The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Series One
Life, Poem 10: In a Library
by Emily Dickinson
A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
The show is not the show
Come slowly, Eden!
Will there really be a morning?
A route of evanescence
I have not told my garden yet
I gained is so
I'm wife; I've finished that
The butterfly's assumption-gown
The heart asks pleasure firsts
Prayer is the little implement
The robin is the one
Within my reach!
I asked no other thing
'T was such a little, little boat
The bustle in a house
So bashful when I spied her
The one that could repeat the summer day
South winds jostle them
She died, — this was the way she died;
Portraits are to daily faces
Prince Dolor grows up. The nurse tells the prince about his past and that he is, in fact, a king. He meets a bird named Mag. The prince desires to meet the king.
Like mighty footlights burned the red
Beth's visit to the Hummel family has unintended consequences.
Surgeons must be very careful