What is – Emily Dickinson 

What is—”Paradise”—

Who live there—

Are they “Farmers”—

Do they “hoe”—

Do they know that this is “Amherst”—

And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear “new shoes”—in “Eden”—

Is it always pleasant—there—

Won’t they scold us—when we’re homesick—

Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there’s such a person

As “a Father”—in the sky—

So if I get lost—there—ever—

Or do what the Nurse calls “die”—

I shan’t walk the “Jasper”—barefoot—

Ransomed folks—won’t laugh at me—

Maybe—”Eden” a’n’t so lonesome

As New England used to be! 

What shall I do when the Summer Troubles – Emily Dickinson 

What shall I do when the Summer troubles—

What, when the Rose is ripe—

What when the Eggs fly off in Music

From the Maple Keep?
What shall I do when the Skies a’chirrup

Drop a Tune on me—

When the Bee hangs all Noon in the Buttercup

What will become of me?
Oh, when the Squirrel fills His Pockets

And the Berries stare

How can I bear their jocund Faces

Thou from Here, so far?
‘Twouldn’t afflict a Robin—

All His Goods have Wings—

I—do not fly, so wherefore

My Perennial Things?