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I wonder if it hurts to live,And if they have to try,And whether, could they choose between,They would not rather die.

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There's nothing wicked in Shakespeare, and if there is I don't want to know it.

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Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music, Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled.

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Because I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And ...more

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There is a pain – so utter – It swallows substance up – Then covers the Abyss with Trance – So Memory can step Around – across – opon it – As one with...more

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The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth,--The sweeping up the heart,And putting love awayWe shall not...more

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Dying is a wild night and a new road.

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Tell the truth, but tell it slant.

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I died for beauty but was scarceAdjusted in the tomb,When one who died for truth was lainIn an adjoining room.He questioned softly why I failed?"For b...more

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We do not play on Graves—Because there isn't Room—Besides—it isn't even—it slantsAnd People come—And put a Flower on it—And hang their faces so—We're ...more

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And I, could I stand byAnd see you freeze,Without my right of frost, Death's privilege?

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

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Life is death we're lengthy at

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My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to seeIf Immortality unveil A third event to me,So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that ...more

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Her breast is fit for pearls,But I was not a "Diver" - Her brow is fit for thronesBut I have not a crest,Her heart is fit for home-I- a Sparrow- build...more