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Love is like the wild rose-briar;Friendship like the holly-tree.The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,But which will bloom most constantly?The ...more

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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

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The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth,--The sweeping up the heart,And putting love awayWe shall not...more

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PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.

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She dealt her pretty words like Blades --How glittering they shone --And every One unbared a NerveOr wantoned with a Bone --She never deemed -- she hu...more

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Tell the truth, but tell it slant.

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How happy is the little stoneThat rambles in the road alone,And doesn't care about careers,And exigencies never fears;Whose coat of elemental brownA p...more

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We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

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A wounded dear leaps the highest

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We do not play on Graves—Because there isn't Room—Besides—it isn't even—it slantsAnd People come—And put a Flower on it—And hang their faces so—We're ...more

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Is Bliss then, such Abyss,I must not put my foot amissFor fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my footThan save my Boot --For yet to buy another Pair...more

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Mine Enemy is growing old --I have at last Revenge --The Palate of the Hate departs --If any would avenge Let him be quick -- the Viand flits --It is ...more

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I had been hungry all the years-My noon had come, to dine-I, trembling, drew the table nearAnd touched the curious wine. 'Twas this on tables I had se...more

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I measure every Grief I meetWith narrow, probing, Eyes;I wonder if It weighs like Mine,Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long,Or did it ...more

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It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down;It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues, for noon.It was not frost, for on...more