Poems begining by I
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It might be lonelier
© Emily Dickinson
It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness --
I'm so accustomed to my Fate --
Perhaps the Other -- Peace --
It is easy to work when the soul is at play
© Emily Dickinson
It is easy to work when the soul is at play --
But when the soul is in pain --
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult -- then --
It feels a shame to be Alive
© Emily Dickinson
It feels a shame to be Alive --
When Men so brave -- are dead --
One envies the Distinguished Dust --
Permitted -- such a Head --
It don't sound so terrible -- quite -- as it did
© Emily Dickinson
It don't sound so terrible -- quite -- as it did --
I run it over -- "Dead", Brain, "Dead."
Put it in Latin -- left of my school --
Seems it don't shriek so -- under rule.
It did not surprise me
© Emily Dickinson
It did not surprise me --
So I said -- or thought --
She will stir her pinions
And the nest forgot,
Inconceivably solemn!
© Emily Dickinson
Inconceivably solemn!
Things go gay
Pierce -- by the very Press
Of Imagery --
In Winter in my Room
© Emily Dickinson
The very string with which
I tied him -- too
When he was mean and new
That string was there --
In snow thou comest --
© Emily Dickinson
In snow thou comest --
Thou shalt go with the resuming ground,
The sweet derision of the crow,
And Glee's advancing sound.
In rags mysterious as these
© Emily Dickinson
In rags mysterious as these
The shining Courtiers go --
Veiling the purple, and the plumes --
Veiling the ermine so.
In Ebon Box, when years have flown
© Emily Dickinson
In Ebon Box, when years have flown
To reverently peer,
Wiping away the velvet dust
Summers have sprinkled there!
If pain for peace prepares
© Emily Dickinson
If pain for peace prepares
Lo, what "Augustan" years
Our feet await!
If Nature smiles -- the Mother must
© Emily Dickinson
If Nature smiles -- the Mother must
I'm sure, at many a whim
Of Her eccentric Family --
Is She so much to blame?
If I should cease to bring a Rose
© Emily Dickinson
If I should cease to bring a Rose
Upon a festal day,
'Twill be because beyond the Rose
I have been called away --
If I could bribe them by a Rose
© Emily Dickinson
If I could bribe them by a Rose
I'd bring them every flower that grows
From Amherst to Cashmere!
I would not stop for night, or storm --
Or frost, or death, or anyone --
My business were so dear!
If ever the lid gets off my head
© Emily Dickinson
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,
If all the griefs I am to have
© Emily Dickinson
If all the griefs I am to have
Would only come today,
I am so happy I believe
They'd laugh and run away.
Ideals are the Fairly Oil
© Emily Dickinson
Ideals are the Fairly Oil
With which we help the Wheel
But when the Vital Axle turns
The Eye rejects the Oil.
I've known a Heaven, like a Tent
© Emily Dickinson
I've known a Heaven, like a Tent --
To wrap its shining Yards --
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear --
Without the sound of Boards
I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --
© Emily Dickinson
I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences --
It's time o' year for Hay.
