Home poems

/ page 460 of 465 /

Order by :

Although I put away his life

© Emily Dickinson

Although I put away his life --
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand

Alone, I cannot be

© Emily Dickinson

Alone, I cannot be --
For Hosts -- do visit me --
Recordless Company --
Who baffle Key --

Alone and in a Circumstance

© Emily Dickinson

Alone and in a Circumstance
Reluctant to be told
A spider on my reticence
Assiduously crawled

All forgot for recollecting

© Emily Dickinson

All forgot for recollecting
Just a paltry One --
All forsook, for just a Stranger's
New Accompanying --

Again -- his voice is at the door --

© Emily Dickinson

Again -- his voice is at the door --
I feel the old Degree --
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one -- as me --

Absent Place -- an April Day --

© Emily Dickinson

Absent Place -- an April Day --
Daffodils a-blow
Homesick curiosity
To the Souls that snow --

A Murmur in the Trees -- to note

© Emily Dickinson

A Murmur in the Trees -- to note --
Not loud enough -- for Wind --
A Star -- not far enough to seek --
Nor near enough -- to find --

A Dimple in the Tomb

© Emily Dickinson

A Dimple in the Tomb
Makes that ferocious Room
A Home --

A Deed knocks first at Thought

© Emily Dickinson

A Deed knocks first at Thought
And then -- it knocks at Will --
That is the manufacturing spot
And Will at Home and well

'Twas later when the summer went

© Emily Dickinson

'Twas later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came --
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home --

Volcanoes be in Sicily

© Emily Dickinson

Volcanoes be in Sicily
And South America
I judge from my Geography --
Volcanos nearer here

The spry Arms of the Wind

© Emily Dickinson

The spry Arms of the Wind
If I could crawl between
I have an errand imminent
To an adjoining Zone --

The nearest Dream recedes -- unrealized

© Emily Dickinson

The nearest Dream recedes -- unrealized --
The Heaven we chase,
Like the June Bee -- before the School Boy,
Invites the Race --

The Flower must not blame the Bee

© Emily Dickinson

The Flower must not blame the Bee --
That seeketh his felicity
Too often at her door --

The fairest Home I ever knew

The fairest Home I ever knew
Was founded in an Hour
By Parties also that I knew
A spider and a Flower --
A manse of mechlin and of Floes --

That is solemn we have ended

That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday

Let me not mar that perfect Dream

Let me not mar that perfect Dream
By an Auroral stain
But so adjust my daily Night
That it will come again.

In Winter in my Room

The very string with which
I tied him -- too
When he was mean and new
That string was there --

If ever the lid gets off my head

If ever the lid gets off my head
And lets the brain away
The fellow will go where he belonged --
Without a hint from me,

I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --

I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences --
It's time o' year for Hay.