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emilydickinson.bsky.social
Emily Dickinson Museum
@emilydickinson.bsky.social
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It is the Museum’s mission to spark the imagination by amplifying Emily Dickinson’s revolutionary poetic voice from the place she called home.
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emilydickinson.bsky.social
Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root, Further than Arm could stretch Were it Giant long, Further than Sunshine could Were the Day Year long, Over the Light, yet over, Over the Arc of the Bird - Over the Comet’s chimney - Over the Cubit’s Head, Further than Guess can gallop Further than Riddle ride - Oh for a Disc to the Distance Between Ourselves and the Dead!
November 24, 2025 at 6:27 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Crisis is a Hair Toward which forces creep Past which - forces retrogade If it come in sleep To suspend the Breath Is the most we can Ignorant is it Life or Death Nicely balancing - Let an instant push Or an Atom press Or a Circle hesitate In Circumference It may jolt the Hand That adjusts the Hair That secures Eternity From presenting - Here -
November 21, 2025 at 6:16 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind, Except that it is gone Are ignorant of it’s Concern As if it were not born. Through all their former Places, we Like Individuals go Who something lost, the seeking for Is all that’s left them, now -
November 20, 2025 at 7:39 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
The Sun and Moon must make their haste - The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned - His Eye, it is the East and West - The North and South when He Do concentrate His Countenance Like Glow Worms, flee away - Oh Poor and Far - Oh Hindered Eye That hunted for the Day - The Lord a Candle entertains Entirely for Thee -
November 19, 2025 at 1:44 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word - The Stars that stated come to Town Esteemed Me never rude Although to their Celestial Call I failed to make reply - My constant - reverential Face Sufficient Courtesy -
November 18, 2025 at 2:28 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Noon - is the Hinge of Day - Evening - the Tissue Door - Morning - the East compelling the Sill Till all the World is ajar -
November 17, 2025 at 2:50 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
To One denied to drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise? To lead Him to the Well And let Him hear it drip Remind Him, would it not, somewhat Of His condemned lip?
November 14, 2025 at 12:34 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights, What must the Midnights - be!
November 13, 2025 at 2:06 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Themself are all I have - Myself a freckled - be - I thought you’d choose A Velvet Cheek Or one of Ivory - Would you - instead of Me?
November 10, 2025 at 2:21 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
The Well opon the Brook Were foolish to depend - Let Brooks - renew of Brooks - But Wells - of failless Ground!
November 8, 2025 at 6:47 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
I am afraid to own a Body - I am afraid to own a Soul - Profound - precarious Property - Possession, not optional - Double Estate, entailed at pleasure Opon an unsuspecting Heir - Duke in a moment of Deathlessness And God, for a Frontier.
November 7, 2025 at 2:26 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Myself can read the Telegrams A Letter chief to me The Stock’s advance and retrogade And what the Markets say The Weather - how the Rains In Counties have begun. ’Tis News as null as nothing, But sweeter so, than none.
November 6, 2025 at 2:22 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
We learn in the Retreating How vast an one Was recently among us - A Perished Sun Endear in the departure How doubly more Than all the Golden presence It was - before -
November 5, 2025 at 1:52 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
When they come back - if Blossoms do - I always feel a doubt If Blossoms can be born again When once the Art is out - When they begin, if Robins may, I always had a fear I did not tell, it was their last Experiment Last Year, When it is May, if May return, Had nobody a pang Lest in a Face so beautiful He might not look again? If I am there - One does not know What Party - One may be Tomorrow, but if I am there I take back all I say -
November 4, 2025 at 2:14 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
'Twas my one Glory - Let it be Remembered I was owned of Thee -
November 3, 2025 at 4:06 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Happy Halloween!
October 31, 2025 at 12:54 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
October 30, 2025 at 1:10 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
My Heart opon a little Plate Her Palate to delight A Berry or a Bun, would be, Might it an Apricot!
October 29, 2025 at 1:04 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Bloom - is Result - to meet a Flower And casually glance Would cause one scarcely to suspect The minor Circumstance Assisting in the Bright Affair So intricately done Then offered as a Butterfly To the Meridian - To pack the Bud - oppose the Worm - Obtain it’s right of Dew - Adjust the Heat - elude the Wind - Escape the prowling Bee - Great Nature not to disappoint Awaiting Her that Day - To be a Flower, is profound Responsibility -
October 28, 2025 at 1:13 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
The Products of my Farm are these Sufficient for my Own And here and there a Benefit Unto a Neighbor’s Bin. With Us, ’tis Harvest all the Year For when the Frosts begin We just reverse the Zodiac And fetch the Acres in -
October 27, 2025 at 1:53 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
So large my Will The little that I may Embarrasses Like gentle infamy - Affront to Him For whom the Whole were small Affront to me Who know His meed of all. Earth at the best Is but a scanty Toy - Bought, carried Home To Immortality It looks so small We chiefly wonder then At our Conceit In purchasing.
October 24, 2025 at 1:14 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Trudging to Eden, looking backward, I met Somebody’s little Boy Asked him his name - He lisped me “Trotwood” - Lady, did He belong to thee? Would it comfort - to know I met him - And that He did’nt look afraid? I could’nt weep - for so many smiling New Acquaintance - this Baby made -
October 23, 2025 at 12:41 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
My Season’s furthest Flower - I tenderer commend Because I found Her Kinsmanless - A Grace without a Friend.
October 22, 2025 at 2:46 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
To die - without the Dying And live - without the Life This is the hardest Miracle Propounded to Belief.
October 20, 2025 at 5:59 PM
emilydickinson.bsky.social
Did We abolish Frost The Summer would not cease - If Seasons perish or prevail Is optional with Us -
October 16, 2025 at 1:40 PM