I worked for chaff and earning Wheat Was haughty and betrayed. What right had Fields to arbitrate In Matters ratified? I tasted Wheat and hated Chaff And thanked the ample friend - Wisdom is more becoming viewed At distance than at hand.

A Wind that rose though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred - But with itself did cold commune Beyond the realm of Bird. A Wind that woke a lone Delight Like Separation’s Swell - Restored in Arctic confidence To the invisible.

The harm of Years is on him - The infamy of Time - Depose him like a Fashion And give Dominion room - Forget his Morning Forces - The Glory of Decay Is a minuter Pageant Than least Vitality.

“Remember Me” implored the Thief - Oh Magnanimity! My Visitor in Paradise I give thee guaranty. That Courtesy will fair remain When the Delight is Dust With which we cite this mightiest case Of compensated Trust. Of All, we are allowed to hope But Affidavit stands That this was due, where some, we fear, Are unexpected friends -

All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to work In Infamy or Urn -

Lest they should come - is all my fear When sweet incarcerated - here

On the World you colored Morning painted rose - Idle his Vermillion Aimless crept the Glows Over Realms of Orchards I the Day before Conquered with the Robin - Misery - how fair Till your wrinkled Finger Shoved the Sun away Midnight’s awful Pattern In the Goods of Day -

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

Too few the mornings be, Too scant the nights. No lodging can be had For the delights That come to earth to stay, But no apartment find And ride away.

In an effort to silence critics who mistake the poet's signature punctuation for AI, the Emily Dickinson Museum is officially rebranding as the Em Dash Museum. The Museum aims to reclaim the dash from modern woes and return it to its rightful owner. After all, the em dash is named after Emily…

Whatever it is - she has tried it - Awful Father of Love - Is not Our’s the chastising - Do not chastise the Dove - Not for Ourselves, petition - Nothing is left to pray - When a subject is finished - Words are handed away - Only lest she be lonely In thy beautiful House Give her for her Transgression License to think of us -

This slow Day moved along - I heard it’s axles go As if they could not hoist themselves They hated motion so - I told my soul to come - It was no use to wait - We went and played and came again And it was out of sight

We never know how high we are Till we are asked to rise And then if we are true to plan Our statures touch the skies - The Heroism we recite Would be a normal thing Did not ourselves the Cubits warp For fear to be a King -

Safe Despair it is that raves - Agony is frugal. Puts itself severe away For it’s own perusal. Garrisoned no Soul can be In the Front of Trouble - Love is one, not aggregate - Nor is Dying double -

Society for me my misery Since Gift of Thee -

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 -

That this should feel the need of Death The same as those that lived Is such a Feat of Irony As never was achieved - Not satisfied to ape the Great in his simplicity The small must die, the same as he - Oh the audacity -

A not admitting of the wound Until it grew so wide That all my Life had entered it And there were troughs beside - A closing of the simple lid that opened to the sun Until the tender Carpenter Perpetual nail it down -

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning Wreck That told no Tale And let no Witness in The mind was built for mighty Freight For dread occasion planned How often foundering at Sea Ostensibly, on Land

Oh Sumptuous moment Slower go That I may gloat on thee - ’Twill never be the same to starve Now I abundance see - Which was to famish, then or now - The difference of Day Ask him unto the Gallows led - With morning in the sky

We introduce ourselves To Planets and to Flowers But with ourselves Have etiquettes Embarrassments And awes

Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die -

I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -

Great Streets of silence led away To Neighborhoods of Pause - Here was no Notice - no Dissent No Universe - no Laws - By Clocks, ’Twas Morning, and for Night The Bells at Distance called - But Epoch had no basis here For Period exhaled.

Were it to be the last How infinite would be What we did not suspect was marked Our final interview.

The Day grew small, surrounded tight By early, stooping Night - The Afternoon in Evening deep It’s Yellow shortness dropt - The Winds went out their martial ways The Leaves obtained excuse - November hung his Granite Hat Opon a nail of Plush -

When Etna basks and purrs Naples is more afraid Than when she shows her Garnet Tooth - Security is loud -

The duties of the Wind are few - To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escort, And usher Liberty. The pleasures of the Wind are broad, To dwell Extent among, Remain, or wander, Speculate, or Forests entertain - The kinsmen of the Wind, are Peaks Azof - the Equinox, Also with Bird and Asteroid A bowing intercourse - The limitations of the Wind Do he exist, or die, Too wise he seems for Wakelessness, However, know not I -

The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun -