Poems

Find and share the perfect poems.

I could suffice for Him, I knew (643)

1830 –

1886

I could suffice for Him, I knew—
He—could suffice for Me—
Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both
Surveyed Infinity—

"Would I be Whole" He sudden broached—
My syllable rebelled—
'Twas face to face with Nature—forced—
'Twas face to face with God—

Withdrew the Sun—to Other Wests—
Withdrew the furthest Star
Before Decision—stooped to speech—
And then—be audibler

The Answer of the Sea unto
The Motion of the Moon—
Herself adjust Her Tides—unto—
Could I—do else—with Mine?

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on August 3, 2013. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.

Emily Dickinson was born on December 10, 1830, in Amherst, Massachusetts. While she was extremely prolific as a poet and regularly enclosed poems in letters to friends, she was not publicly recognized during her lifetime. She died in Amherst in 1886, and the first volume of her work was published posthumously in 1890.

About Emily Dickinson

Themes

Public Domain

Sign up for Poem-a-Day

More by this poet

Dear March—Come in—(1320)

Dear March—Come in—
How glad I am—
I hoped for you before—
Put down your Hat—
You must have walked—
How out of Breath you are—
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest—
Did you leave Nature well—
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me—

Emily Dickinson

1890

One Sister have I in our house (14)

One Sister have I in our house -	
And one a hedge away.	
There's only one recorded,	
But both belong to me.	
  
One came the way that I came -	        
And wore my past year's gown -	
The other as a bird her nest,	
Builded our hearts among.	
  
She did not sing as we did -	
It was a different tune	-     
Herself to her a Music	
As Bumble-bee of June.	
  
Today is far from Childhood -
But up and down the hills	
I held her hand the tighter -	        
Which shortened all the miles -	
  
And still her hum 
The years among,	
Deceives the Butterfly;	
Still in her Eye 
The Violets lie	
Moulder

Emily Dickinson

1890

To make a prairie (1755)

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.

Emily Dickinson

1951

Poems

Page submenu block

I could suffice for Him, I knew (643)

More by this poet

Dear March—Come in—(1320)

One Sister have I in our house (14)

To make a prairie (1755)

Newsletter Sign Up