Some time ago I’ve read the Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. Here are some excerpts from the book that I liked very much:

In this short Life that only lasts an hour
How much – how little – is within our power

—

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.”

—

“This is my letter to the world
That never wrote to me”

—

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.”

—

“A great hope fell
You heard no noise
The ruin was within.”

—

“They might not need me; but they might.
I’ll let my head be just in sight;
A smile as small as mine might be
Precisely their necessity.”

—

“But a Book is only the Heart’s Portrait- every Page a Pulse.”

—

“Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate. ”

—

“Who never lost, are unprepared”

—

To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.

—

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes – 
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long – 
Or did it just begin – 
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain – 

I wonder if it hurts to live – 
And if They have to try – 
And whether – could They choose between – 
It would not be – to die – 

I note that Some – gone patient long – 
At length, renew their smile –  
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil – 

I wonder if when Years have piled –  
Some Thousands – on the Harm – 
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –  

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve – 
Enlightened to a larger Pain –  
In Contrast with the Love –  

The Grieved – are many – I am told –  
There is the various Cause –  
Death – is but one – and comes but once –  
And only nails the eyes –  

There’s Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –  
A sort they call “Despair” –  
There’s Banishment from native Eyes – 
In sight of Native Air –  

And though I may not guess the kind –  
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –  

To note the fashions – of the Cross –  
And how they’re mostly worn –  
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like my own –