Quote

We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.

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
Trust
Plumed
Feet
Procession
Even
Angelic
Rank
Uniforms
Angels
Snow
Angel

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Friends are nations in themselves.
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Spring is the Period Express from God.
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To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
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November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
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I felt a Cleaving in my Mind- As if my Brain had split- I tried to match it- Seam by Seam- But could not make it fit.
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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Open your life wide, and take me in forever. I will never be tired-I will never be noisy when you want to be still...nobody else will see me, but you-but that is enough-I shall not want any more.
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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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A Murmur in the Trees - to note - Not loud enough - for Wind - A Star - not far enough to seek - Nor near enough - to find
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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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Beauty is not caused. It is.
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Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on.
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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.
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I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said: 'T will keep. I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
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Answer July- Where is the Bee- Where is the Blush- Where is the Hay? Ah, said July- Where is the Seed- Where is the Bud- Where is the May- Answer Thee-Me-
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Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne'er succeed.
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I dwell in possibilities .
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The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small- Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all.
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