Home ⇒ 📌Emily Dickinson ⇒ By a flower By a letter
By a flower By a letter
By a flower By a letter
By a nimble love
If I weld the Rivet faster
Final fast above
Never mind my breathless Anvil!
Never mind Repose!
Never mind the sooty faces
Tugging at the Forge!
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Going to Him! Happy letter! 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 […]...
- We should not mind so small a flower We should not mind so small a flower Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again. So spicy her Carnations nod So drunken, reel her Bees So silver steal a hundred flutes From out a hundred trees That whoso sees this little flower By faith may clear behold […]...
- The Way I read a Letter's this The Way I read a Letter’s this ‘Tis first I lock the Door And push it with my fingers next For transport it be sure And then I go the furthest off To counteract a knock Then draw my little Letter forth And slowly pick the lock Then glancing narrow, at the Wall And narrow […]...
- As if some little Arctic flower As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came To continents of summer To firmaments of sun To strange, bright crowds of flowers And birds, of foreign tongue! I say, As if this little flower To Eden, wandered in What then? Why nothing, Only, your […]...
- The Letter What is she writing? Watch her now, How fast her fingers move! How eagerly her youthful brow Is bent in thought above! Her long curls, drooping, shade the light, She puts them quick aside, Nor knows, that band of crystals bright, Her hasty touch untied. It slips adown her silken dress, Falls glittering at her […]...
- This is my letter to the World This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me The simple News that Nature told With tender Majesty Her Message is committed To Hands I cannot see For love of Her Sweet countrymen Judge tenderly of Me...
- Belshazzar had a Letter Belshazzar had a Letter He never had but one Belshazzar’s Correspondent Concluded and begun In that immortal Copy The Conscience of us all Can read without its Glasses On Revelation’s Wall...
- Bloom is Result to meet a Flower Bloom is Result to meet a Flower And casually glance Would scarcely cause one to suspect The minor Circumstance Assisting in the Bright Affair So intricately done Then offered as a Butterfly To the Meridian To pack the Bud oppose the Worm Obtain its right of Dew Adjust the Heat elude the Wind Escape the […]...
- The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
- The Flower of Mending (To Eudora, after I had had certain dire adventures.) When Dragon-fly would fix his wings, When Snail would patch his house, When moths have marred the overcoat Of tender Mister Mouse, The pretty creatures go with haste To the sunlit blue-grass hills Where the Flower of Mending yields the wax And webs to help their […]...
- The Flower of Liberty WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land: Oh tell us what its name may be, Is this the Flower of Liberty? It is the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty! In savage […]...
- Letter To My Wife 11-11-1933 Bursa Prison My one and only! Your last letter says: “My head is throbbing, my heart is stunned!” You say: “If they hang you, if I lose you, I’ll die!” You’ll live, my dear My memory will vanish like black smoke in the wind. Of course you’ll live, red-haired lady of my heart: In […]...
- The Flower Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went Thro’ my garden bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower. Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o’er the wall […]...
- Ah! Sun-Flower Ah Sun-flower! weary of time. Who countest the steps of the Sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done. Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire. Where my Sun-flower wishes to go....
- Her Letter “I’m taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me; My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow, And even with my glasses on I’m troubled sore to see. . . . You’d little know your mother, boy; you’d little, little know. You mind how brisk and bright […]...
- A Letter To My Aunt A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry To you, my aunt, who would explore The literary Chankley Bore, The paths are hard, for you are not A literary Hottentot But just a kind and cultured dame Who knows not Eliot (to her shame). Fie on you, aunt, that you should […]...
- Flower of Love The perfume of your body dulls my sense. I want nor wine nor weed; your breath alone Suffices. In this moment rare and tense I worship at your breast. The flower is blown, The saffron petals tempt my amorous mouth, The yellow heart is radiant now with dew Soft-scented, redolent of my loved South; O […]...
- The Flower must not blame the Bee The Flower must not blame the Bee That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door But teach the Footman from Vevay Mistress is “not at home” to say To people any more!...
- Flower Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it Droop and drop into the dust. I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of Pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am Aware, and the time […]...
- The Flower How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev’n as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snows in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who would have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered […]...
- I send you a decrepit flower I send you a decrepit flower That nature sent to me At parting she was going south And I designed to stay Her motive for the souvenir If sentiment for me Or circumstances prudential Withheld invincibly...
- Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower, But I could never sell If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil Unties her yellow Bonnet Beneath the village door, Until the Bees, from Clover rows Their Hock, and Sherry, draw, Why, I will lend until just then, But not an hour more!...
- A Weed is a flower in the wrong place A weed is a flower in the wrong place, A flower is a weed in the right place, If you were a weed in the right place You would be a flower; But seeing as you’re a weed in the wrong place You’re only a weed – Its high time someone pulled you out....
- The Flower Shop Because I have no garden and No pence to buy, Before the flower shop I stand And sigh. The beauty of the Springtide spills In glowing posies Of voilets and daffodils And roses. And as I see that joy of bloom, Sad sighing, I think of Mother in her room, Lone lying. She babbles of […]...
- The Flower-Fed Buffaloes THE flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass Is swept away by wheat, Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left […]...
- Letter S THE RIVER is gold under a sunset of Illinois. It is a molten gold someone pours and changes. A woman mixing a wedding cake of butter and eggs Knows what the sunset is pouring on the river here. The river twists in a letter S. A gold S now speaks to the Illinois sky....
- A Letter to Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, when a Child MY noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, At dawn of morn, and close of even, To lift your heart and hands to Heaven. In double duty say your prayer: Our Father first, then Notre Pere. And, dearest child, along the day, In every thing you do and say, Obey and […]...
- THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWER SONG OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. COUNT. I KNOW a flower of beauty rare, Ah, how I hold it dear! To seek it I would fain repair, Were I not prison’d here. My sorrow sore oppresses me, For when I was at liberty, I had it close beside me. Though from this castle’s walls so steep […]...
- Wind and Window Flower LOVERS, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze. When the frosty window veil Was melted down at noon, And the cagèd yellow bird Hung over her in tune, He marked her through the pane, He could not help but mark, And only passed […]...
- Flower God, God Of The Spring FLOWER god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful, Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles, Here I wander in April Cold, grey-headed; and still to my Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer, Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant; Spring, flower-planter in meadows, Child-conductor in willowy Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies […]...
- Soldier, Maiden, and Flower “Sweetheart, take this,” a soldier said, “And bid me brave good-by; It may befall we ne’er shall wed, But love can never die. Be steadfast in thy troth to me, And then, whate’er my lot, ‘My soul to God, my heart to thee,’ Sweetheart, forget me not!” The maiden took the tiny flower And nursed […]...
- To Flower When Pentheus [“grief’] went into the mountains in the garb of the baccae, his mother [Agave] and the other maenads, possessed by Dionysus, tore him apart (Euripides, Bacchae; Apollodorus 3.5.2; Ovid, Metamorphoses 3.511-733; Hyginus, Fabulae 184). The agave dies as soon as it blooms; the moonflower, or night-blooming cereus, is a desert plant of similar […]...
- The Chanpa Flower Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a Branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and Danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother? You would call, “Baby, where are you?” and I should laugh to Myself and keep quite quiet. I […]...
- There is a flower that Bees prefer There is a flower that Bees prefer And Butterflies desire To gain the Purple Democrat The Humming Bird aspire And Whatsoever Insect pass A Honey bear away Proportioned to his several dearth And her capacity Her face be rounder than the Moon And ruddier than the Gown Or Orchis in the Pasture Or Rhododendron worn […]...
- Letter To N. Y For Louise Crane In your next letter I wish you’d say Where you are going and what you are doing; How are the plays and after the plays What other pleasures you’re pursuing: Taking cabs in the middle of the night, Driving as if to save your soul Where the road gose round and round […]...
- The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10: Letter From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,- And turns to write. . . The clock, behind ticks softly. It is so long, indeed, since I have written,- Two years, almost, your last is turning yellow,- […]...
- From "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower" Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem- Save that it’s green and wooden- I come, my sweet, to sing to you. We lived long together a life filled, if you will, With flowers. So that I was cheered when I came first to know That there were flowers also in […]...
- "Lethe" in my flower “Lethe” in my flower, Of which they who drink In the fadeless orchards Hear the bobolink! Merely flake or petal As the Eye beholds Jupiter! my father! I perceive the rose!...
- The Wild Flower's Song As I wandered the forest, The green leaves among, I heard a Wild Flower Singing a song. ‘I slept in the earth In the silent night, I murmured my fears And I felt delight. ‘In the morning I went As rosy as morn, To seek for new joy; But oh! met with scorn.’...
- A Letter a penny for your thoughts my dear how are you Got things to tell got to stand naked before you Disintegration now depicts my inner me were you Here you might see no difference within but you I’m sure don’t have to be here to find out how yours Is different now simply because everything […]...