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Poems by Emily Dickinson: Purple Clover
by EmilyDickinsonThe Sea of SunsetThe BeePurple Clover Purple Clover There is a flower that bees prefer, And butterflies desire; To gain the purple democrat The humming-birds aspire. And…Poems by Emily Dickinson: XVI ("Presentiment")
by EmilyDickinsonThe BeeXVIIXVI 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.Poems by Emily Dickinson: May-Flower
by EmilyDickinsonIWhy?May-Flower May-Flower Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss, Known by the knoll, Next to the robin In every…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Two Worlds
by EmilyDickinsonXIXThe MountainTwo Worlds Two Worlds It makes no difference abroad, The seasons fit the same, The mornings blossom into noons, And split their pods of flame. Wild-…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Death and Life
by EmilyDickinsonThe WindXXVIDeath and Life Death and Life Apparently with no surprise To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play In accidental power. The blond assassin passes…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Indian Summer
by EmilyDickinsonXXVIAutumnIndian Summer Indian Summer These are the days when birds come back, A very few, a bird or two, To take a backward look. These are the days when skies put on…Poems by Emily Dickinson: IV ("Perhaps")
by EmilyDickinsonWhy?VIV Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower? But I could never sell. If you would like to borrow Until the daffodil Unties her yellow bonnet Beneath the village door,…Poems by Emily Dickinson: A Service of Song
by EmilyDickinsonVVIIA Service of Song A Service of Song Some keep the Sabbath going to church; I keep it staying at home, With a bobolink for a chorister, And an orchard for a dome.…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Summer's Armies
by EmilyDickinsonVIIThe GrassSummer's Armies Summer's Armies Some rainbow coming from the fair! Some vision of the world Cashmere I confidently see! Or else a peacock's purple train,…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Too Late
by EmilyDickinsonIAstra CastraToo Late Too Late Delayed till she had ceased to know, Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay. An hour behind the fleeting breath, Later by…Trending
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