Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
Emily Elizabeth Dickinsonwas an American poet. Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts. Although part of a prominent family with strong ties to its community, Dickinson lived much of her life highly introverted. After studying at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she briefly attended the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Considered an eccentric by locals, she developed a noted penchant for white clothing and became known for her reluctance to...
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth10 December 1830
CityAmherst, MA
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful-.
How odd that girl's life looks Behind this soft eclipse! I think that earth seems so To those in heaven now. This being comfort, then That other kind was pain; But why compare? I'm wife! stop there!
Not to discover weakness is The Artifice of strength.
Nods from the Gilded pointers - Nods from the Seconds slim - Decades of Arrogance between The Dial life - And Him -
If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
No Life can pompless pass away - The lowliest career To the same Pageant wends its way As that exalted here -
I took one Draught of Life - I'll tell you what I paid - Precisely an existence - The market price, they said.
She rose to his requirement, dropped The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
Best Witchcraft is Geometry To the magician's mind - His ordinary acts are feats To thinking of mankind.
What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot- The opening of a Door.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
Spring is the Period Express from God.