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Poems by Emily Dickinson: Out of the Morning
by EmilyDickinsonMother NatureIIIOut of the Morning Out of the Morning Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Old-Fashioned
by EmilyDickinsonBy the SeaA TempestOld-Fashioned Old-Fashioned Arcturus is his other name, — I'd rather call him star! It's so unkind of science To go and interfere! I pull a flower…Poems by Emily Dickinson: The Wind's Visit
by EmilyDickinsonXXIXXXXIThe Wind's Visit The Wind's Visit The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, "Come in," I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid,…Poems by Emily Dickinson: A Thunder-Storm
by EmilyDickinsonXXXVIWith FlowersA Thunder-Storm A Thunder-Storm The wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low, — He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky.…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Day's Parlor
by EmilyDickinsonIIIThe Sun's WooingDay's Parlor Day's Parlor The day came slow, till five o'clock, Then sprang before the hills Like hindered rubies, or the light A sudden musket spills…Poems by Emily Dickinson: The Juggler of Day
by EmilyDickinsonProblemsMy CricketThe Juggler of Day The Juggler of Day Blazing in gold and quenching in purple, Leaping like leopards to the sky, Then at the feet of the old horizon…Poems by Emily Dickinson: My Cricket
by EmilyDickinsonThe Juggler of DayXLVMy Cricket My Cricket Farther in summer than the birds, Pathetic from the grass, A minor nation celebrates Its unobtrusive mass. No ordinance is…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Summer's Obsequies
by EmilyDickinsonXLVIFringed GentianSummer's Obsequies Summer's Obsequies The gentian weaves her fringes, The maple's loom is red. My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but…Poems by Emily Dickinson: Fringed Gentian
by EmilyDickinsonSummer's ObsequiesNovemberFringed Gentian Fringed Gentian God made a little gentian; It tried to be a rose And failed, and all the summer laughed. But just before the snows…Poems by Emily Dickinson: The Sun's Wooing
by EmilyDickinsonDay's ParlorThe RobinThe Sun's Wooing The Sun's Wooing The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all…Trending
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