Emily Dickinson

Glass was the Street — in tinsel Peril
Tree and Traveller stood —
Filled was the Air with merry venture
Hearty with Boys the Road —

Shot the lithe Sleds like shod vibrations
Emphasized and gone
It is the Past’s supreme italic
Makes this Present mean —
-Emily Dickinson

Glee — The great storm is over —
Four — have recovered the Land —
Forty — gone down together —
Into the boiling Sand —

Ring — for the Scant Salvation —
Toll — for the bonnie Souls —
Neighbor — and friend — and Bridegroom —
Spinning upon the Shoals —

How they will tell the Story —
When Winter shake the Door —
Till the Children urge —
But the Forty —
Did they — come back no

Glory is that bright tragic thing
That for an instant
Means Dominion
Warms some poor name
That never felt the Sun,
Gently replacing
In oblivion
-Emily Dickinson

Glowing is her Bonnet,
Glowing is her Cheek,
Glowing is her Kirtle,
Yet she cannot speak.

Better as the Daisy
From the Summer hill
Vanish unrecorded
Save by tearful rill —

Save by loving sunrise
Looking for her face.
Save by feet unnumbered
Pausing at the place.
-Emily Dickinson

“Go tell it” — What a Message —
To whom — is specified —
Not murmur — not endearment —
But simply — we — obeyed —
Obeyed — a Lure — a Longing?
Oh Nature — none of this —
To Law — said sweet Thermopylae
I give my dying Kiss —
-Emily Dickinson

God is a distant — stately Lover —
Woos, as He states us — by His Son —
Verily, a Vicarious Courtship —
“Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were such an One —

But, lest the Soul — like fair “Priscilla”
Choose the Envoy — and spurn the Groom —
Vouches, with hyperbolic archness —
“Miles”, and “John Alden” were Synonym —
-Emily

God is indeed a jealous God –
He cannot bear to see
That we had rather not with Him
But with each other play.
-Emily Dickinson

God made a little Gentian —
It tried — to be a Rose —
And failed — and all the Summer laughed —
But just before the Snows

There rose a Purple Creature —
That ravished all the Hill —
And Summer hid her Forehead —
And Mockery — was still —

The Frosts were her condition —
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North — invoke it —
Creator — Shall I — bloom?

God made no act without a cause,
Nor heart without an aim,
Our inference is premature,
Our premises to blame.
-Emily Dickinson

God permits industrious Angels —
Afternoons — to play —
I met one — forgot my Schoolmates —
All — for Him — straightway —
God calls home — the Angels — promptly —
At the Setting Sun —
I missed mine — how dreary — Marbles —
After playing Crown!
-Emily Dickinson

Going to Heaven!
I don’t know when —
Pray do not ask me how!
Indeed I’m too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven!
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the Shepherd’s arm!

Perhaps you’re going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little space for me
Close to the two I lost —
The smallest “Robe” will fit me
And just a bit of

Going to Him! Happy letter!
Tell Him —
Tell Him the page I didn’t write —
Tell Him — I only said the Syntax —
And left the Verb and the pronoun out —
Tell Him just how the fingers hurried —
Then — how they waded — slow — slow —
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages —
So you could see what moved them so —

Tell Him — it wasn’t a

Go not too near a House of Rose —
The depredation of a Breeze —
Or inundation of a Dew
Alarms its walls away —

Nor try to tie the Butterfly,
Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy,
In insecurity to lie
Is Joy’s insuring quality.
-Emily Dickinson

Good Morning — Midnight —
I’m coming Home —
Day — got tired of Me —
How could I — of Him?

Sunshine was a sweet place —
I liked to stay —
But Morn — didn’t want me — now —
So — Goodnight — Day!

I can look — can’t I —
When the East is Red?
The Hills — have a way — then —
That puts the Heart — abroad —

You — are not so fair

Good Night! Which put the Candle out?
A jealous Zephyr — not a doubt —
Ah, friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The Angels — labored diligent —
Extinguished — now — for you!

It might — have been the Light House spark —
Some Sailor — rowing in the Dark —
Had importuned to see!
It might — have been the waning lamp
That lit the Drummer from the Camp
To purer Reveille!

Good night, because we must,
How intricate the dust!
I would go, to know!
Oh incognito!
Saucy, Saucy Seraph
To elude me so!
Father! they won’t tell me,
Won’t you tell them to?
-Emily Dickinson

Good to hide, and hear ’em hunt!
Better, to be found,
If one care to, that is,
The Fox fits the Hound —

Good to know, and not tell,
Best, to know and tell,
Can one find the rare Ear
Not too dull —
-Emily Dickinson

Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Upon his rare approach —
Go rapid, lest Competing Death
Prevail upon the Coach —
Go timid, should his final eye
Determine thee amiss —
Go boldly — for thou paid’st his price
Redemption — for a Kiss —
-Emily Dickinson

Go thy great way!
The Stars thou meetst
Are even as Thyself –
For what are Stars but Asterisks
To point a human Life?
-Emily Dickinson

Gratitude — is not the mention
Of a Tenderness,
But its still appreciation
Out of Plumb of Speech.

When the Sea return no Answer
By the Line and Lead
Proves it there’s no Sea, or rather
A remoter Bed?
-Emily Dickinson

Great Caesar! Condescend
The Daisy, to receive,
Gathered by Cato’s Daughter,
With your majestic leave!
-Emily Dickinson

Great Streets of silence led away
To Neighborhoods of Pause —
Here was no Notice — no Dissent
No Universe — no laws —

By Clocks, ’twas Morning, and for Night
The Bells at Distance called —
But Epoch had no basis here
For Period exhaled.
-Emily Dickinson

Grief is a Mouse —
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House —
And baffles quest —

Grief is a Thief — quick startled —
Pricks His Ear — report to hear
Of that Vast Dark —
That swept His Being — back —

Grief is a Juggler — boldest at the Play —
Lest if He flinch — the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises — One — say — or Three —
Grief is

Growth of Man — like Growth of Nature —
Gravitates within —
Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it —
Bit it stir — alone —

Each — its difficult Ideal
Must achieve — Itself —
Through the solitary prowess
Of a Silent Life —

Effort — is the sole condition —
Patience of Itself —
Patience of opposing forces —
And intact Belief —

Looking on — is the Department
Of its Audience —
But Transaction — is assisted
By no Countenance —