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My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -

Emily Dickinson

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Emily Dickinson
Age: 55 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 10
Died: 1886
Died: May 15
Poet
Writer
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Ai-mi-li Ti-chin-sen
Emilia Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
Owners
Stood
Passed
Corners
Till
Identified
Gun
Owner
Away
Loaded
Life
Carried

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How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
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Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue-The letting go A Presence-for an Expectation-.
Emily Dickinson
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Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!
Emily Dickinson
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Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.
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To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
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Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
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That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
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Forever is composed of Nows— 'Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home
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If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me.
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Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.
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The minister today preached about death and judgment, and what would become of those who behaved improperly - and somehow it scared me. He preached such an awful sermon I didn't think I should ever see you again until the Judgment Day. The subject of perdition seemed to please him somehow.
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[A] mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.
Emily Dickinson
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Our little kinsmen after rain In plenty may be seen, a pink and pulpy multitude The tepid ground upon A needless life if seemed to me Until a little bird As to a hospitality Advanced and breakfasted.
Emily Dickinson
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When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee. When a Lover is an Owner Different is he.
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To possess is past the instant we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
Emily Dickinson
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'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie- That Commerce will continue- And Trades as briskly fly.
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Spring is the Period Express from God.
Emily Dickinson
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Angels in the early morning may be seen the dews among. Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying. Do the buds to them belong?
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