Quote

March is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy.

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
Boys
Betray
Joy
Month
Prognostication
Persons
March
Sham
Firsts
Expectations
Betrays
First
Spring
Firmness
Trying
Months
Pompous
Things
Becoming
Springtime
Coming
Expectation

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September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets - Crows - and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming - An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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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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You cannot put a fire out! A thing that can ignite can go itself- without a flame- E'en through the darkest night!
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A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides
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Two Seasons, it is said, exist- The Summer of the Just, And this of Ours, diversified With Prospect, and with Frost- May not our Second with its First So infinite compare That We but recollect the one The other to prefer?
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To be alive is power existence in itself without a further function omnipotence.
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Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit-Life!
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Affection is like bread, unnoticed till we starve, and then we dream of it, and sing of it, and paint it, when every urchin in the street has more than he can eat.
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
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I have an appetite for silence.
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I tasted - careless - then - I did not know the Wine Came once a World - Did you? Oh, had you told me so - This Thirst would blister - easier - now
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Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
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I took one Draught of Life - I'll tell you what I paid - Precisely an existence - The market price, they said.
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Safe Despair it is that raves- Agony is frugal. Puts itself severe away For its own perusal.
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Elysium is as far as to The very nearest room, If in that room a friend await Felicity of doom.
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My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -
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