Poems by Emily Dickinson

Some things that fly there be, --
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:
Of these no elegy. ...

Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chori...

Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea, --
Past the houses, past the headlands,
I...

We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
...

As if some little Arctic flower,
Upon the polar hem,
Went wandering down the latitudes,
Unt...

Who never lost, are unprepared
A coronet to find;
Who never thirsted, flagons
And cooling t...

How many times these low feet staggered,
Only the soldered mouth can tell;
Try! Can you stir ...

'T WAS later when the summer went
Than when the cricket came,
And yet we knew that gentle cloc...

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar
Until the morning sun,
When one turned smiling to the land.
...

It makes no difference abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
A...

'T was such a little, little boat
That toddled down the bay!
'T was such a gallant, gallant s...

We outgrow love like other things
And put it in the drawer,
Till it an antique fashion shows
...

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too...

Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the b...

She rose to his requirement, dropped
The playthings of her life
To take the honorable work
Of...