Emily Dickinson›Poezii

Eu am murit pentru frumusețe. Dar abia am fost în lut așezată, Că un altul – mort pentru Adevăr – fu întins Într-o groapă alăturată. Încet m-a

Eu, neștiind când or să vină zorii, Deschid toate ușile, prevăzătoare! Ei vor avea - ori pene, ca o pasăre, Ori valuri, ca un țărm de mare...

I\'m nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there\'s a pair of us -don\'t tell! They\'d banish us, you know. How dreary to be

This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me, The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty. Her message is committed To

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself, Its

LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.

THE LAST night that she lived, It was a common night, Except the dying; this to us Made nature different. We noticed smallest

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading--treading--till it seemed That Sense was breaking through-- And when they

If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done; If

A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.

There is a solitude of space, A solitude of sea, A solitude of death, but these Society shall be, Compared with that profounder site, That polar

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading--treading--till it seemed That Sense was breaking through-- And when they

The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot\'s pausing At

The brain is wider than the sky, For, put them side by side, The one the other will include With ease, and you beside. The brain is deeper

I GAVE myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way. The wealth might disappoint,

I HIDE myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too— And angels know the rest. I hide

I like a look of agony, Because I know it ’s true; Men do not sham convulsion, Nor simulate a throe. The eyes glaze once, and that is death.

\"Arcturus\" is his other name— I\'d rather call him \"Star.\" It\'s very mean of Science To go and interfere! I slew a worm the other day—

There\'s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can

I\'m nobody ! Who are you ? Are you nobody, too ? Then there\'s a pair of us -don\'t tell ! They\'d banish us, you know. How dreary to be

\"Heaven\"—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—\"Heaven\" is—to Me! The Color, on the

A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.

I ’M wife; I ’ve finished that, That other state; I ’m Czar, I ’m woman now: It ’s safer so. How odd the girl’s life looks