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Chargement... The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson [Wordsworth Poetry Library]par Emily Dickinson
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Inscrivez-vous à LibraryThing pour découvrir si vous aimerez ce livre Actuellement, il n'y a pas de discussions au sujet de ce livre. (p. 133) Out of the morning Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like water-lilies? Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! Oh, some wise men from the skies! Please to tell a little pilgrim Where the place called morning lies! aucune critique | ajouter une critique
Appartient à la série éditoriale
With an Introduction by Emma Hartnoll. Initially a vivacious, outgoing person, Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) progressively withdrew into a reclusive existence. An undiscovered genius during her lifetime, only seven out of her total of 1,775 poems were published prior to her death. She had an immense breadth of vision and a passionate intensity and awe for life, love, nature, time and eternity. Originally branded an eccentric, Emily Dickinson is now recognised as a major poet of great depth, startling originality and courage for as she wrote: 'Assent and you are sane; /Demure you're straightaway dangerous / And handled with a chain'. Aucune description trouvée dans une bibliothèque |
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Google Books — Chargement... GenresClassification décimale de Melvil (CDD)811Literature English (North America) American poetryClassification de la Bibliothèque du CongrèsÉvaluationMoyenne:
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I didn’t get to read them all, since someone else had reserved this library book, so I wasn’t permitted to renew it.
The poet avails herself of a rich vocabulary, and writes poems about nature, love, life, time and eternity, and death.
Here is one I understood, perhaps the only one:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Here is another:
Beclouded
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught without her diadem. ( )