Emily Dickinson

It might be easier To fail with land in sight, Than gain my blue peninsula To perish of delight.

It makes no difference abroad, The seasons fit the same, The mornings blossom into noons, And split their pods of flame.Wild-flowers kindle in the woods, The brooks brag all the day; No blackbird bates his jargoning

How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!

Immortal is an ample word When what we need is by, But when it leaves us for a time, 'Tis a necessity.Of heaven above the firmest proof We fundamental know, Except for its marauding hand,

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again,

I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – Too?

I took one Draught of Life – I'll tell you what I paid – Precisely an existence – The market price, they said.

I took my power in my hand And went against the world; 'Twas not so much as David had, But I was twice as bold.I aimed my pebble, but myself Was all the one that fell. Was it Goliath was too large,

I taste a liquor never brewed - From Tankards scooped in Pearl - Not all the Frankfort Berries Yield such an Alcohol!Inebriate of air - am I - And Debauchee of Dew - Reeling - thro' endless summer days -

I reason, earth is short, And anguish absolute. And many hurt; But what of that?I reason, we could die: The best vitality Cannot excel decay;

I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in heaven;

I never hear the word "escape" Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.I never hear of prisons broad By soldiers battered down, But I tug childish at my bars,—

There interposed a Fly –With Blue – uncertain – stumbling Buzz – Between the light – and me – And then the Windows failed – and then I could not see to see –

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died – The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air – Between the Heaves of Storm –

I died for Beauty – but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb, When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room – He questioned softly "Why I failed"? "For Beauty," I replied. "And I – for Truth, – Themself are One –

How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on;

"Hope" is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all – And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird

Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you're lagging,

Fate slew him, but he did not drop; She felled—he did not fall— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes— He neutralized them all.She stung him, sapped his firm advance, But, when her worst was done, And he, unmoved, regarded her,

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate, Whose table once a Guest, but not The second time, is set. Whose crumbs the crows inspect, And with ironic caw

"Faith" is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see – But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.

What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot - The opening of a Door -

Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever To that abhorred abodeWhere hope and he part company,—

Dreams – are well – but Waking's better, If One wake at Morn – If One wake at Midnight – better – Dreaming – of the Dawn –