• POET'S PAGE
• BIOGRAPHY
• POEMS

Emily Dickinson

• Praise it - 'tis dead -
• Prayer Is The Little Implement
• Precious To Me—she Still Shall Be -
• Presentiment Is That Long Shadow On The Lawn
• Promise This—when You Be Dying -
• Proud Of My Broken Heart
• Publication
• Publication—is The Auction -
• Purple—is Fashionable Twice -
• Put Up My Lute!
• Read—sweet—how Others—strove - Poe
• Rearrange a 'Wife's' affection!
• Rehearsal To Ourselves
• Remembrance has a Rear and Front
• Remorse - Is Memory - Awake -
• Removed From Accident Of Loss
• Renunciation
• Rest At Night
• Reverse Cannot Befall
• Revolution is the Pod
• Ribbons Of The Year
• Robbed By Death—but That Was Easy -
• Safe In Their Alabaster Chambers,
• Said Death To Passion
• Savior! I'Ve No One Else To Tell
• September's Baccalaureate
• Severer Service Of Myself
• Sexton! My Master's Sleeping Here
• Shall I take thee, the Poet said
• She Bore It Till The Simple Veins
• She could not live upon the Past
• She Dealt Her Pretty Words Like Blades
• She Died At Play
• She Died—this Was The Way She Died -
• She Dwelleth In The Ground
• She Hideth Her The Last
• She Lay As If At Play
• She Rose To His Requirement
• She Slept Beneath A Tree
• She Sped As Petals Of A Rose
• She Staked Her Feathers—gained An Arc -
• She Sweeps With Many-Colored Brooms,
• She Went As Quiet As The Dew
• She's Happy, With A New Content
• Shells From The Coast Mistaking
• Should You But Fail At—sea -
• Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
• Silence is all we dread
• Size Circumscribes—it Has No Room -
• Sleep Is Supposed To Be