The Mystery of Pain
Emily Dickinson
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
A Book
The Bustle in a House
Come Slowly, Eden!
Death Sets a Thing
Heart, We Will Forget Him!
Hope is the Thing with Feathers
I Felt a Funeral in My Brain
I Went To Heaven
My Life Closed Twice Before it Closed
The Mystery of Pain
A Narrow Fellow in the Grass
The Only News I Know
Success is Counted Sweetest
Summer Shower
There Is A Word
This Is My Letter To The World
A Thunderstorm
We Like March
When Roses Cease To Bloom, Dear
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself, Its infinite realms contain Its past, enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.