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Besides the Autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days, A little this side of the snow, And that side of the Haze..., Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind- Thy windy will to bear!
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
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Bears
Grant
Mind
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Besides
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November
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Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue-The letting go A Presence-for an Expectation-.
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Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye It bears the Soul as bold As it were rocked in Steel With Arms of Steel at either side— It joins—behind the Veil To what, could We presume The Bridge would cease to be To Our far, vacillating Feet A first Necessity.
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After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.
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Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
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The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.
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They might not need me but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
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There's a certain Slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are.... When it comes, the Landscape listens— Shadows—hold their breath— When it goes, 'tis like the Distance On the look of Death.
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That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.
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You remember my ideal cat has always a huge rat in its mouth, just going out of sight - though going out of sight in itself has a peculiar pleasure.
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You'll find it-when you try to die- The Easier to let go- For recollecting such as went- You could not spare-you know.
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The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.
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Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers as the Cedars Impregnable of Eye And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky Of Visitors--the fairest For Occupation--This The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise
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Sunrise: day's great progenitor.
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You are nipping in the bud fancies which I let blossom. The shore is safer, but I love to buffet the sea - I can count the bitter wrecks here in these pleasant waters, and hear the murmuring winds, but oh, I love the danger!
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Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
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Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
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November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
Emily Dickinson