Poems on the topic: transience

Poems on the topic “transience” on Poets.by.

ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

To see the Summer Sky

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie -- True Poems flee --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

I cannot meet the Spring unmoved --

I cannot meet the Spring unmoved -- I feel the old desire -- A Hurry with a lingering, mixed, A Warrant to be fair -- A Competition in my sense With something hid in Her -- And as she vanishes, Remorse I saw no more of Her.
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

A little Snow was here and there

A little Snow was here and there Disseminated in her Hair -- Since she and I had met and played Decade had gathered to Decade -- But Time had added not obtained Impregnable the Rose For summer too indelible Too obdurate for Snows --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Some such Butterfly be seen

Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas -- Just at noon -- no later -- Sweet -- Then -- the License closes -- Some such Spice -- express and pass -- Subject to Your Plucking -- As the Stars -- You knew last Night -- Foreigners -- This Morning --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

I've known a Heaven, like a Tent

I've known a Heaven, like a Tent -- To wrap its shining Yards -- Pluck up its stakes, and disappear -- Without the sound of Boards Or Rip of Nail -- Or Carpenter -- But just the miles of Stare -- That signalize a Show's Retreat -- In North America -- No Trace -- no Figment of the Thing That dazzled, Yesterday, No Ring -- no Marvel -- Men, and Feats -- Dissolved as utterly -- As Bird's far Navigation Discloses just a Hue -- A plash of Oars, a Gaiety --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

As Summer into Autumn slips

As Summer into Autumn slips And yet we sooner say "The Summer" than "the Autumn," lest We turn the sun away, And almost count it an Affront The presence to concede Of one however lovely, not The one that we have loved -- So we evade the charge of Years On one attempting shy The Circumvention of the Shaft Of Life's Declivity.
CheerfulEmily Dickinson

Dying at my music!

Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave's run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando! Phials left, and the Sun!
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

How many Flowers fail in Wood

How many Flowers fail in Wood -- Or perish from the Hill -- Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful -- How many cast a nameless Pod Upon the nearest Breeze -- Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight -- It bear to Other Eyes --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

And this of all my Hopes

And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning rose Early and sere, its end Never Bud from a Stem Stepped with so gay a Foot Never a Worm so confident Bored at so brave a Root
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

The Snow that never drifts --

The Snow that never drifts -- The transient, fragrant snow That comes a single time a Year Is softly driving now -- So thorough in the Tree At night beneath the star That it was February's Foot Experience would swear -- Like Winter as a Face We stern and former knew Repaired of all but Loneliness By Nature's Alibit -- Were every storm so spice The Value could not be -- We buy with contrast -- Pang is good As near as memory --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

A full fed Rose on meals of Tint

A full fed Rose on meals of Tint A Dinner for a Bee In process of the Noon became - Each bright Mortality The Forfeit is of Creature fair Itself, adored before Submitting for our unknown sake To be esteemed no more --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Nature can do no more

Nature can do no more She has fulfilled her Dyes Whatever Flower fail to come Of other Summer days Her crescent reimburse If other Summers be Nature's imposing negative Nulls opportunity --

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