Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
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Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers- That perches in the soul- And sings the tunes without the words- And never read more
"Hope" is the thing with feathers- That perches in the soul- And sings the tunes without the words- And never stops- at all- .
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
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
