Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

Except To Heaven, She Is Nought - Poem by Emily Dickinson


Except to Heaven, she is nought.
Except for Angels—lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.

Except for winds—provincial.
Except by Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.

The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence—Home!

Comments about Except To Heaven, She Is Nought by Emily Dickinson

  • Gold Star - 16,294 Points John Westlake (10/18/2014 7:29:00 AM)

    Everything has to have a home indeed. Quite like this one (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: flower, heaven, lost, home, butterfly, angel, wind

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

[Hata Bildir]