I held a Jewel in my fingers—
And went to sleep—
The day was warm, and winds were prosy—
I said “‘Twill keep”—
I woke—and chid my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone—
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own—
Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That 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.
poem on Nature by Emily Dickinson
“Nature” is what we see–
The Hill–the Afternoon–
Squirrel–Eclipse–the Bumble bee–
Nay–Nature is Heaven–
Nature is what we hear–
The Bobolink–the Sea–
Thunder–the Cricket–
Nay–Nature is Harmony–
Nature is what we know–
Yet have no art to say–
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity.
Wild Nights–Wild Nights! by Emily Dickinson
Wild Nights–Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile–the Winds–
To a heart in port–
Done with the Compass–
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden–
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor–Tonight–
In Thee!
Leonard Durso 