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The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.

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
Surpasses
Woe
Utter
Frequently
Unhappiness
Rose
Morning
Way
Jubilee

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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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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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Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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Life is so rotatory that the wilderness falls to each, sometime.
Emily Dickinson
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The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.
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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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Just a turn of the doorknob, and there lies freedom.
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Other Courtesies have been - Other Courtesy may be - We commend ourselves to thee Paragon of Chivalry.
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Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God.
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Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --
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A Letter is a Joy of Earth - It is denied the Gods
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes
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I don't profess to be profound but I do lay claim to common sense.
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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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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 friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.
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One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
Emily Dickinson
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I am one of the lingering bad ones, and so do I slink away, and pause, and ponder, and ponder, and pause, and do work without knowing why - not surely for this brief world, and more sure it is not for heaven - and I ask what this message of Christ means.
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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!
Emily Dickinson