Most read ▸
Emily Dickinson
I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there --
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler --
I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name --
For doubt, that I should know the Sound --
I judged my features -- jarred my hair --
I pushed my dimples by, and waited --
If they -- twinkled back --
Conviction might, of me --
I told myself, "Take Courage, Friend --
That -- was a former time --
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home!"
in one of my eyes the greatest wonders
and in the other sleep
so with sure glasses
light might be art
time is too great
to make use of
hived in glass
you may be making honey
not love
a beautiful woman
cut off her own breast
out of convenience
infirm as a child born yesterday
I am vexed to see myself
in my glass of wine
red and old
water where ice
is the expected fur
I fear winter
will be undone
the great glass maker
will not deliver us
the company will profit
big with child
but a bear will get thin
in his amber house
I half live
in the looking glass
fair as sand
I turn to follow the light
that mad thing
having met my corpse
long sad stories
live in the country
they might hit the glass
on the wings of bird
poor creatures without
any art or prayer
some far ripple shall decay
so much every day
and make an end of us
rarefy the very body of glass
bolt head cold
as an old castle
a land without reason
shall prevail
all night long
the fiery rose sweating
in a glass
yesterday my head
was lighter than my glass
in which I discover a mite
perfect as an angry letter
a glass fire
in my glass house
they build the whole
town in glass
who appointed them
to see and to find us
the body a flame
self provoking self
We monkeys dance
with little globes of glass,
get and forget, our getting
a fatal fever.