Emily Dickinson

If Any Sink, Assure That This, Now Standing

The World—stands—solemner—to Me

If What We Could—were What We Would

I’Ll Send The Feather From My Hat!

My First Well Day—since Many Ill

The Bat Is Dun With Wrinkled Wings

Volcanoes be in Sicily

A Word dropped careless on a Page

To See Her Is A Picture

The Lamp Burns Sure—within

My Best Acquaintances Are Those

The Zeroes—taught Us—phosphorous

Are Friends Delight Or Pain

This Was In The White Of The Year

Not That We Did, Shall Be The Test

The Hollows Round His Eager Eyes

None Can Experience Sting

Like Mighty Foot Lights—burned The Red

The Tint I Cannot Take—is Best

The Months Have Ends—the Years—a Knot

The Spirit Is The Conscious Ear

Morns Like These—we Parted

Severer Service Of Myself

The Heart Has Narrow Banks

When Katie Walks, This Simple Pair Accompany Her Side

No Other Can Reduce

Shells From The Coast Mistaking

We Miss Her, Not Because We See

This—is the land—the Sunset washes—