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Every Day Poems

A Poem A Day

  • Poetry of the 1500s
  • Poetry of the1600s
  • Poetry of the 1700s
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Dickinson, Emily

Success by Emily Dickinson

May 23, 2018 by Every Writer

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

SUCCESS.

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear!

Filed Under: 1800s Poetry, Dickinson, Emily

In a Library by Emily Dickinson

March 25, 2011 by Every Writer

In a Library

by Emily Dickinson

A precious, mouldering pleasure ‘t is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.

His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;

What interested scholars most,
What competitions ran
When Plato was a certainty.
And Sophocles a man;

When Sappho was a living girl,
And Beatrice wore
The gown that Dante deified.
Facts, centuries before,

He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.

His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

Filed Under: 1900s, Dickinson, Emily

XXVI by Emily Dickinson

January 2, 2011 by Every Writer

Emily Dickinson

XXVI.
The farthest thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the sky,
And rumbles still, though torrid noons
Have lain their missiles by.
The lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself,
But I would not exchange the bolt
For all the rest of life.
Indebtedness to oxygen
The chemist may repay,
But not the obligation
To electricity.
It founds the homes and decks the days,
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that waylaying light.
The thought is quiet as a flake, —
A crash without a sound;
How life’s reverberation
Its explanation found!

Filed Under: 1800s Poetry, Dickinson, Emily

The Only Ghost I Ever Saw by Emily Dickinson

October 19, 2010 by Every Writer

The Only Ghost I Ever Saw

by Emily Dickinson

The only ghost I ever saw
Was dressed in mechlin, ? so;
He wore no sandal on his foot,
And stepped like flakes of snow.
His gait was soundless, like the bird,
But rapid, like the roe;
His fashions quaint, mosaic,
Or, haply, mistletoe.
His conversation seldom,
His laughter like the breeze
That dies away in dimples
Among the pensive trees.
Our interview was transient,?
Of me, himself was shy;
And God forbid I look behind
Since that appalling day

Filed Under: 1800s Poetry, Dickinson, Emily

XI.by Emily Dickinson

September 4, 2010 by Every Writer

XI.

by Emily Dickinson

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
‘T is the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur, ? you’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

Filed Under: 1800s Poetry, Dickinson, Emily

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