Emily Dickinson

The Work Of Her That Went

It sounded as if the Streets were running

As from the earth the light Balloon

Growth of Man – like Growth of Nature

Judgment is justest

Revolution is the Pod

The Devil – had he fidelity

Rearrange a ‘Wife’s’ affection!

It stole along so stealthy

Image of Light, Adieu

Best Witchcraft is Geometry

A Spider sewed at Night

Tomorrow – Whose Location

Some Days retired from the rest

Sometimes with the Heart

An Antiquated Tree

If Nature Smiles – The Mother Must

The Sea Said ‘Come’ To The Brook

Proud Of My Broken Heart

Lightly Stepped A Yellow Star

Declaiming Waters None May Dread

A little Madness in the Spring

There comes a warning like a spy

The Wind Took Up The Northern Things

One Day Is There Of The Series

Not with a club, the Heart is broken

He ate and drank the precious Words

Drowning is not so pitiful

Longing is like the Seed

His voice decrepit was with Joy

High From The Earth I Heard A Bird

The grave my little cottage is

The Hills in Purple syllables

I Bet With Every Wind That Blew

Lives He In Any Other World

Escape is such a thankful Word

To Mend Each Tattered Faith

In Snow Thou Comest

We see — Comparatively —

I Should Have Been Too Glad, I See

Those Who Have Been In The Grave The Longest

Jesus! Thy Crucifix

The Martyr Poets—did Not Tell

No Matter—now—sweet

There Is An Arid Pleasure

The Hallowing Of Pain

The White Heat

The Show Is Not The Show

The Thought Beneath So Slight A Film

I’ve None To Tell Me To But Thee

Of Tribulation, These Are They

A chilly Peace infests the Grass

Of Consciousness, Her Awful Mate

No Crowd That Has Occurred

Who Giants Know, With Lesser Men

The Guest Is Gold And Crimson

This Dust, And Its Feature

She’s Happy, With A New Content

Nature—sometimes Sears A Sapling

She Staked Her Feathers—gained An Arc