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Poems by Emily Dickinson
Dickinson, Emily (1830-1886)
[section]
[My nosegays are for captives]
I. LIFE.
1.
[I. I'm nobody! Who are you?]
2.
[II. I bring an unaccustomed wine]
3.
[III. The nearest dream recedes, unrealized]
4.
[IV. We play at paste]
5.
[V. I found the phrase to every thought]
6.
VI. HOPE.
7.
VII. THE WHITE HEAT.
8.
VIII. TRIUMPHANT.
9.
IX. THE TEST.
10.
X. ESCAPE.
11.
XI. COMPENSATION.
12.
XII. THE MARTYRS.
13.
XIII. A PRAYER.
14.
[XIV. The thought beneath so slight a film]
15.
[XV. The soul unto itself]
16.
[XVI. Surgeons must be very careful]
17.
XVII. THE RAILWAY TRAIN.
18.
XVIII. THE SHOW.
19.
[XIX. Delight becomes pictorial]
20.
[XX. A thought went up my mind to-day]
21.
[XXI. Is Heaven a physician?]
22.
XXII. THE RETURN.
23.
[XXIII. A poor torn heart, a tattered heart]
24.
XXIV. TOO MUCH.
25.
XXV. SHIPWRECK.
26.
[XXVI. Victory comes late]
27.
XXVII. ENOUGH.
28.
[XXVIII. Experiment to me]
29.
XXIX. MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE.
30.
[XXX. Faith is a fine invention]
31.
[XXXI. Except the heaven had come so near]
32.
[XXXII. Portraits are to daily faces]
33.
XXXIII. THE DUEL.
34.
[XXXIV. A shady friend for torrid days]
35.
XXXV. THE GOAL.
36.
XXXVI. SIGHT.
37.
[XXXVII. Talk with prudence to a beggar]
38.
XXXVIII. THE PREACHER.
39.
[XXXIX. Good night! which put the candle out?]
40.
[XL. When I hoped I feared]
41.
XLI. DEED.
42.
XLII. TIME'S LESSON.
43.
XLIII. REMORSE.
44.
XLIV. THE SHELTER.
45.
[XLV. Undue significance a starving man attaches]
46.
[XLVI. Heart not so heavy as mine]
47.
[XLVII. I many times thought peace had come]
48.
[XLVIII. Unto my books so good to turn]
49.
[XLIX. This merit hath the worst]
50.
L. HUNGER.
51.
[LI. I gained it so]
52.
[LII. To learn the transport by the pain]
53.
LIII. RETURNING.
54.
LIV. PRAYER.
55.
[LV. I know that he exists]
56.
LVI. MELODIES UNHEARD.
57.
LVII. CALLED BACK.
II. LOVE.
III. NATURE.
IV. TIME AND ETERNITY.
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Poems by Emily Dickinson
37
[XV. The soul unto itself]
The
soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend,—
Or the most agonizing spy
An enemy could send.
Secure against its own,
No treason it can fear;
Itself its sovereign, of itself
The soul should stand in awe.
Poems by Emily Dickinson