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LOOK back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!
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
Looks
Eyes
Sinks
Time
Eye
Doubtless
Nature
Calendars
Back
Kindly
Best
Softly
Look
Trembling
Human
West
Humans
Sun
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The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
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Just a turn of the doorknob, and there lies freedom.
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Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.
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PRESENTIMENT is that long shadow on the lawn Indicative that suns go down The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
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We trust in plumed procession For such the angels go Rank after rank, with even feet/And uniforms of snow.
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I dwell in Possibility A fairer house than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior — for Doors.
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To multiply the harbors does not reduce the sea.
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Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.
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I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
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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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Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
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Other Courtesies have been - Other Courtesy may be - We commend ourselves to thee Paragon of Chivalry.
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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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The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
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An altered look about the hills A Tyrian light the village fills A wider sunrise in the dawn A deeper twilight on the lawn A print of a vermilion foot A purple finger on the slope A flippant fly upon the pane A spider at his trade again An added strut in chanticleer A flower expected everywhere.
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Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -
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I dwell in possibility.
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Beauty crowds me till I die. Beauty, mercy have on me! Yet if I expire to-day Let it be in sight of thee!
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