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").
To See Her Is A Picture
To see her is a Picture —To hear her is a Tune —To know her an IntemperanceAs innocent as June —To know her not — Affliction —To own her for a..
© Emily Dickinson
Noon—is The Hinge Of Day
931Noon—is the Hinge of Day—Evening—the Tissue Door—Morning—the East compelling the sillTill all the World is ajar—
© Emily Dickinson
Tho' My Destiny Be Fustian
163Tho' my destiny be Fustian—Hers be damask fine—Tho' she wear a silver apron—I, a less divine—Still, my little Gypsy beingI would far prefer,Still..
© Emily Dickinson
There Is A Finished Feeling
856There is a finished feelingExperienced at Graves—A leisure of the Future—A Wilderness of Size.By Death's bold ExhibitionPreciser what we areAnd..
© Emily Dickinson
Pigmy Seraphs—gone Astray
138Pigmy seraphs—gone astray—Velvet people from Vevay—Balles from some lost summer day—Bees exclusive Coterie—Paris could not lay the foldBelted down..
© Emily Dickinson
Of All The Sounds Despatched Abroad
321Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,There's not a Charge to meLike that old measure in the Boughs—That phraseless Melody—The Wind does—working..
© Emily Dickinson
In Falling Timbers Buried
614In falling Timbers buried—There breathed a Man—Outside—the spades—were plying—The Lungs—within—Could He—know—they sought Him—Could They—know—He..
© Emily Dickinson
Once More, My Now Bewildered Dove
48Once more, my now bewildered DoveBestirs her puzzled wingsOnce more her mistress, on the deepHer troubled question flings—Thrice to the floating..
© Emily Dickinson
Tho' I Get Home How Late—how Late
207Tho' I get home how late—how late—So I get home - 'twill compensate—Better will be the EcstasyThat they have done expecting me—When..
© Emily Dickinson
Morning—means
"Morning"—means "Milking"—to the Farmer—Dawn—to the Teneriffe—Dice—to the Maid—Morning means just Risk—to the Lover—Just revelation—to the..
© Emily Dickinson
The Missing All—prevented Me
985The Missing All—prevented MeFrom missing minor Things.If nothing larger than a World'sDeparture from a Hinge—Or Sun's extinction, be..
© Emily Dickinson
She Died At Play
75She died at play,Gambolled awayHer lease of spotted hours,Then sank as gaily as a TurnUpon a Couch of flowers.Her ghost strolled softly o'er the..
© Emily Dickinson
The Gentian Weaves Her Fringes
18The Gentian weaves her fringes—The Maple's loom is red—My departing blossomsObviate parade.A brief, but patient illness—An hour to prepare,And one..
© Emily Dickinson
I Make His Crescent Fill Or Lack
909I make His Crescent fill or lack—His Nature is at FullOr Quarter—as I signify—His Tides—do I control—He holds superior in the SkyOr gropes, at my..
© Emily Dickinson
My Eye Is Fuller Than My Vase
202My Eye is fuller than my vase—Her Cargo—is of Dew—And still—my Heart—my Eye outweighs—East India—for you!
© Emily Dickinson
Where Ships Of Purple—gently Toss
265Where Ships of Purple—gently toss—On Seas of Daffodil—Fantastic Sailors—mingle—And then—the Wharf is still!
© Emily Dickinson
She Dwelleth In The Ground
671She dwelleth in the Ground—Where Daffodils—abide—Her Maker—Her Metropolis—The Universe—Her Maid—To fetch Her Grace—and Hue—And Fairness—and..
© Emily Dickinson
This Is A Blossom Of The Brain
945This is a Blossom of the Brain—A small—italic SeedLodged by Design or HappeningThe Spirit fructified—Shy as the Wind of his ChambersSwift as a..
© Emily Dickinson
How Well I Knew Her Not
837How well I knew Her notWhom not to know has beenA Bounty in prospective, nowNext Door to mine the Pain.
© Emily Dickinson
Perhaps I Asked Too Large
Perhaps I asked too large --I take -- no less than skies --For Earths, grow thick asBerries, in my native town --My Basked holds -- just ..
© Emily Dickinson
I Often Passed The Village
51I often passed the villageWhen going home from school—And wondered what they did there—And why it was so still—I did not know the year then—In..
© Emily Dickinson
The Future—never Spoke
672The Future—never spoke—Nor will He—like the Dumb—Reveal by sign—a syllableOf His Profound To Come—But when the News be ripe—Presents it—in the..
© Emily Dickinson
They Called Me To The Window, For
628They called me to the Window, for" 'Twas Sunset"—Some one said—I only saw a Sapphire Farm—And just a Single Herd—Of Opal Cattle—feeding farUpon so..
© Emily Dickinson
His Heart Was Darker Than The Starless Night
His Heart was darker than the starless nightFor that there is a mornBut in this black ReceptacleCan be no Bode of Dawn
© Emily Dickinson
He Who In Himself Believes
969He who in Himself believes—Fraud cannot presume—Faith is Constancy's Result—And assumes—from Home—Cannot perish, though it failEvery second..
© Emily Dickinson