Emily Dickinson

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

The Angle Of A Landscape - Poem by Emily Dickinson


The Angle of a Landscape—
That every time I wake—
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack—

Like a Venetian—waiting—
Accosts my open eye—
Is just a Bough of Apples—
Held slanting, in the Sky—

The Pattern of a Chimney—
The Forehead of a Hill—
Sometimes—a Vane's Forefinger—
But that's—Occasional—

The Seasons—shift—my Picture—
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake—to find no—Emeralds—
Then—Diamonds&m dash;which the Snow

From Polar Caskets—fetched me—
The Chimney—and the Hill—
And just the Steeple's finger—
These—never stir at all—

Comments about The Angle Of A Landscape by Emily Dickinson

  • Gold Star - 36,605 Points * Sunprincess * (5/25/2014 12:53:00 AM)

    .............an amazing write....wish I could write a poem like this... (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: sometimes, snow, sky, time

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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