Emily Dickinson (10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)
Where I have lost, I softer tread
Where I have lost, I softer tread—
I sow sweet flower from garden bed—
I pause above that vanished head
Whom I have lost, I pious guard
From accent harsh, or ruthless word—
Feeling as if their pillow heard,
When I have lost, you'll know by this—
A Bonnet black—A dusk surplice—
A little tremor in my voice
Why, I have lost, the people know
Who dressed in flocks of purest snow
Went home a century ago
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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