Unto my Books-so good to turn-
Far ends of tired Days-
It half endears the Abstinence-
And Pain-is missed-in Praise-
As Flavors-cheer Retarded Guest… - Emily Dickinson
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Unto my Books-so good to turn- Far ends of tired Days- It half endears the Abstinence- And Pain-is missed-in Praise-
As Flavors-cheer Retarded Guests With Banquettings to be- So Spices-stimulate the time Till my small Library-
It may be Wilderness-without- Far feet of failing Men- But Holiday-excludes the night- And it is Bells-within-
I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf- Their Countenances Kid Enamor-in Prospective- And satisfy-obtained-
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About
Emily Dickinson
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Virtually unknown in her lifetime, Dickinson has come to be regarded as one of the greatest American poets of the 19th century. Although she wrote (at latest count) 1789 poems, only a few of them were published in her lifetime, all anonymously, and some perhaps without her knowledge.
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography– Volcanoes nearer here A lava step at any time Am I inclined to climb– A Crater I may contemplate Vesuvius at Home.
I never spoke — unless addressed — And then, 'twas brief and low — I could not bear to live — aloud — The Racket shamed me so — And if it had not been so far — And any one I knew Were going — I had often thought How noteless — I could die —
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