dearth And her capacity. Her face is rounder than the moon, And ruddier […]