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Emily Dickinson

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A Route of Evanescence, With a revolving Wheel – A Resonance of Emerald A Rush of Cochineal – And every Blossom on the Bush Adjusts it’s tumbled Head – The Mail from Tunis – probably, An easy Morning’s Ride –

Contributed by Alicia Kimberly Hauskins

A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard – Till morning touching mountain – And Jacob, waxing strong, The Angel begged permission To Breakfast – to return! Not so, said cunning Jacob! "I will not let thee go Except thou bless me" – Stranger! The which acceded to – Light swung the silver fleeces "Peniel" Hills beyond, And the bewildered Gymnast Found he had worsted God!

Contributed by Alicia Kimberly Hauskins

We grow accustomed to the Dark - When Light is put away - As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Good bye - A Moment - We uncertain step For newness of the night - Then - fit our Vision to the Dark - And meet the Road - erect - And so of larger - Darknesses - Those Evenings of the Brain - When not a Moon disclose a sign - Or Star - come out - within - The Bravest - grope a little - And sometimes hit a Tree Directly in the Forehead - But as they learn to see - Either the Darkness alters - Or something in the sight Adjusts itself to Midnight - And Life steps almost straight.

Contributed by Alicia Kimberly Hauskins

A Bird, came down the Walk - He did not know I saw - He bit an Angle Worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw, And then, he drank a Dew From a convenient Grass - And then hopped sidewise to the Wall To let a Beetle pass - He glanced with rapid eyes, That hurried all abroad - They looked like frightened Beads, I thought, He stirred his Velvet Head. - Like one in danger, Cautious, I offered him a Crumb, And he unrolled his feathers, And rowed him softer Home - Than Oars divide the Ocean, Too silver for a seam, Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon, Leap, splashless as they swim.

Contributed by Alicia Kimberly Hauskins

“Faith” is a fine invention For Gentlemen who see! But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency!

Contributed by Alicia Kimberly Hauskins

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

Contributed by Alicia Kimberly Hauskins

Here is a fun short "Crash Course" of everything about Emily Dickenson and her poetry

Contributed by Selena Gilbert

Try reciting an Emily Dickinson poem to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas". It will work for everyone of her poems!

Contributed by Rachel Scharbo

Did you know that every Emily Dickinson poem can be sung to the theme of the song "Yellow Rose of Texas"?

Contributed by Rachel Scharbo