"testata-cards-new
Thanks for saying you like it!
 Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson
December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886


Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
was an American poet.
She spent almost all her life in Amherst, Massachusetts, where she was born and where she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life.
Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence.
Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.
Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.
It was not until after her death at 56 that her collections of poetry were published.

"After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs."

Emily Dickinson

"Saying nothing...sometimes says the most."

Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the fall,
I ’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I ’d wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I ’d count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen’s land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I ’d toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

Emily Dickinson

21 Feb

Hope

“Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.”

Emily Dickinson

Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging.
I may remember him!

"Heart, we will forget him" by Emily Dickinson

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!

Emily Dickinson

“Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.”

Emily Dickinson

"Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes. "
Emily Dickinson

“I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name”

Emily Dickinson

Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without words
And never stops at all.

And sweetest, in the gale, is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That keeps so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet, never, in extremity
It ask a crumb of me.

"Hope is a Thing With Feathers" by Emily  Dickinson

Copyright @searchtherightwords.com 2012. All rights reserved - Blue Inx Srl - P.Iva IT06234550488