Poems by Emily Dickinson

--On this wondrous sea--
On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar --
Where the storm is o'er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest --
The anchors fast --
Thither I pilot thee --
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!

--I have a Bird in spring--
I have a Bird in spring
Which for myself doth sing --
The spring decoys.
And as the summer nears --
And as the Rose appears,
Robin is gone.
Yet do I not repine
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown --
Learneth beyond the sea
Melody new for me
And will return.
Fast is a safer hand
Held in a truer Land
Are mine --
And though they now depart,
Tell I my doubting heart
They're thine.
In a serener Bright,
In a more golden light
I see
Each little doubt and fear,
Each little discord here
Removed.
Then will I not repine,
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.

--Before the ice is in the pools--
Before the ice is in the pools --
Before the skaters go,
Or any check at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow --
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!
What we touch the hems of
On a summer's day --
What is only walking
Just a bridge away --
That which sings so -- speaks so --
When there's no one here --
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?

--Taken from men this morning--
Taken from men -- this morning --
Carried by men today --
Met by the Gods with banners --
Who marshalled her away --
One little maid -- from playmates --
One little mind from school --
There must be guests in Eden --
All the rooms are full --
Far -- as the East from Even --
Dim -- as the border star --
Courtiers quaint, in Kingdoms
Our departed are.

--A prison gets to be a friend-- A Prison gets to be a friend -- Between its Ponderous face And Ours -- a Kinsmanship express -- And in its narrow Eyes -- We come to look with gratitude For the appointed Beam It deal us -- stated as our food -- And hungered for -- the same -- We learn to know the Planks -- That answer to Our feet -- So miserable a sound -- at first -- Nor ever now -- so sweet -- As plashing in the Pools -- When Memory was a Boy -- But a Demurer Circuit -- A Geometric Joy -- The Posture of the Key That interrupt the Day To Our Endeavor -- Not so real The Check of Liberty -- As this Phantasm Steel -- Whose features -- Day and Night -- Are present to us -- as Our Own -- And as escapeless -- quite -- The narrow Round -- the Stint -- The slow exchange of Hope -- For something passiver -- Content Too steep for lookinp up -- The Liberty we knew Avoided -- like a Dream -- Too wide for any Night but Heaven -- If That -- indeed -- redeem -- --Hope is a strange invention -- Hope is a strange invention A Patent of the Heart -- In unremitting action Yet never wearing out -- Of this electric Adjunct Not anything is known But its unique momentum Embellish all we own -- --Death is the supple Suitor-- Death is the supple Suitor That wins at last -- It is a stealthy Wooing Conducted first By pallid innuendoes And dim approach But brave at last with Bugles And a bisected Coach It bears away in triumph To Troth unknown And Kindred as responsive As Porcelain. --To lose thee -- sweeter than to gain-- To lose thee -- sweeter than to gain All other hearts I knew. 'Tis true the drought is destitute, But then, I had the dew! The Caspian has its realms of sand, Its other realm of sea. Without the sterile perquisite, No Caspian could be. --There comes an hour when begging stops-- There comes an hour when begging stops, When the long interceding lips Perceive their prayer is vain. "Thou shalt not" is a kinder sword Than from a disappointing God "Disciple, call again." --There comes an hour when begging stops-- There comes an hour when begging stops, When the long interceding lips Perceive their prayer is vain. "Thou shalt not" is a kinder sword Than from a disappointing God "Disciple, call again." --The earth has many keys-- The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature's fact. But witness for her land, And witness for her sea, The cricket is her utmost Of elegy to me.