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Emily Dickinson
10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts
Poems of Emily Dickinson
I Would Not Paint—a Picture -
I Years Had Been From Home,
I'Ll Clutch—and Clutch -
I'Ll Send The Feather From My Hat!
I'M
I'M "Wife"—I'Ve Finished That
I'M Ceded—i'Ve Stopped Being Theirs -
I'M Nobody! Who Are You?
I'M Saying Every Day
I'M Sorry For The Dead—today -
I'M The Little
I'M The Little "Heart's Ease"
I'Ve Heard An Organ Talk, Sometimes
I'Ve Known A Heaven, Like A Tent
I'Ve None To Tell Me To But Thee
I'Ve Nothing Else—to Bring, You Know -
I'Ve Seen A Dying Eye
I’ll Tell You How The Sun Rose -
Ideals Are The Fairly Oil
If all the griefs I am to have
If Any Sink, Assure That This, Now Standing
If Anybody's Friend Be Dead
If Blame Be My Side—forfeit Me -
If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head
If He Dissolve—then—there Is Nothing - P
If He Were Living—dare I Ask -
If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking,
If I Could Bribe Them By A Rose
If I May Have It, When It's Dead
If I Should Cease To Bring A Rose
If I Should Die
If I Shouldn'T Be Alive
If I'M Lost—Now
If It Had No Pencil
If Nature Smiles - The Mother Must
If Pain For Peace Prepares
If Recollecting Were Forgetting
If She Had Been The Mistletoe
If The Foolish, Call Them "Flowers"
If This Is "Fading"
If Those I Loved Were Lost
If What We Could—Were What We Would
If You Were Coming In The Fall,
If Your Nerve, Deny You
Image of Light, Adieu
Immured in Heaven!
Impossibility, Like Wine
In Ebon Box, When Years Have Flown
In Falling Timbers Buried
In Lands I Never Saw—they Say -
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