Introduction: Dickinson the writer
Selected poems and commentaries. In the name of the Bee ; The morns are meeker than they were ; An altered look about the hills ; These are the days when birds come back ; Sade in their alabaster chambers ; Our lives are Swiss ; Did the harebell loose her girdle ; To fight aloud, is very brave ; I have never seen "volcanoes" ; A wounded deer leaps highest ; Through the straight pass of suffering ; Title divine, is mine ; I'll tell you how the sun rose ; An awful tempest mashed the air ; He forgot and I remembered ; Some keep the Sabbath going to church ; How many times these low feet staggered ; Bound a trouble and lives will bear it ; That after horror that 'twas us ; The robin's my criterion for tune ; A clock stopped ; Wild nights wild nights! ; Civilization spurns the leopard! ; Of all the souls that stand create ; The zeros taught us phosphorus ; My first well day since many ill ; It sifts from leaden sieves ; A weight with needles on the pounds ; A shady friend for torrid days ; I can wade grief ; "Hope" is the thing with feathers ; Of bronze and blaze ; There's a certain slant of light ; There came a day at summer's full ; He put the belt around my life ; Of nearness to her sundered things ; I felt a funeral in my brain ; 'Tis so appalling it exhilarates ; I would not paint a picture ; She sights a bird she chuckles ; It was not death for I stood up ; A bird, came down he walk ; The soul has bandaged moments ; I know that he exists ; After great pain a formal feeling comes ; This world is not conclusion ; I like to see it lap the miles ; Dare you see a soul at the "white heat"? ; One need not be a chamber to be haunted ; The soul selects her own society ; There are two ripenings ;
The first day's night had come ; 'Twas like a maelstrom, with a notch ; A charm invests a face ; I had been hungry all the years ; It would have starved a gnat ; This was a poet ; I died for beauty but was scarce ; The outer from the inner ; I dwell in possibility ; Because I could not stop for death ; There is a pain so utter ; A still volcano life ; This is my letter to the world ; It feels a shame to be alive ; 'Tis not that dying hurts us so ; I reckon when I count at all ; I measure every grief I meet ; A visitor in Marl ; The angle of a landscape ; We dream it is good we are dreaming ; The heart asks pleasure first ; I heard a fly buzz when I died ; God is a distant stately lover ; Much madness is divinest sense ; I saw no way the heavens were stitched ; To fill a gap ; Rehearsal to ourselves ; What soft cherubic creatures ; It makes no difference abroad ; The tint I cannot take is best ; The way I read a letter's this ; I cannot live with you ; They put us far apart ; The props assist the house ; On a columnar self ; It's easy to invent a life ; Pain has an element of blank ; My life had stood a loaded gun ; Essential oils are wrung ; Four trees upon a solitary acre ; Renunciation is a piercing virtue ; Publication is the auction ; Growth of man like growth of nature ; The wind begun to rock the grass ;
I never saw a moor ; The admirations and contempts of time ; Color caste denomination ; She rose to his requirement dropt ; They say that "time assuages" ; I felt a cleaving in my mind ; Further in summer than the birds ; Split the lark and you'll find the music ; I stepped from plank to plank ; The poets light but lamps ; As imperceptibly as grief ; A light exists in spring ; Bee! I'm expecting you! ; He scanned it staggered ; Crumbling is not an instant's act ; Bloom is result to meet a flower ; As the starved maelstrom laps the navies ; A narrow fellow in the grass ; Ashes denote that fire was ; The last night that she lived ; The sky is low the clouds are mean ; The murmuring of bees has ceased ; These are the nights that beetles love ; A spider sewed at night ; The bone that has no marrow ; Shall I take thee, the poet said ; Tell all the truth but tell it slant ; A word dropped careless on a page ; Now I knew I lost her ; The things we thought that we should do ; Art thou the thing I wanted? ; I never hear that one is dead ; Abraham to kill him ; Wonder is not precisely knowing ; The rat is the concisest tenant ; Those cattle smaller than a bee ; Long years apart can make no ; The bat is dun, with wrinkled wings ; Lay this laurel on the one ; The road was lit with moon and star ; A route of evanescence ; The fascinating chill that music leaves ; 'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe ; Mine enemy is growing old ; The Bible is an antique volume ; Those dying then ; He ate and drank the precious words ; There came a wind like a bugle ; Apparently with no surprise ; A word made flesh is seldom ; In winter in my room ; The waters chased him as he fled ; 'Twas here my summer paused ; My life closed twice before its close ; To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee.
