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 Had The Glory—that Will Do
349I had the Glory—that will do—An Honor, Thought can turn her toWhen lesser Fames invite—With one long "Nay"—Bliss' early..
© Emily Dickinson
Sexton! My Master's Sleeping Here
96Sexton! My Master's sleeping here.Pray lead me to his bed!I came to build the Bird's nest,And sow the Early seed—That when the snow creeps..
© Emily Dickinson
None Can Experience Sting
771None can experience stingWho Bounty—have not known—The fact of Famine—could not beExcept for Fact of Corn—Want—is a meagre ArtAcquired by..
© Emily Dickinson
Our Little Kinsmen—after Rain
885Our little Kinsmen—after RainIn plenty may be seen,A Pink and Pulpy multitudeThe tepid Ground upon.A needless life, it seemed to meUntil a little..
© Emily Dickinson
Only A Shrine, But Mine
918Only a Shrine, but Mine—I made the Taper shine—Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may come,Regard a Nun—Thou knowest every Woe—Needless to tell..
© Emily Dickinson
Midsummer, Was It, When They Died
962Midsummer, was it, when They died—A full, and perfect time—The Summer closed upon itselfIn Consummated Bloom—The Corn, her furthest kernel..
© Emily Dickinson
Of All The Souls That Stand Create
Of all the souls that stand createI have elected one.When sense from spirit files away,And subterfuge is done;When that which is and that which..
© Emily Dickinson
The Bird Must Sing To Earn The Crumb
880The Bird must sing to earn the CrumbWhat merit have the TuneNo Breakfast if it guarantyThe Rose content may bloomTo gain renown of Lady's..
© Emily Dickinson
Publication—is The Auction
Publication—is the AuctionOf the Mind of Man—Poverty—be justifyingFor so foul a thingPossibly—but We—would ratherFrom Our Garret goWhite—Unto the..
© Emily Dickinson
Whose Cheek Is This?
82Whose cheek is this?What rosy faceHas lost a blush today?I found her—"pleiad"—in the woodsAnd bore her safe away.Robins, in the traditionDid cover..
© Emily Dickinson
Must Be A Woe
571Must be a Woe—A loss or so—To bend the eyeBest Beauty's way—But—once aslantIt notes DelightAs difficultAs StalactiteA Common BlissWere had for..
© Emily Dickinson
Our Share Of Night To Bear
113Our share of night to bear—Our share of morning—Our blank in bliss to fillOur blank in scorning—Here a star, and there a star,Some lose their..
© Emily Dickinson
The Face I Carry With Me—last
336The face I carry with me—last—When I go out of Time—To take my Rank—by—in the West—That face—will just be thine—I'll hand it to the..
© Emily Dickinson
We Pray&Mdash;To Heaven
489We pray—to Heaven—We prate—of Heaven—Relate—when Neighbors die—At what o'clock to heaven—they fled—Who saw them—Wherefore fly?Is Heaven a Place—a..
© Emily Dickinson
Their Height In Heaven Comforts Not
696Their Height in Heaven comforts not—Their Glory—nought to me—'Twas best imperfect—as it was—I'm finite—I can't see—The House of Supposition—The..
© Emily Dickinson
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