Search Results for: poetry at work

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XX. From All the Jails the Boys and Girls SATURDAY AFTERNOON. From all the jails the boys and girls Ecstatically leap, — Beloved, only afternoon That prison doesn’t keep. They storm the earth and stun the air, A mob of solid bliss. Alas! that frowns could lie in wait […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIX. I Had a Guinea Golden I HAD A GUINEA GOLDEN. I had a guinea golden; I lost it in the sand, And though the sum was simple, And pounds were in the land, Still had it such a value Unto my frugal eye, That when I could not […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XVI. There Is No Frigate Like a Book A BOOK. There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of toll; How frugal is the chariot That bears a […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XV. While I Was Fearing It, It Came THE INEVITABLE. While I was fearing it, it came, But came with less of fear, Because that fearing it so long Had almost made it dear. There is a fitting a dismay, A fitting a despair. ‘Tis harder knowing it is […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIV. Aspiration ASPIRATION. We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the cubits warp For fear to be a […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIII.Parting PARTING. My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me, So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell. -Emily Dickinson Enjoy […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems VI. A Word Is Dead A WORD. A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day. -Emily Dickinson Enjoy Artistic Representations of “A Word Is Dead” by Emily Dickinson   Listen to this Reading of “A Word Is Dead” Listen to […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXXIV. What Inn Is This What inn is this Where for the night Peculiar traveller comes? Who is the landlord? Where the maids? Behold, what curious rooms! No ruddy fires on the hearth, No brimming tankards flow. Necromancer, landlord, Who are these below? -Emily Dickinson Enjoy Artistic Representations of […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXIV. On Such a Night GOING. On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair, So quiet, oh, how quiet! That nobody might know But that the little figure Rocked softer, to and fro? On such a […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXII. The Journey THE JOURNEY. Our journey had advanced; Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being’s road, Eternity by term. Our pace took sudden awe, Our feet reluctant led. Before were cities, but between, The forest of the dead. Retreat was out of hope, — […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XXI. If Anybody’s Friend Be Dead If anybody’s friend be dead, It ‘s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive, At such and such a time. Their costume, of a Sunday, Some manner of the hair, — A prank nobody knew but them, Lost, in the […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems X. The Only Ghost I Ever Saw The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin, — so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the bird, But rapid, like the roe; His fashions quaint, mosaic, Or, […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems IX. They Dropped Like Flakes THE BATTLE-FIELD. They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, — No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list […]