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Emily Dickinson
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Page 4
Emily Dickinson
Not Probable—the Barest Chance
Prayer Is The Little Implement
Yesterday Is History
The Butterfly Upon The Sky
Not
The One Who Could Repeat The Summer Day
He Gave Away His Life
Patience—has A Quiet Outer
Most She Touched Me By Her Muteness
Of Nearness To Her Sundered Things
More Life—went Out—when He Went
Fate Slew Him, But He Did Not Drop
The Court Is Far Away
Ribbons Of The Year
My Wheel Is In The Dark
Just Lost, When I Was Saved!
Like Flowers, That Heard The News Of Dews
Smiling Back From Coronation
The Robin For The Crumb
She Lay As If At Play
The Savior Must Have Been A Docile Gentleman (1487)
Let Us Play Yesterday
His Heart Was Darker Than The Starless Night
They Called Me To The Window, For
I Often Passed The Village
Perhaps I Asked Too Large
Tho’ My Destiny Be Fustian
There Is A Finished Feeling
The Province Of The Saved
Least Bee That Brew
Through Lane It Lay—through Bramble
The Power To Be True To You
When The Astronomer Stops Seeking
Gratitude—is Not The Mention
I Have A King, Who Does Not Speak
I’ll Clutch—and Clutch
The Birds Reported From The South
To Interrupt His Yellow Plan
My Period Had Come For Prayer
The Black Berry—wears A Thorn In His Side
Purple—is Fashionable Twice
Me, Change! Me, Alter!
Tho’ I Get Home How Late—how Late
Once More, My Now Bewildered Dove
In Falling Timbers Buried
The Missing All—prevented Me
Where Ships Of Purple—gently Toss
She Dwelleth In The Ground
Morning—means
Of All The Sounds Despatched Abroad
Pigmy Seraphs—gone Astray
She Died At Play
I Make His Crescent Fill Or Lack
Have Any Like Myself
This Is A Blossom Of The Brain
The Doomed—regard The Sunrise
Not In This World To See His Face
Put Up My Lute!
The Whole Of It Came Not At Once
The Lady Feeds Her Little Bird
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