Except To Heaven, She Is Nought

Emily Dickinson

154

Except to Heaven, she is nought.
Except for Angels—lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.

Except for winds—provincial.
Except by Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.

The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence—Home!

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : Exhilaration Is The Breeze
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• Emily Dickinson : Expanse Cannot Be Lost-
• Emily Dickinson : Expectation-is Contentment
• Emily Dickinson : Experience Is The Angled Road
• Emily Dickinson : Experiment Escorts Us Last-
• Emily Dickinson : Experiment To Me
• Emily Dickinson : Extol Thee-could I? Then I Will
• Emily Dickinson : Exultation Is The Going
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Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : Except The Smaller Size
• Emily Dickinson : Except The Heaven Had Come So Near
• Emily Dickinson : Estranged From Beauty-none Can Be-
• Emily Dickinson : Essential Oils-are Wrung
• Emily Dickinson : Escaping Backward To Perceive
• Emily Dickinson : Escape Is Such A Thankful Word
• Emily Dickinson : Endow The Living-with The Tears
• Emily Dickinson : Ended, Ere It Begun-
• Emily Dickinson : Endanger It, And The Demand
• Emily Dickinson : Empty My Heart, Of Thee