He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust
He danced along the dingy days
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!
I typed this from memory I think it is right but I am not sure. This is my favorite poem...
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
I first read this as a teen, and...
And I have had a funeral in m brain
My daughter is named Emily because this is what my wife talked abou the night we met.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
Yeah, she was one crazy *****! Lol But she was the one who basically started self-reflective poetry. Think about it. She knew what she was talking about, but she was in love with Thoreau....hmmm...strange lives.
Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—
We passed the School...
"Why do I love" You, Sir?
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.
Because He knows—and
Do not You—
And We know not—
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so—
The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Like a lot of other people, I was forced to read Emily Dickinson's poetry early on in school before I was old enough to get into it and see that it wasn't as simple as it looks. I never liked her work until I was in graduate school, when I took a class taught by a Dickinson...