By Emily Dickinson
A WORD is dead
When it is said
I say it just
Begins to live
This poem is in the public domain.
Autumn. What is that silent “n” all about anyway? It should be dropped quietly, like…
When I am asked how I began writing poems, I talk about the indifference of…
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are…
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