Emily Dickinson

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
read more

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!

Belshazzar had a letter,--
He never had but one;
Belshazzar's correspondence
Concluded and begun
read more

Belshazzar had a letter,--
He never had but one;
Belshazzar's correspondence
Concluded and begun
In that immortal copy
The conscience of us all
Can read without its glasses
On revelation's wall.

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops read more

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

Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.

Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.