Emily Dickinson (10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)
Midsummer, was it, when They died
Midsummer, was it, when They died—
A full, and perfect time—
The Summer closed upon itself
In Consummated Bloom—
The Corn, her furthest kernel filled
Before the coming Flail—
When These—leaned unto Perfectness—
Through Haze of Burial—
Emily Dickinson's Other Poems
- "Arcturus" is his other name
- "Faith" is a fine invention
- "Heaven" has different Signs—to me
- "Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
- "Hope" is the thing with feathers
- "Houses"—so the Wise Men tell me
- "I want"—it pleaded—All its ...
- "Morning"—means "Milking"—to...
- "Nature" is what we see
- "Unto Me?" I do not know you
- "Why do I love" You, Sir?
- A Bird Came Down
- A Book
- A Burdock—clawed my Gown
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