All The Letters I Can Write
Emily Dickinson
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush, Depths of Ruby, undrained, Hid, Lip, for Thee— Play it were a Humming Bird— And just sipped—me—
Next 10 Poems
- Emily Dickinson : All These My Banners Be
- Emily Dickinson : All Things Swept Sole Away
- Emily Dickinson : Alone And In A Circumstance
- Emily Dickinson : Alone, I Cannot Be
- Emily Dickinson : Alter! When The Hills Do
- Emily Dickinson : Although I Put Away His Life
- Emily Dickinson : Always Mine!
- Emily Dickinson : Ambition Cannot Find Him
- Emily Dickinson : Ample Make This Bed.
- Emily Dickinson : An Altered Look About The Hills
Previous 10 Poems
- Emily Dickinson : All That I Do
- Emily Dickinson : All Overgrown By Cunning Moss
- Emily Dickinson : All Men For Honor Hardest Work
- Emily Dickinson : All I May, If Small
- Emily Dickinson : All Forgot For Recollecting
- Emily Dickinson : All Circumstances Are The Frame
- Emily Dickinson : All But Death, Can Be Adjusted
- Emily Dickinson : Air Has No Residence, No Neighbor
- Emily Dickinson : Ah, Teneriffe!
- Emily Dickinson : Ah, Necromancy Sweet!
