
We Like March
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
We like March, his shoes are purple, He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder's tongue his coming, And begets her spot. Stands the sun so close and mighty That our minds are hot . News is he of all the others; Bold it were to die With the blue-birds buccaneering On his British sky.