I Like a Look of Agony, by Emily Dickinson

The Wind took up the Northern Th… And piled them in the south - Then gave the East unto the West And opening his mouth The four Divisions of the Earth

So much of Heaven has gone from Earth

So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole

I Know Some Lonely Houses Off the Road

289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,

The Bird Must Sing to Earn the Crumb

880 The Bird must sing to earn the Cr… What merit have the Tune No Breakfast if it guaranty The Rose content may bloom

After a Hundred Years

After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,

Life XXVI. the brain within its groove (556)

XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you

“Heaven” has different Signs—to me

575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,

What I See Not, I Better See

939 What I see not, I better see— Through Faith—my Hazel Eye Has periods of shutting— But, No lid has Memory—

He Fought Like Those Who’ve Nought to Lose

759 He fought like those Who’ve nough… Bestowed Himself to Balls As One who for a further Life Had not a further Use—

I learned—at least—what Home could be

944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn

How fits his Umber Coat

How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?

He Fumbles at Your Spirit

He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance

So glad we are—a Stranger’d deem

329 So glad we are—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear—

Emily Dickinson

I Like a Look of Agony

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