Poetry

November By  Emily Dickinson Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze. A few incisi…

Indian Summer By  Emily Dickinson These are the days when birds come back, A very few, a bird or two, To take a backward look. These are the days whe…

Autumn By  Emily Dickinson The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town…

Saturday Afternoon By  Emily Dickinson From all the jails the boys and girls     Ecstatically leap, —  Beloved, only afternoon     That prison doesn&…

April By  Emily Dickinson An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the la…

Satisfied By  Emily Dickinson One blessing had I, than the rest     So larger to my eyes That I stopped gauging, satisfied,     For this enchanted si…

A Service of Song By  Emily Dickinson Some keep the Sabbath going to church; I keep it staying at home, With a bobolink for a chorister, And an orcha…

Death and Life By  Emily Dickinson Apparently with no surprise To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play In accidental power. The blond a…

Bequest By  Emily Dickinson You left me, sweet, two legacies, — A legacy of love A Heavenly Father would content, Had He the offer of; You left me bo…

The Storm By  Emily Dickinson There came a wind like a bugle; It quivered through the grass, And a green chill upon the heat So ominous did pass We b…

Mine By  Emily Dickinson Mine by the right of the white election! Mine by the royal seal! Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison Bars cannot conceal!…

Summer Shower By  Emily Dickinson A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A f…

By the Sea By  Emily Dickinson I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me, And frigates i…

My Rose By  Emily Dickinson Pigmy seraphs gone astray, Velvet people from Vevay, Belles from some lost summer day, Bees' exclusive coterie. Paris…

A Book By  Emily Dickinson He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust…

Farewell By  Emily Dickinson Tie the strings to my life, my Lord,     Then I am ready to go! Just a look at the horses —      Rapid! That will do! Pu…