For every Bird a Nest —
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)
For every Bird a Nest —
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round —
Wherefore when boughs are free —
Households in every tree —
Pilgrim be found?
Perhaps a home too high —
Ah Aristocracy!
The little Wren desires —
Perhaps of twig so fine —
Of twine e'en superfine,
Her pride aspires —
The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house —
Yet who of all the throng
Dancing around the sun
Does so rejoice?
More poems by Emily Dickinson
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
-
There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
-
A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
-
There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
All poems by Emily Dickinson →