万本电子书0元读

万本电子书0元读

顶部广告

Emily Dickinson Complete Works – World’s Best Collection电子书

售       价:¥

38人正在读 | 0人评论 6.2

作       者:Emily Dickinson

出  版  社:Imagination Books

出版时间:2018-08-02

字       数:40.4万

所属分类: 进口书 > 外文原版书 > 文学/自传/回忆录

温馨提示:数字商品不支持退换货,不提供源文件,不支持导出打印

为你推荐

  • 读书简介
  • 目录
  • 累计评论(0条)
  • 读书简介
  • 目录
  • 累计评论(0条)
Emily Dickinson Complete Works World's Best Collection This is the world’s best Emily Dickinson collection, including the most complete set of Dickinson’s works available plus many free bonus materials. Emily Dickinson Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was an American poet. She lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life, thought of as an eccentric by the locals, known as the ‘Woman in White’ for a penchant for wearing white. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence. She was a prolific private poet, her poems are unique with short lines, using slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation. Many of her unforgettable poems deal with themes of life, love, death and immortality. The ‘Must-Have’ Complete Collection In this irresistible collection you get a full set of Emily Dickinson’s work, totaling more than 1000 poems. Plus a comprehensive biography so you can experience the life of the woman behind the words. Works Included: Life Of Emily Dickinson - Written specially for this collection. The Poetical Works?Including among many, many others: “Because I could not stop for Death” “A Bird came down the Walk” “I’m Nobody! Who are you?” “I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died” “There is a pain — so utter —” “I taste a liquor never brewed” “I like to see it lap the Miles” “Hope”?is the thing with feathers The heart asks pleasure first The rainbow never tells me The White Heat There is another sky You cannot put a Fire out Get This Collection Right Now This is the best Dickinson collection you can get, so get it now and start enjoying and delving into Dickinson’s thought-provoking world like never before!
目录展开

Title Page

HISTORICAL CONTEXT – THE VICTORIAN ERA

LIFE OF EMILY DICKINSON

"Arcturus" is his other name

"Faith" is a fine invention

"Heaven" has different Signs-to me

"Heaven"-is what I cannot reach!

"Hope" is the thing with feathers

"Houses"-so the Wise Men tell me

"I want"-it pleaded-All its life

"Morning"-means "Milking"-to the Farmer

"Nature" is what we see

"Speech"-is a prank of Parliament

"Unto Me?" I do not know you

"Why do I love" You, Sir?

A Bird Came Down

A Book

A Burdock-clawed my Gown

A Charm invests a face

A Clock Stopped -- Not The Mantel's

A Cloud withdrew from the Sky

A Coffin—is a Small Domain

A darting fear-a pomp-a tear

A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

A Death blow is a Life blow to Some

A door just opened on a street

A doubt if it be Us

A drop fell on the apple tree

A Dying Tiger-moaned for Drink

A feather from the Whippoorwill

A first Mute Coming

A fuzzy fellow, without feet

A happy lip-breaks sudden

A House upon the Height

A Lady red-amid the Hill

A light exists in spring

A little bread-a crust-a crumb

A little East of Jordan

A little road not made man

A long, long sleep, a famous sleep

A loss of something ever felt I

A Man may make a Remark

A Mien to move a Queen

A Moth the hue of this

A Murmur in the Trees-to note

A narrow fellow in the grass

A nearness to Tremendousness

A Night-there lay the Days between

A Planted Life-diversified

A poor-torn heart-a tattered heart

A precious—mouldering pleasure

A Prison gets to be a friend

A Route of Evanescence

A science-so the Savants say

A Secret told

A sepal, petal, and a thorn

A Shade upon the mind there passes

A shady friend for torrid days

A single Screw of Flesh

A slash of Blue

A Solemn thing within the Soul

A solemn thing-it was-I said

A something in a summer's Day

A South Wind-has a pathos

A still—Volcano—Life

A thought went up my mind to-day

A throe upon the features

A toad can die of light!

A Tongue—to tell Him I am true!

A Tooth upon Our Peace

A transport one cannot contain

A Visitor in Marl

A Weight with Needles on the pounds

A Wife-at daybreak I shall be

A Wounded Deer-leaps highest

Abraham to Kill Him

Absence disembodies—so does Death

Absent Place-an April Day

Adrift! A little boat adrift!

Afraid! Of whom am I afraid?

After a hundred years

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes

After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- (341)

Again-his voice is at the door

Ah, Moon—and Star!

Ah, Teneriffe!

All but Death, can be Adjusted

All Circumstances are the Frame

All forgot for recollecting

All I may, if small

All overgrown by cunning moss

All the letters I can write

All these my banners be

Alone, I cannot be

Alter! When the Hills do

Although I put away his life

Always Mine!

Ambition cannot find him

Ample make this bed.

An altered look about the hills

An awful Tempest mashed the air

An English Breeze

An everywhere of silver

An Hour is a Sea

An ignorance a Sunset

And this of all my Hopes

Angels, in the early morning

Answer July

Apology for Her

Apparently with no Surprise

Arcturus

Artists wrestled here!

As by the dead we love to sit

As Children bid the Guest "Good Night"

As Everywhere of Silver

As far from pity, as complaint

As Frost is best conceived

As if I asked a common Alms

As if some little Arctic flower

As if the Sea should part

As imperceptibly as Grief

As One does Sickness over

As plan for Noon and plan for Night

As Sleigh Bells seem in summer

As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies

As Watchers hang upon the East

At last, to be identified!

At least—to pray—is left—is left

Autumn-overlooked my Knitting

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine

Away from Home are some and I—

Baffled for just a day or two

Banish Air from Air-

Be Mine the Doom-

Beauty-be not caused-It Is

Because I could not stop for Death (712)

Because the Bee may blameless hum

Beclouded

Bee! I'm expecting you!

Before He comes we weigh the Time!

Before I got my eye put out

Before the ice is in the pools

Before you thought of spring,

Behind Me-dips Eternity

Bereaved of all, I went abroad

Bereavement in their death to feel

Besides the Autumn poets sing

Besides this May

Best Gains—must have the Losses' Test

Best Things dwell out of Sight

Better—than Music! For I—who heard it

Between My Country—and the Others

Bird

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple

Bless God, he went as soldiers

Bloom upon the Mountain—stated

Bound-a trouble

braind within its groove, The

Bring me the sunset in a cup

But little Carmine hath her face

By a flower—By a letter

By Chivalries as tiny

By my Window have I for Scenery

By such and such an offering

By The Sea

Chartless

Civilization-spurns-the Leopard!

Cocoon above! Cocoon below!

Color—Caste—Denomination

Come Slowly

Come slowly—Eden!

Conjecturing a Climate

Conscious am I in my Chamber

Could I but ride indefinite

Could I—then—shut the door

Could live—did live

Could—I do more—for Thee

Crisis is a Hair

Crumbling is not an instant's Act

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?

Death is a Dialogue between

Death is potential to that Man

Death Leaves Us homesick, Who Behind

Death sets a thing of signigicant

Defrauded I a Butterfly

Delayed till she had ceased to know

Delight becomes pictorial

Delight is as the flight

Denial-is the only fact

Departed to the judgment,

Deprived of other Banquet

Despair's advantage is achieved

Did Our Best Moment last

Did the Harebell loose her girdle

Did we disobey Him?

Did you ever stand in a Cavern's Mouth

Distrustful of the Gentian

Do People moulder equally

Don't put up my Thread and Needle

Doom is the House without the Door

Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!

Drab Habitation of Whom?

Drama's Vitallest Expression is the Common Day

Dreams-are well-but Waking's better

Dropped into the Ether Acre

Dust is the only Secret

Dying (I heard a fly buzz when I died)

Dying! Dying in the night!

Dying! To be afraid of thee

Each life converges to some centre

Each Scar I'll keep for Him

Each Second is the last

Elysium is as far as to

Embarrassment of one another

Empty my Heart, of Thee

Endow the Living—with the Tears

Escaping backward to perceive

Essential Oils—are wrung

Except the Heaven had come so near

Except to Heaven, she is nought

Exclusion (The soul selects her own society)

Exhilaration—is within

Expectation—is Contentment

Experience is the Angled Road

Exultation is the going

Fairer through Fading—as the Day

Faith

Faith—is the Pierless Bridge

Fame is a bee

Fame is a fickle food (1659)

Fame is the tine that Scholars leave

Fame of Myself, to justify

Finding is the first Act

Finite—to fail, but infinite to Venture

First Robin

Fitter to see Him, I may be

Flowers—Well—if anybody

For Death—or rather

For each ecstatic instant

For every Bird a Nest

For largest Woman's Hearth I knew

For this—accepted Breath

Forever at His side to walk

Forever—it composed of Nows

Forget! The lady with the Amulet

Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre

Frequently the wood are pink

From Blank to Blank

From Cocoon forth a Butterfly

From Us She wandered now a Year

Funny—to be a Century

Further in Summer than the Birds

Garland for Queens, may be

Give little Anguish

Given in Marriage unto Thee

Glee—The great storm is over

Glowing is her Bonnet

God gave a loaf to every bird,

God is a distant—stately Lover

God made a little Gentian

God permit industrious angels

Going to Heaven!

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--

Good Morning—Midnight

Good night! which put the candle out?

Good night, because we must

Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt!

Gratitude—is not the mention

Great Caesar! Condescend

Grief is a Mouse

Had I not This, or This, I said

Had I presumed to hope

Have any like Myself

Have you got a Brook in your little heart

He forgot—and I—remembered

He fought like those Who've nought to lose

He found my Being—set it up

He fumbles at your Soul

He fumbles at your spirit

He gave away his Life

He outstripped Time with but a Bout

He parts Himself—like Leaves

He put the Belt around my life

He strained my faith

He told a homely tale

He touched me, so I live to know

He was weak, and I was strong—then

He who in Himself believes

Heart! We will forget him!

Heart, not so heavy as mine

Heart, We Will Forget Him

Heaven

Heaven has different Signs—to me

Heaven is so far of the Mind

Heaven is what I cannot reach!

Her—

Her breast is fit for pearls

Her final summer was it,

Her Grace is all she has-

Her smile was shaped like other smiles

Her Sweet turn to leave the Homestead

Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night

Her-"last Poems"

Herein a Blossom lies

His Bill an Auger is

His Feet are shod with Gauze

Home

Hope is the thing with feathers

Houses—so the Wise Men tell me—

How far is it to Heaven?

How fortunate the Grave

How happy I was if I could forget

How happy is the little Stone

How many Flowers fail in Wood

How many times these low feet staggered

How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand

How sick—to wait—in any place—but thine

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset

How the Waters closed above Him

How well I knew Her not

I am alive—I guess

I am ashamed—I hide

I asked no other thing

I breathed enough to learn the trick,

I bring an unaccustomed wine

I Came to buy a smile—today

I can wade Grief

I cannot be ashamed

I cannot buy it—'tis not sold

I cannot dance upon my Toes

I cannot live with You (No. 640)

I can't tell you—but you feel it

I cautious, scanned my little life

I could bring You Jewels—had I a mind to

I could die—to know

I could not drink it, Sweet

I could not prove the Years had feet

I could suffice for Him, I knew

I cried at Pity—not at Pain

I cross till I am weary

I Died For Beauty

I died for beauty but was scarce

I dreaded that first Robin, so

I dwell in Possibility

I envy Seas, whereon He rides

I fear a Man of frugal Speech

I felt a cleaving in my mind

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain (280)

I felt my life with both my hands

I found the phrase to every thought

I gained it so

I gave myself to Him

I got so I could take his name

I had a guinea golden

I had been hungry all the years-

I had no Cause to be awake

I had no time to Hate

I had no time to hate, because

I had not minded—Walls

I had some things that I called mine

I had the Glory—that will do

I have a Bird in spring

I have a King, who does not speak

I have never seen

I have never seen "Volcanoes"

I haven't told my garden yet

I heard a fly buzz when I died;

I held a Jewel in my fingers

I hide myself within my flower

I keep my pledge

I know a place where summer strives

I know lives, I could miss

I know some lonely Houses off the Road

I know that He exists

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells

I learned—at least—what Home could be

I like a look of Agony

I like to see it lap the miles,

I live with Him—I see His face

I lived on Dread

I lived on dread; to those who know

I lost a World - the other day!

I made slow Riches but my Gain

I make His Crescent fill or lack

I many times thought Peace had come

I meant to find Her when I came

I meant to have but modest needs

I measure every Grief I meet (561)

I ment to find her when I came;

I met a King this afternoon!

I never felt at Home—Below

I never hear the word 'escape'

I never lost as much but twice

I Never Saw a Moor

I never told the buried gold

I often passed the village

I pay—in Satin Cash

I play at Riches—to appease

I prayed, at first, a little Girl

I read my sentence—steadily

I reason, Earth is short

I reckon—when I count it all

I robbed the Woods

I rose—because He sank

I saw no Way—The Heavens were stitched

I see thee better—in the Dark

I send Two Sunsets

I shall keep singing!

I shall know why—when Time is over

I should have been too glad, I see

I should not dare to leave my friend

I showed her Heights she never saw

I sing to use the Waiting

I sometimes drop it, for a Quick

I started Early - Took my Dog

I stepped from plank to plank

I stole them from a Bee

I taste a liquor never brewed

I tend my flowers for thee

I think I was enchanted

I think just how my shape will rise

I think the Hemlock likes to stand

I think the longest Hour of all

I think to Live—may be a Bliss

I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl

I took my Power in my Hand

I tried to think a lonelier Thing

I want—it pleaded—All its life—

I was the slightest in the House

I watched the Moon around the House (629)

I went to heaven,--

I went to thank Her

I would distil a cup

I would not paint—a picture

I years had been from home,

I’ll tell you how the sun rose

Ideals are the Fairly Oil

If any sink, assure that this, now standing

If anybody's friend be dead

If Blame be my side—forfeit Me

If He dissolve—then—there is nothing

If He were living—dare I ask

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

If I could bribe them by a Rose

If I may have it, when it's dead

If I should cease to bring a Rose

If I should die

If I shouldn't be alive

If I'm lost-now

If it had no pencil

If pain for peace prepares

If recollecting were forgetting

If she had been the Mistletoe

If the foolish, call them "flowers"

If this is "fading"

If those I loved were lost

If What we could-were what we would

If you were coming in the fall,

If your Nerve, deny you

I'll clutch—and clutch

I'll send the feather from my Hat!

I'm

I'm "wife"-I've finished that

I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs

I'm nobody! Who are you?

I'm saying every day

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today

I'm the little

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"

Impossibility, like Wine

In Ebon Box, when years have flown

In falling Timbers buried

In lands I never saw—they say

In rags mysterious as these

In Winter in my Room

Inconceivably solemn!

Is Bliss then, such Abyss

Is it dead—Find it

Is it true, dear Sue?

It always felt to me—a wrong

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon

It can't be "Summer"!

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow

It did not surprise me

It don't sound so terrible—quite—as it did

It Dropped So Low -- In My Regard --

It dropped so low in my regard

It feels a shame to be Alive

It is a lonesome Glee

It is an honorable thought,

It is easy to work when the soul is at play

It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation

It knew no Medicine

It makes no difference abroad

It might be lonelier

It sifts from Leaden Sieves

It struck me every day

It tossed—and tossed

It troubled me as once I was

It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone

It was given to me by the Gods

It was not death, for I stood up,

It was too late for Man

It will be Summer—eventually

It would have starved a Gnat

It would never be Common—more—I said

It's all I have to bring today

It's coming—the postponeless Creature

It's easy to invent a Life

It's like the light, --

It's such a little thing to weep

It's thoughts—and just One Heart

I've heard an Organ talk, sometimes

I've known a Heaven, like a Tent

I've none to tell me to but Thee

I've nothing else—to bring, You know

I've seen a Dying Eye

Jesus! thy Crucifix

Joy to have merited the Pain

Just as He spoke it from his Hands

Just lost, when I was saved!

Kill your Balm—and its Odors bless you

Knows how to forget!

Least Bee that brew

Least Rivers—docile to some sea

Let Us play Yesterday

Life—is what we make of it

Light is sufficient to itself

Like eyes that looked on Wastes

Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews

Like her the Saints retire

Like Mighty Foot Lights—burned the Red

Like Some Old fashioned Miracle

Like trains of cars on tracks of plush

Love reckons by itself—alone

Love-is anterior to Life

Love-thou art high

Love—is anterior to Life

Love—is that Later Thing than Death

Love—thou art high

Low at my problem bending

Make me a picture of the sun

Mama never forgets her birds

Many a phrase has the English language

Many cross the Rhine

Me from Myself—to banish

Me prove it now—Whoever doubt

Me! Come! My dazzled face

Me, change! Me, alter!

Midsummer, was it, when They died

Mine—by the Right of the White Election!

More Life—went out—when He went

Morning—is the place for Dew

Morning—means

Morns like these—we parted

Most she touched me by her muteness

Much Madness is divinest Sense

Musicians wrestle everywhere

Must be a Woe

Mute thy Coronation

My Eye is fuller than my vase

My Faith is larger than the Hills

My first well Day—since many ill

My friend attacks my friend!

My friend must be a Bird

My Garden—like the Beach

My life closed twice

My life had stood

My nosegays are for captives;

My period had come for Prayer

My Portion is Defeat—today

My Reward for Being, was This

My River runs to thee

My Soul—accused me—And I quailed

My wheel is in the dark

My Worthiness is all my Doubt

Myself was formed—a Carpenter

Nature and God—I neither knew

Nature is what we see—

Nature rarer uses yellow

Nature the gentlest mother is

Nature-sometimes sears a Sapling

Nature, the gentlest mother,

Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling

Never for Society

New feet within my garden go

No Bobolink—reverse His Singing

No Crowd that has occurred

No Man can compass a Despair

No matter—now—Sweet

No Notice gave She, but a Change

No Other can reduce

No Prisoner be

No Rack can torture me

No Romance sold unto

Nobody knows this little Rose

None can experience sting

Noon—is the Hinge of Day

Not

Not "Revelation"-'tis-that waits

Not all die early, dying young

Not in this world to see his face

Not probable—The barest Chance

Not that We did, shall be the test

Of all the souls that stand create

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

Of Being is a Bird

Of Bronze—and Blaze

Of Brussels—it was not

Of Consciousness, her awful Mate

Of Course—I prayed

Of nearness to her sundered Things

Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe

Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?

Of Tribulation, these are They

On a Columnar Self

On such a night, or such a night

On that dear Frame the Years had worn

On this long storm the Rainbow rose

On this wondrous sea

Once more, my now bewildered Dove

One and One—are One

One Anguish—in a Crowd

One Blessing had I than the rest

One Crucifixion is recorded—only

One dignity delays for all

One Life of so much Consequence!

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,

One Sister have I in our house

One Year ago—jots what?

Only a Shrine, but Mine

Only God—detect the Sorrow

Our journey had advanced;

Our little Kinsmen—after Rain

Our Lives Are Swiss

Our share of night to bear

Ourselves were wed one summer—dear

Out of sight? What of that?

Over and over, like a Tune

Over the fence

Pain

Pain Has An Element

Pain has an element of blank;

Pain-expands the Time

Pain-has an Element of Blank

Papa above!

Partake as doth the Bee

Patience—has a quiet Outer

Peace is a fiction of our Faith

Perhaps I Asked Too Large

Perhaps you think me stooping

Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower

Pigmy seraphs—gone astray

Poor little Heart!

Portraits are to daily faces

Prayer is the little implement

Precious to Me—She still shall be

Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn

Promise This—When You be Dying

Publication

Publication—is the Auction

Purple—is fashionable twice

Put up my lute!

Read—Sweet—how others—strove

Rehearsal to Ourselves

Remorse

Removed from Accident of Loss

Renunciation

Rest at Night

Reverse cannot befall

Ribbons of the Year

Robbed by Death—but that was easy

Safe in their alabaster chambers,

Savior! I've no one else to tell

Severer Service of myself

Sexton! My Master's sleeping here

She bore it till the simple veins

She dealt her pretty words like Blades

She died at play

She died—this was the way she died

She dwelleth in the Ground

She hideth Her the last

She lay as if at play

She rose to His Requirement

She slept beneath a tree

She sped as Petals of a Rose

She staked her Feathers—Gained an Arc

She sweeps with many-colored brooms,

She went as quiet as the Dew

Shells from the Coast mistaking

She's happy, with a new Content

Should you but fail at—Sea

Sic transit gloria mundi

Size circumscribes—it has no room

Sleep is supposed to be

Smiling back from Coronation

Snow beneath whose chilly softness

Snow flakes

So bashful when I spied her!

So from the mould

So glad we are—a Stranger'd deem

So has a Daisy vanished

So much Summer

So proud she was to die

So set its Sun in Thee

So the Eyes accost—and sunder

So well that I can live without

Soil of Flint, if steady tilled

Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church

Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair!

Some such Butterfly be seen

Some things that fly there be

Some-Work for Immortality

Some, too fragile for winter winds

Some—Work for Immortality

Soto! Explore thyself!

Soul, Wilt thou toss again?

South Winds jostle them

Sown in dishonor

Speech—is a prank of Parliament—

Split the Lark-and you'll find the Music

Spring is the Period

Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds

Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning

Success is Counted Sweetest

Such is the Force of Happiness

Summer for thee, grant I may be

Summer Shower

Sunset at Night—is natural

Superfluous were the Sun

Surgeons must be very careful

Suspense—is Hostiler than Death

Sweet Mountains—Ye tell Me no lie

Sweet-safe-Houses

Sweet-You forgot-but I remembered

Sweet, to have had them lost

Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered

T was just this time last year I died.

Take your Heaven further on

Taking up the fair Ideal

Talk with prudence to a Beggar

Teach Him—When He makes the names

Tell All The Truth

That after Horror—that 'twas us

That Distance was between Us

That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet

That I did always love

That is solemn we have ended

The Admirations—and Contempts—of time

The Angle of a Landscape

The Battle fought between the Soul

The Bee is not afraid of me

The Beggar Lad-dies early

The Bible is an antique Volume

The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb

The Birds begun at Four o'clock

The Birds reported from the South

The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side

The Body grows without

The Brain-is wider than the Sky

The Brain, within its Groove

The Brain—is wider than the Sky

The bustle in a house

The bustle in a house

The Chariot

The Chemical conviction

The Child's faith is new

The Color of a Queen, is this

The Color of the Grave is Green

The Court is far away

The cricket sang,

The Daisy follows soft the Sun

The Day Came Slow

The Day that I was crowned

The Day undressed-Herself

The Definition of Beauty is

The difference between Despair

The Doomed—regard the Sunrise

The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea

The Dust behind I strove to join

The dying need but little, dear,--

The face I carry with me—last

The feet of people walking home

The Fingers of the Light

The first Day that I was a Life

The first Day's Night had come

The Flower must not blame the Bee

The Future—never spoke

The Gentian weaves her fringes

The good Will of a Flower

The Grace—Myself—might not obtain

The Grass so little has to do

The Guest is gold and crimson

The hallowing of Pain

The heart asks pleasure first

The Heart has narrow Banks

The Heaven vests for Each

The Himmaleh was known to stoop

The Hollows round His eager Eyes

The Judge is like the Owl

The Juggler's Hat her Country is

The Lady feeds Her little Bird

The Lamp burns sure—within

The last Night that She lived

The Leaves like Women interchange

The Loneliness One dare not sound

The lonesome for they know not What

The Love a Life can show Below

The Luxury to apprehend

The Malay—took the Pearl

The Manner of its Death

The Martyr Poets—did not tell

The Missing All—prevented Me

The Months have ends—the Years—a knot

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

The Morning after Woe

The morns are meeker than they were

The Mountain sat upon the Plain

The Mountains—grow unnoticed

The Murmur of a Bee

The Mystery of Pain

The name-of it-is "Autumn"

The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.

The Night was wide, and furnished scant

The One who could repeat the Summer day

The only ghost I ever saw

The Only News I know

The Outer—from the Inner

The pedigree of honey

The Poets light but Lamps

The power to be true to You

The Province of the Saved

The Railway Train

The rainbow never tells me

The Red—Blaze—is the Morning

The Robin for the Crumb

The Robin is the One

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune

The Rose did caper on her cheek

The Service without Hope

The show is not the show,

The Skies can't keep their secret!

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,

The Soul has Bandaged moments

The Soul Selects Her Own Society

The Soul that hath a Guest

The Soul unto itself (683)

The Soul's distinct connection

The Soul's Superior instants

The Spider holds a Silver Ball

The Spirit is the Conscious Ear

The Sun and Moon must make their haste

The Sun is gay or stark

The Sun kept setting—setting—still

The Sun kept stooping—stooping

The Sun—just touched the Morning

The Sunrise runs for Both

The Sunset stopped on Cottages

The sweetest Heresy received

The Test of Love—is Death

The thought beneath so slight a film

The Tint I cannot take—is best

The Trees like Tassels—hit—and swung

The Truth—is stirless

The Veins of other Flowers

The Way I read a Letter's—this

The White Heat

The Whole of it came not at once

The Wind begun to knead the Grass

The wind begun to rock the grass

The Wind didn't come from the Orchard—today

The wind trapped like a tired man,

The Winters are so short

The Woodpecker

The World-feels Dusty

The World-stands-solemner-to me

The World—stands—solemner—to me

The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous

Their Height in Heaven comforts not

There are two Ripenings—one—of sight

There came a Day at Summer's full

There came a Wind like a Bugle

There is a finished feeling

There is a flower that Bees prefer

There is a June when Corn is cut

There is a Languor of the Life

There is a morn by men unseen

There is a pain—so utter

There is a Shame of Nobleness

There is a word

There is an arid Pleasure

There is another sky

There is no frigate like a book

There's a certain Slant of light (258)

There's been a death in the opposite house

There's something quieter than sleep

These are the days when Birds come back

These tested Our Horizon

These—saw Visions

They ask but our Delight

They called me to the Window, for

They dropped like flakes

They have a little Odor—that to me

'They Have Not Chosen Me,' He Said

They leave us with the Infinite

They put Us far apart

They say that 'time assuages,

They Shut Me Up in Prose

They won't frown always—some sweet Day

This Bauble was preferred of Bees

This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life

This Consciousness that is aware

This Dust, and its Feature

This heart that broke so long

This is a Blossom of the Brain

This is my letter to the world,

This is the land the sunset washes,

This Merit hath the worst

This Quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies

This that would greet-an hour ago

This was a Poet-It is That

This was in the White of the Year

This World is not Conclusion

This-is the land-the Sunset washes

Tho' I get home how late—how late

Tho' my destiny be Fustian

Those fair—fictitious People

Those who have been in the Grave the longest

Three times—we parted—Breath—and I

Through lane it lay—through bramble

Through the Dark Sod—as Education

Through the strait pass of suffering

Tie the strings to my life, my Lord,

Till Death—is narrow Loving

Time feels so vast that were it not

'Tis Anguish grander than Delight

'Tis customary as we part

'Tis good-the looking back on Grief

'Tis little I—could care for Pearls

'Tis not that Dying hurts us so

'Tis One by One — the Father counts

'Tis Opposites-entice

'Tis so appalling-it exhilarates

'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!

'Tis Sunrise-Little Maid-Hast Thou

'Tis true—They shut me in the Cold

To be alive—is Power

To die

To die—takes just a little while

To fight aloud, is very brave

To fill a Gap

To hang our head-ostensibly

To hear an Oriole sing

To interrupt His Yellow Plan

To know just how He suffered-would be dear

To learn the Transport by the Pain

To lose one's faith-surpass

To love thee Year by Year

To make a prairie (1755)

To make One's Toilette-after Death

To my quick ear the leaves conferred;

To my small Hearth His fire came

To offer brave assistance

To One denied the drink

To own the Art within the Soul

To put this World down, like a Bundle

To this World she returned

To venerate the simple days

To wait an Hour—is long

Too little way the House must lie

Train

Triumph—may be of several kinds

Trust in the Unexpected

Truth—is as old as God

'Twas a long Parting-but the time

Twas Crisis—All the length had passed

'Twas just this time, last year, I died

'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch

'Twas Love—not me

Twas such a little—little boat

'Twas the old—road—through pain

'Twas warm—at first—like Us

Twice had Summer her fair Verdure

Two butterflies went out at noon

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar

Two Travellers perishing in Snow

'Twould ease—a Butterfly

Two—were immortal twice

Unable are the Loved to die

Uncertain lease—develops lustre

Under the Light, yet under

Undue Significance a starving man attaches

Unfulfilled to Observation

Unit, like Death, for Whom?

Unto like Story—Trouble has enticed me

Unto Me? I do not know you—

Unto my Books—so good to turn

Upon Concluded Lives

Victory comes late

Wait till the Majesty of Death

Water, is taught by thirst

We can but follow to the Sun

We Cover Thee—Sweet Face

We do not play on Graves

We don't cry—Tim and I

We dream—it is good we are dreaming

We Grow Accustomed to the Dark

We learned the Whole of Love

We like march, his shoes are purple,

We lose—because we win

We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints

We miss Her, not because We see

We outgrow love, like other things

We play at paste,

We pray-to Heaven

We see-Comparatively

We should not mind so small a flower

We talked as Girls do

We thirst at first—'tis Nature's Act

We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing

Went up a year this evening!

Wert Thou but ill—that I might show thee

What care the Dead, for Chanticleer

What did They do since I saw Them?

What I see not, I better see

What if I say I shall not wait!

What Inn is this

What is—

What shall I do when the Summer troubles

What shall I do—it whimpers so

What Soft—Cherubic Creatures

What would I give to see his face?

When Bells stop ringing—Church—begins

When Diamonds are a Legend

When I count the seeds

When I have seen the Sun emerge

When I hoped, I recollect

When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side

When Night is almost done

When One has given up One's life

When Roses cease to bloom, Sir

When the Astronomer stops seeking

When we stand on the tops of Things

Where bells no more affright the morn

Where I have lost, I softer tread

Where Ships of Purple—gently toss

Where Thou art—that—is Home

Whether my bark went down at sea

While Asters-

While it is alive

Who Court obtain within Himself

Who Giants know, with lesser Men

Who never lost, are unprepared

Who occupies this House?

Whose are the little beds, I asked

Whose cheek is this?

Why do I love You, Sir?

Why make it doubt—it hurts it so

Why-do they shut Me out of Heaven?

Wild Nights! Wild Nights!

Wild Nights-Wild Nights!

Will there really be a "Morning"?

With thee, in the Desert

Within my Garden, rides a Bird

Within my reach!

Without this—there is nought

Wolfe demanded during dying

Woodpecker, The

Would you like summer? Taste of ours

You cannot put a Fire out

You constituted Time

You know that Portrait in the Moon

You left me-Sire-two Legacies

You love me—you are sure

You love the Lord—you cannot see

You said that I

You see I cannot see—your lifetime

You taught me Waiting with Myself

You'll find—it when you try to die

You'll know Her—by Her Foot

You'll know it—as you know 'tis Noon

Your Riches—taught me—Poverty

You're right—

累计评论(0条) 0个书友正在讨论这本书 发表评论

发表评论

发表评论,分享你的想法吧!

买过这本书的人还买过

读了这本书的人还在读

回顶部