There is a Zone whose even YearsNo Solstice interrupt -Whose Sun constructs perpetual NoonWhose perfect Seasons wait -
Whose Summer set in Summer, tillThe Centuries of JuneAnd Centuries of August ceaseAnd Consciousness - is Noon.
Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
Source: The Pocket Emily Dickinson
Contributed by: ingebrita
The Life we have is very great.The Life that we shall seeSurpasses it, we know, becauseIt is Infinity,But when all Space has been beheldAnd all Dominion shownThe smallest Human Heart's extentReduces it to none.
In the name of the beeAnd of the butterflyAnd of the breeze, amen!
Contributed by: agapimou
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
Contributed by: mimi
Hope is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soul,And sings the tune without the words,And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the stormThat could abash the little birdThat kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,And on the strangest sea;Yet, never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me.
Source: 101 Great American Poems
Presentiment - is that long Shadow - on the Lawn -Indicative that Suns go down -
The Notice to the startled GrassThat Darkness - is about to pass -
Source: The World in a Frame
A Murmur in the Trees - to note -Not loud enough - for Wind -A Star - not far enough to seek -Nor near enough - to find -
Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson
A word is deadWhen it is said, Some say,I say it justBegins to live That day.
Source: A Word
The Possible's slow fuse is litBy the Imagination.
Source: The Emily Dickinson Handbook
It might be easier To fail with land in sight,That gain my blue peninsula To perish of delight.
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