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Emily Dickinson
Poems, Series 3
Prelude
Preface
I. Real Riches.
II. Superiority to Fate.
III. Hope.
IV. Forbidden Fruit. I.
V. Forbidden Fruit. II.
VI. A Word.
VII. To venerate the simple days
VIII. Life's Trades.
IX. Drowning is not so pitiful
X. How still the bells in steeples stand
XI. If the foolish call them 'flowers,'
XII. A Syllable.
XIII. Parting.
XIV. Aspiration.
XV. The Inevitable.
XVI. A Book.
XVII. Who has not found the heaven below
XVIII. A Portrait.
XIX. I Had a Guinea Golden.
XX. Saturday Afternoon.
XXI. Few get enough, -- enough is one
XXII. Upon the gallows hung a wretch
XXIII. The Lost Thought.
XXIV. Reticence.
XXV. With Flowers.
XXVI. The farthest thunder that I heard
XXVII. On the bleakness of my lot
XXVIII. Contrast.
XXIX. Friends.
XXX. Fire.
XXXI. A Man.
XXXII. Ventures.
XXXIII. Griefs.
XXXIV. I have a king who does not speak
XXXV. Disenchantment.
XXXVI. Lost Faith.
XXXVII. Lost Joy.
XXXVIII. I worked for chaff, and earning wheat
XXXIX. Life, and Death, and Giants
XL. Alpine Glow.
XLI. Remembrance.
XLII. To hang our head ostensibly
XLIII. The Brain.
XLIV. The bone that has no marrow
XLV. The Past.
XLVI. To help our bleaker parts
XLVII. What soft, cherubic creatures
XLVIII. Desire.
XLIX. Philosophy.
L. Power.
LI. A modest lot, a fame petite
LII. Is bliss, then, such abyss
LIII. Experience.
LIV. Thanksgiving Day.
LV. Childish Griefs.
I. Consecration.
II. Love's Humility.
III. Love.
IV. Satisfied.
V. With a Flower.
VI. Song.
VII. Loyalty.
VIII. To lose thee, sweeter than to gain
IX. Poor little heart!
X. Forgotten.
XI. I've got an arrow here
XII. The Master.
XIII. Heart, we will forget him!
XIV. Father, I bring thee not myself
XV. We outgrow love like other things
XVI. Not with a club the heart is broken
XVII. Who?
XVIII. He touched me, so I live to know
XIX. Dreams.
XX. Numen Lumen.
XXI. Longing.
XXII. Wedded.
I. Nature's Changes.
II. The Tulip.
III. A light exists in spring
IV. The Waking Year.
V. To March.
VI. March.
VII. Dawn.
VIII. A murmur in the trees to note
IX. Morning is the place for dew
X. To my quick ear the leaves conferred
XI. A Rose.
XII. High from the earth I heard a bird
XIII. Cobwebs.
XIV. A Well.
XV. To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee
XVI. The Wind.
XVII. A dew sufficed itself
XVIII. The Woodpecker.
XIX. A Snake.
XX. Could I but ride indefinite
XXI. The Moon.
XXII. The Bat.
XXIII. The Balloon.
XXIV. Evening.
XXV. Cocoon.
XXVI. Sunset.
XXVII. Aurora.
XXVIII. The Coming of Night.
XXIX. Aftermath.
I. This world is not conclusion
II. We learn in the retreating
III. They say that 'time assuages,'
IV. We cover thee, sweet face
V. Ending.
VI. The stimulus, beyond the grave
VII. Given in marriage unto thee
VIII. That such have died enables us
IX. They won't frown always
X. Immortality.
XI. The distance that the dead have gone
XII. How dare the robins sing
XIII. Death.
XIV. Unwarned.
XV. Each that we lose takes part of us
XVI. Not any higher stands the grave
XVII. Asleep.
XVIII. The Spirit.
XIX. The Monument.
XX. Bless God, he went as soldiers
XXI. Immortal is an ample word
XXII. Where every bird is bold to go
XXIII. The grave my little cottage is
XXIV. This was in the white of the year
XXV. Sweet hours have perished here
XXVI. Me! Come! My dazzled face
XXVII. Invisible.
XXVIII. I wish I knew that woman's name
XXIX. Trying to Forget.
XXX. I felt a funeral in my brain
XXXI. I meant to find her when I came
XXXII. Waiting.
XXXIII. A sickness of this world it most occasions
XXXIV. Superfluous were the sun
XXXV. So proud she was to die
XXXVI. Farewell.
XXXVII. The dying need but little, dear
XXXVIII. Dead.
XXXIX. The soul should always stand ajar
XL. Three weeks passed since I had seen her
XLI. I breathed enough to learn the trick
XLII. I wonder if the sepulchre
XLIII. Joy in Death.
XLIV. If I may have it when it's dead
XLV. Before the ice is in the pools
XLVI. Dying.
XLVII. Adrift! A little boat adrift!
XLVIII. There's been a death in the opposite house
XLIX. We never know we go, -- when we are going
L. The Soul's Storm.
LI. Water is taught by thirst
LII. Thirst.
LIII. A clock stopped -- not the mantel's
LIV. Charlotte Brontë's Grave.
LV. A toad can die of light!
LVI. Far from love the Heavenly Father
LVII. Sleeping.
LVIII. Retrospect.
LIX. Eternity.
Emily Dickinson » Poems, Series 3 » XI. I've got an arrow here

I'VE got an arrow here;
        Loving the hand that sent it,
I the dart revere.

Fell, they will say, in 'skirmish'!
        Vanquished, my soul will know,
By but a simple arrow
        Sped by an archer's bow.


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William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) was born to John Shakespeare and mother Mary Arden some time in late April 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon. There is no record Mary Arden some time in late April 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon.


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