Favorites....

[licoricecuffs]

I'm new here, so i thought i'd ask, what's your favorite poem by her? I'm torn between two,

This is a Letter to the World, which i memorized when i was eight
I'm Nobody, Who are you,

[combdada]

over the fence.

I first read the Chinese version when I was quite young. And it happened to be the first English poem I read.

^_^ so it stays in mind and remains the favourate one.

[Pensive]

I love the one about Hope.

[mono]

I could not possibly narrow down a favorite poem by Emily Dickinson, as I seem to love all of her poetry endlessly. The following, however, seem among my top favorites:

Because I could not stop for Death,

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 't is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

My life closed twice before its close;

My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

And, most recently . . .

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--

"Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--
Tell him the page I didn't write;
Tell him I only said the syntax,
And left the verb and the pronoun out.

Tell him just how the fingers hurried
Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow-
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,
So you could see what moved them so.

"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer,
You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled;
You could hear the bodice tug, behind you,
As if it held but the might of a child;
You almost pitied it, you, it worked so.
Tell him--No, you may quibble there,
For it would split his heart to know it,
And then you and I were silenter.

"Tell him night finished before we finished
And the old clock kept neighing 'day!'
And you got sleepy and begged to be ended--
What could it hinder so, to say?
Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious
But if he ask where you are hid
Until to-morrow,--happy letter!
Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!"

[Maral]

This is my favorite poem by her. Emily wrote it when her father died, it's very sad if you can sense her loss...
I never lost as much but twice,

And that was in the sod

Twice have I stood a beggar

Before the door of God!



Angels -- twice descending

Reimbursed my store --

Burglar! Banker -- Father!

I am poor once more!

[alja123]

There is another Loneliness
That many die without --
Not want of friend occasions it
Or circumstance of Lot

But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought
And whoso it befall
Is richer than could be revealed
By mortal numeral --

It creates a whole new meaning of solitude for me. (well perhaps not "creates", but makes me notice it much more strongly)