Impossibility, like Wine
838
Impossibility, like Wine
Exhilarates the Man
Who tastes it; Possibility
Is flavorless—Combine
A Chance's faintest Tincture
And in the former Dram
Enchantment makes ingredient
As certainly as Doom—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A Book
There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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How far is it to Heaven?
929
How far is it to Heaven?
As far as Death this way—
Of River or of Ridge beyond
Was no discovery.
How far is it to Hell?
As far as Death this way—
How far left hand the Sepulchre
Defies Topography.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Away from Home are some and I—
821
Away from Home are some and I—
An Emigrant to be
In a Metropolis of Homes
Is easy, possibly—
The Habit of a Foreign Sky
We—difficult—acquire
As Children, who remain in Face
The more their Feet retire.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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To be alive—is Power
677
To be alive—is Power—
Existence—in itself—
Without a further function—
Omnipotence—Enough—
To be alive—and Will!
'Tis able as a God—
The Maker—of Ourselves—be what—
Such being Finitude!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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So the Eyes accost—and sunder
752
So the Eyes accost—and sunder
In an Audience—
Stamped—occasionally—forever—
So may Countenance
Entertain—without addressing
Countenance of One
In a Neighboring Horizon—
Gone—as soon as known—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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It is an honorable thought,
It is an honorable thought,
And makes one lift one's hat,
As one encountered gentlefolk
Upon a daily street,
That we've immortal place,
Though pyramids decay,
And kingdoms, like the orchard,
Flit russetly away.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Rainbow Never Tells Me
The rainbow never tells me
That gust and storm are by,
Yet is she more convincing
Than Philosophy.
My flowers turn from Forums—
Yet eloquent declare
What Cato couldn't prove me
Except the birds were here!
poem by Emily Dickinson
Added by Dan Costinaş
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They say that 'time assuages,
They say that 'time assuages,'--
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens,
As sinews do, with age.
Time is a test of trouble,
But not a remedy.
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no malady.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Snow beneath whose chilly softness
942
Snow beneath whose chilly softness
Some that never lay
Make their first Repose this Winter
I admonish Thee
Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor
We so new bestow
Than thine acclimated Creature
Wilt Thou, Austere Snow?
poem by Emily Dickinson
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