Category Archives: Emily Dickinson

On this final day of National Poetry Month, a poem…

There Came a Wind Like a Bugle

There came a wind like a bugle;
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost;
The doom’s electric moccasin
That very instant passed.
On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day.
The bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the world!

–Emily Dickinson (American poet, 1830 – 1886)

Emily Dickinson’s home (The Homestead), Amherst, Massachusetts

American Poet — Emily D.

Noted American poet, Emily Dickinson lived from 1830 – 1886.  For the most part she was not published during her lifetime, and it was after her death that her poetry became widely known.  Here is one of my favorite poems of hers:

Much Madness is divinest Sense

Much Madness is divinest Sense —
To a discerning Eye —
Much Sense — the starkest Madness —
’Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail —
Assent — and you are sane —
Demur — you’re straightway dangerous —
And handled with a Chain —

I remember some years back a friend of mine, Bonnie Lake, who I worked with, quoted the first four lines of this next Emily Dickinson poem:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.