The soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has…
Poem
The Snow. By Emily Dickinson
It sifts from leaden sieves, It powders all the wood, It fills with alabaster wool The wrinkles of the road. It makes an even face Of mountain and of…
The Snake. By Emily Dickinson
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him, — did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb, A…
The Sleeping Flowers. By Emily Dickinson
“Whose are the little beds,” I asked, “Which in the valleys lie?” Some shook their heads, and others smiled, And no one made reply. “Perhaps they did not…
The Show. By Emily Dickinson
The show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be. Fair play — Both went to see.
The Shelter. By Emily Dickinson
The body grows outside, — The more convenient way, — That if the spirit like to hide, Its temple stands alway Ajar, secure, inviting; It never did betray The soul…
The Secret. By Emily Dickinson
Some things that fly there be, — Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be, — Grief, hills, eternity: Nor this behooveth me….
The Sea. By Emily Dickinson
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
The Sea Of Sunset. By Emily Dickinson
This is the land the sunset washes, These are the banks of the Yellow Sea; Where it rose, or whither it rushes, These are the western mystery! Night…
The Robin. By Emily Dickinson
The robin is the one That interrupts the morn With hurried, few, express reports When March is scarcely on. The robin is the one That overflows the noon With her…