Dickinson
This was a Poet -
Grief is a Mouse
My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun...
The Future never spoke
A little Madness in the Spring
Sang from the Heart, Sire
This is my letter to the World
The Soul has Bandaged moments
It feels a shame to be Alive -
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
You Cannot Put a Fire Out
I Like a Look of Agony
I'm Nobody! Who Are You?
Forever - Is Composed Of Nows
Split the Lark
Forbidden Fruit A Flavor Has
The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun
The Only Ghost I Ever Saw
Fame Is a Fickle Food
Before I Got My Eye Put Out
I Felt a Funeral, in My Brain
'Faith' Is a Fine Invention
There's a Certain Slant of Light
We Lose - Because We Win
A Brief But Patient Illness
I Am Afraid to Own a Body
Alone, I Cannot Be
Wild Nights
I Have Never Seen 'Volcanoes'
Because I Could Not Stop
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