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
Dreams are the subtle Dower/ That make us rich an Hour/ Then fling us poor/ Out of the purple door.
And you dropt, lost, When something broke-- And let you from a Dream
The revery alone will do If bees are few.
Affection is like bread, unnoticed till we starve, and then we dream of it, and sing of it, and paint it, when every urchin in the street has more than he can eat.
We dream — it is good we are dreaming — It would hurt us — were we awake — But since it is playing — kill us, And we are playing — shriek — What harm? Men die — externally — It is a truth — of Blood — But we — are dying in Drama — And Drama — is never dead — Cautious — We jar each other — And either — open the eyes — Lest the Phantasm — prove the Mistake — And the livid Surprise Cool us to Shafts of Granite — With just an Age — and Name — And perhaps a phrase in Egyptian — It's prudenter — to dream —
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
Remorse --is Memory --awake --/ Her Parties all astir --/ A Presence of Departed Acts --/ At window --and at Door --
Remember if you marry for beauty, thou bindest thyself all thy life for that which perchance, will neither last nor please thee one year: and when thou hast it, it will be to thee of no price at all.
Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar - Requires sorest need.
Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed.
Narcotics cannot still the toothThat Nibbles at the soul
We never know where we go when we are going, We jest and shut the door; Fate - following behind us -bolts it, And we accost no more
We never know how high we are till we are called to rise; and then, if we are true to plan, our stature's touch the skies.
The abdication of belief makes the behavior small -- better an ignis fatuus than no illume at all.