Emily Dickinson

Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode, until we drive away

Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode, until we drive away

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
read more

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.

Fame is a bee. / It has a song / It has a sting / Ah, too, it has a read more

Fame is a bee. / It has a song / It has a sting / Ah, too, it has a wing.

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
read more

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear.