Poems by Emily Dickinson
Where Ships of Purplegently toss
... 265 Where Ships of Purplegently toss ...
You'll know itas you know 'tis Noon
... 420 You'll know itas you know 'tis Noon ...
I payin Satin Cash
... You did not stateyour price ...
The bustle in the house (1078)
... The sweeping up the heartAnd putting love awayWe shall not want to use againUntil eternity ...
Exclusion
... I've known her from an ample nationChoose oneThen close the valves of her attentionLike stone ...
"Faith" is fine invention (185)
... "Faith" is a fine inventionFor gentlemen who see,But Microscopes are prudentIn an emergency! ...
"Hope" is the thing with feathers (254)
... heard it in the chillest landAnd on the strangest sea,Yet never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me ...
I never hear the word "escape" (77)
... I never hear the word "escape"Without a quicker blood,A sudden expectation,A flying attitude!I never heard of prisons broadBy soldiers battered down,But I tug childish at my bars,Only to fail again! ...
It was not death, for I stood up (510)
... most like chaos, stopless, cool,Without a chance, or spar,Or even a report of landTo justify despair ...
A little east of Jordan (59)
... A little east of Jordan,Evangelists record,A gymnast and an angelDid wrestle long and hard,Till morning touching mountain--And Jacob, waxing strong,The Angel begged permissionTo breakfast to return."Not so," said cunning Jacob!"I will not let thee goExcept thou bless me"--Stranger!The which acceded to,Light swung the silver fleeces"Peniel" hills beyond,And the bewildered gymnastFound he had worsted God! ...
Retrospect
... and so I thought how it would beWhen just this time, some perfect year, Themselves should come to me ...
The Snake
... I thought, a whip-lashUnbraiding in the sun,--When, stooping to secure it,It wrinkled, and was gone ...
Success
... As he, defeated, dying,On whose forbidden earThe distant strains of triumphBreak, agonized and clear ...
Wild nights!--wild nights! (249)
... Wild nights--wild nights!Were I with theeWild nights should beOur luxury!Futile the windsTo a heart in port--Done with the compass,Done with the chart!Rowing in Eden--Ah, the sea!Might I moor, tonight,In thee! ...
Dickinson Poems by Number
... The Sky— Ungained—it may be—by a Life's low Venture— ...
