If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done; If birds should build as early, And bees as bustling go, — One might depart at option From enterprise below! ‘T is sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with daisies lie, That commerce will continue, And trades as briskly…
“If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one…
“I Taste A Liquor Never Brewed,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee…
“I Know A Place Where Summer Strives” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
I know a place where summer strives With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies back, Recording briefly, “Lost.” But when the south wind stirs…
“I Have No Life But This,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come, Nor action new, Except through this…
“I Had No Time To Hate, Because” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love;…
“I Asked No Other Thing,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
I asked no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled. Brazil? He twirled a button, Without a glance my way: “But, madam,…
“Have You Got A Brook In Your Little Heart,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Have you got a brook in your little heart, Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drink, And shadows tremble so? And nobody knows, so…
“Glee! The Great Storm Is Over!” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Glee! The great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation! Toll, for the bonnie souls,…
“Delight Becomes Pictorial” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain, — More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountain at a given distance In amber lies; Approached, the amber flits a little,…