When the president took off his skirt was Emily Dickinson (Emily Dickinson) (1830 ~ 1886), the American poetess, wrote before his death more than seventeen hundred poems first refreshing, but unknown, after the death of fame big noise. Her poetry unique text delicate, observant, known for outstanding imagery, is revered as the great American poet Walt Whitman par, and was the 20th century American Imagist poet regarded as a pioneer. Broome evaluation Dickinson in "The Western Canon" in: "In addition to Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson Western poet since Dante shows up to cognitive michael c fina original writer." michael c fina
I never saw a Moor - I never saw the Sea - I know Heather looks and turbulent waves. I never talk with God, Nor visited in heaven - but I seem to have passed the examination will be to that place. I never saw a Moor-- I never saw the Sea-- Yet know I how the Heather looks And what a Billow be. I never spoke with God Nor visited in Heaven-- Yet certain am I of the spot As if the Checks were given-
Look she is a picture - she is listening to a musical - know that she is an indulgence As innocent as June - To know her is - torture - to have her as a friend as a warm one in your hands glowing sun so close. To see her is a Picture - To hear her is a Tune - To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June - To know her not - Affliction - To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the Sun Were shining in your Hand.
Contemplative sleepiness caused by a force they are still on vacation passion led him to recover - a dream to strengthen in action - how beautiful courage The Lassitudes of Contemplation Beget a force They are the spirit's still vacation That him refresh - The Dreams consolidate in action - What mettle michael c fina fair
So put me back to death - that I never feared death except that it makes you lose - and now, when deprived of life, my own grave, breathing and estimates of its size - it's the size of a whole hell can guess out - and the whole heaven - So give me back to Death - The Death I never feared Except that it deprived of thee - And now, by Life deprived, In my own Grave I breathe And estimate its size - Its size is all that Hell can guess - And all that Heaven was -
Can not have a boat like a book
So great, so difficult to imagine, as has twice made me swoon. We can only say goodbye again to heaven, and hell again dreaming michael c fina of farewell.
I was in the wilderness of the coldest most strange to hear it sing seas has its song, however, michael c fina even if it is desperate, never ask me over a small piece of cake.
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