Category Emily Dickinson

We lose—because we win— Gamblers—recollecting which Toss their dice again!

We like March, his shoes are purple, He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his coming, And begets her spot. Stands the sun so close and mighty…

We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed— But in Each Other’s eyes An Ignorance beheld— Diviner than the Childhood’s— And each to each, a Child— Attempted to expound What Neither—understood— Alas,…

We grow accustomed to the Dark — When light is put away — As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Goodbye — A Moment — We uncertain step For newness of the night — Then — fit…

We dream—it is good we are dreaming— It would hurt us—were we awake— But since it is playing—kill us, And we are playing—shriek— What harm? Men die—externally— It is a truth—of Blood— But we—are dying in Drama— And Drama—is never…

We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face Deep in our hand— Not to cry—Tim and I— We are far too grand—…

We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We’re fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play—…

We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go— We follow Thee until Thou notice Us—no more— And then—reluctant—turn away To Con Thee o’er and o’er— And blame the scanty…

We can but follow to the Sun— As oft as He go down He leave Ourselves a Sphere behind— ‘Tis mostly—following— We go no further with the Dust Than to the Earthen Door— And then the Panels are reversed— And…

Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told— Love, by Memorial Mold— Birds, by the Snow.