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").
I Fear A Man Of Frugal Speech
543I fear a Man of frugal Speech—I fear a Silent Man—Haranguer—I can overtake—Or Babbler—entertain—But He who weigheth—While the Rest—Expend their..
© Emily Dickinson
I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be
944I learned—at least—what Home could be—How ignorant I had beenOf pretty ways of Covenant—How awkward at the HymnRound our new Fireside—but for..
© Emily Dickinson
I Watched The Moon Around The House
I watched the Moon around the HouseUntil upon a Pane --She stopped -- a Traveller's privilege -- for Rest --And there uponI gazed -- as at a stranger..
© Emily Dickinson
I Know Where Wells Grow—droughtless Wells
460I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells—Deep dug—for Summer days—Where Mosses go no more away—And Pebble—safely plays—It's made of Fathoms—and a..
© Emily Dickinson
The Brain, Within Its Groove
556The Brain, within its GrooveRuns evenly—and true—But let a Splinter swerve—'Twere easier for You—To put a Current back—When Floods have slit the..
© Emily Dickinson
I Can'T Tell You—but You Feel It
65I can't tell you—but you feel it—Nor can you tell me—Saints, with ravished slate and pencilSolve our April Day!Sweeter than a vanished frolicFrom a..
© Emily Dickinson
My Nosegays Are For Captives
My nosegays are for captives;Dim, long-expectant eyes,Fingers denied the plucking,Patient till paradise.To such, if they should whisperOf morning and..
© Emily Dickinson
The Color Of The Grave Is Green
411The Color of the Grave is Green—The Outer Grave—I mean—You would not know it from the Field—Except it own a Stone—To help the fond—to find it—Too..
© Emily Dickinson
The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun
106The Daisy follows soft the Sun—And when his golden walk is done—Sits shyly at his feet—He—waking—finds the flower there—Wherefore—Marauder—art..
© Emily Dickinson
The Robin's My Criterion For Tune
285The Robin's my Criterion for Tune—Because I grow—where Robins do—But, were I Cuckoo born—I'd swear by him—The ode familiar—rules the Noon—The..
© Emily Dickinson
Would You Like Summer? Taste Of Ours
691Would you like summer? Taste of ours.Spices? Buy here!Ill! We have berries, for the parching!Weary! Furloughs of down!Perplexed! Estates of violet..
© Emily Dickinson
There Came A Day At Summer's Full
322There came a Day at Summer's full,Entirely for me—I thought that such were for the Saints,Where Resurrections—be—The Sun, as common, went..
© Emily Dickinson
Love&Mdash;Thou Art High
453Love—thou art high—I cannot climb thee—But, were it Two—Who know but we—Taking turns—at the Chimborazo—Ducal—at last—stand up by thee—Love—thou..
© Emily Dickinson
I Know Some Lonely Houses Off The Road
289I know some lonely Houses off the RoadA Robber'd like the look of—Wooden barred,And Windows hanging low,Inviting to—A Portico,Where two could..
© Emily Dickinson
I Send Two Sunsets
308I send Two Sunsets—Day and I—in competition ran—I finished Two—and several Stars—While He—was making One—His own was ampler—but as IWas saying to..
© Emily Dickinson
Heaven Is So Far Of The Mind
370Heaven is so far of the MindThat were the Mind dissolved—The Site—of it—by ArchitectCould not again be proved—'Tis vast—as our Capacity—As fair—as..
© Emily Dickinson
Her Grace Is All She Has&Mdash
810Her Grace is all she has—And that, so least displays—One Art to recognize, must be,Another Art, to praise.
© Emily Dickinson
I Could Bring You Jewels—had I A Mind To
697I could bring You Jewels—had I a mind to—But You have enough—of those—I could bring You Odors from St. Domingo—Colors—from Vera Cruz—Berries of..
© Emily Dickinson
I Think The Longest Hour Of All
635I think the longest Hour of allIs when the Cars have come—And we are waiting for the Coach—It seems as though the TimeIndignant—that the Joy was..
© Emily Dickinson
While It Is Alive
491While it is aliveUntil Death touches itWhile it and I lap one AirDwell in one BloodUnder one SacramentShow me Division can split or pare—Love is..
© Emily Dickinson
The Sun—just Touched The Morning
232The Sun—just touched the Morning—The Morning—Happy thing—Supposed that He had come to dwell—And Life would all be Spring!She felt herself..
© Emily Dickinson
I Can Wade Grief
252I can wade Grief—Whole Pools of it—I'm used to that—But the least push of JoyBreaks up my feet—And I tip—drunken—Let no Pebble—smile—'Twas the New..
© Emily Dickinson
Me From Myself—to Banish
642Me from Myself—to banish—Had I Art—Impregnable my FortressUnto All Heart—But since Myself—assault Me—How have I peaceExcept by..
© Emily Dickinson
The Day Came Slow
The day came slow, till five o'clock,Then sprang before the hills,Like hindered rubies, or the light,A sudden musket spills.The purple could not keep..
© Emily Dickinson
I Know That He Exists
338I know that He exists.Somewhere—in Silence—He has hid his rare lifeFrom our gross eyes.'Tis an instant's play.'Tis a fond Ambush—Just to make..
© Emily Dickinson