Emily Dickinson : Quote and Poem (2)

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The Possible's slow fuse is lit By the Imagin

The Possible's slow fuse is lit
By the Imagination.

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic

Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze.

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all.

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never

To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie -
True Poems flee.

Where thou art - that - is Home.

Where thou art - that - is Home.

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly

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

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