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").
She Sped As Petals Of A Rose
991She sped as Petals of a RoseOffended by the Wind—A frail Aristocrat of TimeIndemnity to find—Leaving on nature—a DefaultAs Cricket or as Bee—But..
© Emily Dickinson
Dying At My Music
Dying at my music!Bubble! Bubble!Hold me till the Octave's run!Quick! Burst the Windows!Ritardando!Phials left, and the Sun!
© Emily Dickinson
The Mountain Sat Upon The Plain
975The Mountain sat upon the PlainIn his tremendous Chair—His observation omnifold,His inquest, everywhere—The Seasons played around his kneesLike..
© Emily Dickinson
Of Course—i Prayed
376Of Course—I prayed—And did God Care?He cared as much as on the AirA Bird—had stamped her foot—And cried "Give Me"—My Reason—Life—I had not had—but..
© Emily Dickinson
One Dignity Delays For All
98One dignity delays for all—One mitred Afternoon—None can avoid this purple—None evade this Crown!Coach, it insures, and footmen—Chamber, and state..
© Emily Dickinson
The Color Of A Queen, Is This
776The Color of a Queen, is this—The Color of a SunAt setting—this and Amber—Beryl—and this, at Noon—And when at night—Auroran widthsFling suddenly..
© Emily Dickinson
To Hear An Oriole Sing
526To hear an Oriole singMay be a common thing—Or only a divine.It is not of the BirdWho sings the same, unheard,As unto Crowd—The Fashion of the..
© Emily Dickinson
The Sunset Stopped On Cottages
950The Sunset stopped on CottagesWhere Sunset hence must beFor treason not of His, but Life's,Gone Westerly, Today—The Sunset stopped on..
© Emily Dickinson
New Feet Within My Garden Go
99New feet within my garden go—New fingers stir the sod—A Troubadour upon the ElmBetrays the solitude.New children play upon the green—New Weary..
© Emily Dickinson
The Morning After Woe
364The Morning after Woe—'Tis frequently the Way—Surpasses all that rose before—For utter Jubilee—As Nature did not care—And piled her Blossoms..
© Emily Dickinson
I Keep My Pledge
46I keep my pledge.I was not called—Death did not notice me.I bring my Rose.I plight again,By every sainted Bee—By Daisy called from hillside—by..
© Emily Dickinson
Robbed By Death—but That Was Easy
971Robbed by Death—but that was easy—To the failing EyeI could hold the latest Glowing—Robbed by LibertyFor Her Jugular Defences—This, too, I..
© Emily Dickinson
What is—"Paradise"
215What is—"Paradise"—Who live there—Are they "Farmers"—Do they "hoe"—Do they know that this is "Amherst"—And that I—am coming—too—Do they wear "new..
© Emily Dickinson
Myself Was Formed—a Carpenter
488Myself was formed—a Carpenter—An unpretending timeMy Plane—and I, together wroughtBefore a Builder came—To measure our attainments—Had we the Art..
© Emily Dickinson
I Made Slow Riches But My Gain
843I made slow Riches but my GainWas steady as the SunAnd every Night, it numbered moreThan the preceding OneAll Days, I did not earn the sameBut my..
© Emily Dickinson
I Lived On Dread
770I lived on Dread—To Those who knowThe Stimulus there isIn Danger—Other impetusIs numb—and Vitalless—As 'twere a Spur—upon the Soul—A Fear will..
© Emily Dickinson
The Mountains—grow Unnoticed
757The Mountains—grow unnoticed—Their Purple figures riseWithout attempt—Exhaustion—Assistance—or Applause—In Their Eternal FacesThe Sun—with just..
© Emily Dickinson
They Dropped Like Flakes
They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,Like petals from a rose,When suddenly across the luneA wind with fingers goes.They perished in the..
© Emily Dickinson
'Tis So Appalling&Mdash;It Exhilarates
281'Tis so appalling—it exhilarates—So over Horror, it half Captivates—The Soul stares after it, secure—A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more—To scan a..
© Emily Dickinson
Precious To Me—she Still Shall Be
727Precious to Me—She still shall be—Though She forget the name I bear—The fashion of the Gown I wear—The very Color of My Hair—So like the..
© Emily Dickinson
This Is The Land The Sunset Washes
This is the land the sunset washes,These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;Where it rose, or whither it rushes,These are the western mystery!Night..
© Emily Dickinson
It Would Have Starved A Gnat
612It would have starved a Gnat—To live so small as I—And yet I was a living Child—With Food's necessityUpon me—like a Claw—I could no more..
© Emily Dickinson
The Soul Unto Itself
The Soul unto itselfIs an imperial friend --Or the most agonizing Spy --An Enemy -- could send --Secure against its own --No treason it can fear..
© Emily Dickinson
The Truth—is Stirless
780The Truth—is stirless—Other force—may be presumed to move—This—then—is best for confidence—When oldest Cedars swerve—And Oaks untwist their..
© Emily Dickinson
When Night Is Almost Done
347When Night is almost done—And Sunrise grows so nearThat we can touch the Spaces—It's time to smooth the Hair—And get the Dimples ready—And wonder..
© Emily Dickinson