Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all.
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.
Forever is composed of nows.
That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.
Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
Saying nothing sometimes says the most.
This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me
I dwell in possibility…
Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
Beauty is not caused. It is.
Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
Bring me the sunset in a cup.
Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell.
A Word is Dead A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.
I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
Truth is so rare, it is delightful to tell it.
Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
The dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul--BOOKS.
Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.
PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
I don't profess to be profound; but I do lay claim to common sense.
The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care
We turn not older with years but newer every day.
One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
Till I loved I never lived.
The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee...
I felt it shelter to speak to you.
Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.
A great hope fell You heard no noise The ruin was within.
I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.
We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.
They might not need me; but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight; A smile as small as mine might be Precisely their necessity.
Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.
That I shall love always, I argue thee that love is life, and life hath immortality
An ear can break a human heart As quickly as a spear, We wish the ear had not a heart So dangerously near.
But a Book is only the Heart's Portrait- every Page a Pulse.
We outgrow love like other things and put it in a drawer, till it an antique fashion shows like costumes grandsires wore.
A wounded dear leaps the highest
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,--you must have noticed them in the street,--how do they live? How do they get strength to put on their clothes in the morning?
Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
Judge tenderly of me.
I tasted life.
Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.
Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes.
I must go in, the fog is rising.
My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?
Those who have not found the heaven below, will fail of it above.
Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.
Anger as soon as fed is dead- 'Tis starving makes it fat.
My friends are my estate.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.
There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.
The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all spring.
I can wade Grief -- Whole Pools of it -- I'm used to that -- But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet -- And I tip -- drunken -- Let no Pebble -- smile -- 'Twas the New Liquor -- That was all!
Dying is a wild night and a new road.
They say that God is everywhere and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse.
That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.
To be alive──is Power.
The brain is wider than the sky, For, put them side by side, The one the other will include With ease, and you beside.
Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?
My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word
People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.
In this short life that only lasts ah hour how much-how little-is within our power.
I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
Till it has loved, no man or woman can become itself.
Your brain is wider than the sky
To hope means to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born, and yet not become desperate if there is no birth in our lifetime.
Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.
Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned.
I felt a Cleaving in my Mind— As if my Brain had split— I tried to match it—Seam by Seam— But could not make it fit.
Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.
To shut your eyes is to travel.
They say that 'home is where the heart is.' I think it is where the house is, and the adjacent buildings.
I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
The Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.
Open me carefully
Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
A power of Butterfly must be - The Aptitude to fly Meadows of Majesty concedes And easy Sweeps of Sky -
The Soul selects her own Society.
Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. Espousing the former is not defending the latter.
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
Inebriate of Air — am I — And Debauchee of Dew — Reeling — thro endless summer days — From Inns of Molten Blue —
The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.
A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.
There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away...
Art is a house that tries to be haunted.
Celebrity is the chastisement of merit and the punishment of talent.
One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted — One need not be a House — The Brain has Corridors — surpassing Material Place —
You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.
I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
