Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Removed From Accident Of Loss
424Removed from Accident of LossBy Accident of GainBefalling not my simple Days—Myself had just to earn—Of Riches—as unconsciousAs is the Brown..
© Emily Dickinson
'Tis Customary As We Part
440'Tis customary as we partA trinket—to confer—It helps to stimulate the faithWhen Lovers be afar—'Tis various—as the various..
© Emily Dickinson
avior! I'Ve No One Else To Tell
217Savior! I've no one else to tell—And so I trouble thee.I am the one forgot thee so—Dost thou remember me?Nor, for myself, I came so far—That were..
© Emily Dickinson
Ribbons Of The Year
873Ribbons of the Year—Multitude Brocade—Worn to Nature's Party onceThen, as flung asideAs a faded BeadOr a Wrinkled PearlWho shall charge the..
© Emily Dickinson
Where Bells No More Affright The Morn
112Where bells no more affright the morn—Where scrabble never comes—Where very nimble GentlemenAre forced to keep their rooms—Where tired Children..
© Emily Dickinson
The Heaven Vests For Each
694The Heaven vests for EachIn that small DeityIt craved the grace to worshipSome bashful Summer's Day—Half shrinking from the GloryIt importuned to..
© Emily Dickinson
The Sweetest Heresy Received
387The sweetest Heresy receivedThat Man and Woman know—Each Other's Convert—Though the Faith accommodate but Two—The Churches are so frequent—The..
© Emily Dickinson
This Merit Hath The Worst
979This Merit hath the worst—It cannot be again—When Fate hath taunted lastAnd thrown Her furthest Stone—The Maimed may pause, and breathe,And glance..
© Emily Dickinson
The Court Is Far Away
235The Court is far away—No Umpire—have I—My Sovereign is offended—To gain his grace—I'd die!I'll seek his royal feet—I'll say—Remember—King—Thou..
© Emily Dickinson
Like Her The Saints Retire
60Like her the Saints retire,In their Chapeaux of fire,Martial as she!Like her the Evenings stealPurple and CochinealAfter the..
© Emily Dickinson
What Care The Dead, For Chanticleer
592What care the Dead, for Chanticleer—What care the Dead for Day?'Tis late your Sunrise vex their face—And Purple Ribaldry—of MorningPour as blank..
© Emily Dickinson
While Asters&Mdash;
331While Asters—On the Hill—Their Everlasting fashions—set—And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
© Emily Dickinson
What Did They Do Since I Saw Them?
900What did They do since I saw Them?Were They industrious?So many questions to put ThemHave I the eagernessThat could I snatch Their FacesThat could..
© Emily Dickinson
'Tis True—they Shut Me In The Cold
538'Tis true—They shut me in the Cold—But then—Themselves were warmAnd could not know the feeling 'twas—Forget it—Lord—of Them—Let not my Witness..
© Emily Dickinson
e Met As Sparks—diverging Flints
958We met as Sparks—Diverging FlintsSent various—scattered ways—We parted as the Central FlintWere cloven with an Adze—Subsisting on the Light We..
© Emily Dickinson
Mute Thy Coronation
151Mute thy Coronation—Meek my Vive le roi,Fold a tiny courtierIn thine Ermine, Sir,There to rest reveringTill the pageant by,I can murmur..
© Emily Dickinson
They Put Us Far Apart
474They put Us far apart—As separate as SeaAnd Her unsown Peninsula—We signified "These see"—They took away our Eyes—They thwarted Us with Guns—"I..
© Emily Dickinson
This Bauble Was Preferred Of Bees
805This Bauble was preferred of Bees—By Butterflies admiredAt Heavenly—Hopeless Distances—Was justified of Bird—Did Noon—enamel—in HerselfWas Summer..
© Emily Dickinson
They Leave Us With The Infinite
350They leave us with the Infinite.But He—is not a man—His fingers are the size of fists—His fists, the size of men—And whom he foundeth, with his..
© Emily Dickinson
Publication
Publication -- is the AuctionOf the Mind of Man --Poverty -- be justifyingFor so foul a thingPossibly -- but We -- would ratherFrom Our Garret..
© Emily Dickinson
Of Tolling Bell I Ask The Cause?
947Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?"A Soul has gone to Heaven"I'm answered in a lonesome tone—Is Heaven then a Prison?That Bells should ring till all..
© Emily Dickinson
No Crowd That Has Occurred
515No Crowd that has occurredExhibit—I supposeThat General AttendanceThat Resurrection—does—Circumference be full—The long restricted GraveAssert her..
© Emily Dickinson
She's Happy, With A New Content
535She's happy, with a new Content—That feels to her—like Sacrament—She's busy—with an altered Care—As just apprenticed to the Air—She's tearful—if..
© Emily Dickinson
Of Consciousness, Her Awful Mate
894Of Consciousness, her awful MateThe Soul cannot be rid—As easy the secreting herBehind the Eyes of God.The deepest hid is sighted firstAnd scant..
© Emily Dickinson