Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself, Its…
Poem
The Mushroom. By Emily Dickinson
The mushroom is the elf of plants, At evening it is not; At morning in a truffled hut It stops upon a spot As if it tarried always; And…
The Mountain. By Emily Dickinson
The mountain sat upon the plain In his eternal chair, His observation omnifold, His inquest everywhere. The seasons prayed around his knees, Like children round a sire: Grandfather of the…
The Moon. By Emily Dickinson
The moon was but a chin of gold A night or two ago, And now she turns her perfect face Upon the world below. Her forehead is of…
The Moon Is Distant From The Sea, By Emily Dickinson
The moon is distant from the sea, And yet with amber hands She leads him, docile as a boy, Along appointed sands. He never misses a degree; Obedient to…
The Monument. By Emily Dickinson
She laid her docile crescent down, And this mechanic stone Still states, to dates that have forgot, The news that she is gone. So constant to its stolid…
The Master. By Emily Dickinson
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow, By…
The Martyrs. By Emily Dickinson
Through the straight pass of suffering The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God. A stately, shriven company; Convulsion playing round, Harmless as streaks of meteor Upon…
The Lovers. By Emily Dickinson
The rose did caper on her cheek, Her bodice rose and fell, Her pretty speech, like drunken men, Did stagger pitiful. Her fingers fumbled at her work, — Her…
The Lost Thought. By Emily Dickinson
I felt a clearing in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The…