Category Emily Dickinson

“Secrets” is a daily word Yet does not exist – Muffled – it remits surmise – Murmured – it has ceased – Dungeoned in the Human Breast Doubtless secrets lie – But that Grate inviolate – Goes nor comes away…

Satisfaction – is the Agent Of Satiety – Want – a quiet Commissary For Infinity. To possess, is past the instant We achieve the Joy – Immortality contented Were Anomaly.

Sang from the Heart, Sire, Dipped my Beak in it, If the Tune drip too much Have a tint too Red Pardon the Cochineal – Suffer the Vermillion – Death is the Wealth Of the Poorest Bird. Bear with the…

Said Death to Passion “Give of thine an Acre unto me.” Said Passion, through contracting Breaths “A Thousand Times Thee Nay.” Bore Death from Passion All His East He – sovreign as the Sun Resituated in the West And the…

Safe Despair it is that raves – Agony is frugal – Puts itself severe away For it’s own perusal – Garrisoned no Soul can be In the Front of Trouble – Love is one – not aggregate – Nor is…

So large my Will The little that I may Embarrasses Like gentle infamy – Affront to Him For whom the Whole were small Affront to me Who know His Meed of all. Earth at the best Is but a scanty…

So I pull my Stockings off Wading in the Water For the Disobedience’ Sake Boy that lived for “Ought to” Went to Heaven perhaps at Death And perhaps he did’nt Moses was’nt fairly used – Ananias was’nt –

So give me back to Death – The Death I never feared Except that it deprived of thee – And now, by Life deprived, In my own Grave I breathe And estimate its size – Its size is all that…

So gay a Flower Bereaves the mind As if it were a Woe – Is Beauty an Affliction – then? Tradition ought to know –

Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun Seductive in the Air – That Tun is hollow – but the Tun – With Hundred Weights – to spare – Too ponderous to suspect the snare Espies that fickle chair And…