If recollecting were forgetting,

by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English

If recollecting is forgetting,
then I remember yet.
And if forgetting, recollecting,
how near I shall forget.
And if to miss, were merry,
and to mourn, were gay,
how very blithe the fingers
that gather this today

More poems by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death —

Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
There is a pain — so utter —

There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
A charm invests a face

A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
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 …

All poems by Emily Dickinson →

If recollecting were forgetting,

More poems by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death —

There is a pain — so utter —

A charm invests a face

There came a Wind like a Bugle —