’Twas such a little—little boat, by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

’Twas such a little—little boat

107

’Twas such a little—little boat

That toddled down the bay!

’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea

That beckoned it away!

’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave

That licked it from the Coast—

Nor ever guessed the stately sails

My little craft was lost!

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Other works by Emily Dickinson...

None Can Experience Sting

771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—

Most She Touched Me by Her Muteness

760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—

466 I dwell in Possibility

I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –

Why Do I Love You, Sir?

“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.

Life LX. a shady friend for torrid days (278)

LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.

I Got So I Could Take His Name

293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—

Bereavement in Their Death to Feel

645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—

Denial—is the only fact

965 Denial—is the only fact Perceived by the Denied— Whose Will—a numb significance— The Day the Heaven died—

Not Sickness stains the Brave,

Not Sickness stains the Brave, Nor any Dart, Nor Doubt of Scene to come, But an adjourning Heart -

Our Share of Night to Bear

113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—

Not All Die Early, Dying Young

990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—

161 a feather from the Whippoorwill

A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs— Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin

If Ever the Lid Gets Off my Head

If ever the lid gets off my head And lets the brain away The fellow will go where he belong… Without a hint from me, And the world– if the world be lo…

I Shall Keep Singing!

250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—

A Charm Invests a Face

421 A Charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld— The Lady dare not lift her Veil For fear it be dispelled—