In the Netherlands, it is harder than one would think to obtain a selection of Emily Dickinson's poems in English, non-translated. Of course, one has the internet, but I prefer to sit on my couch late nights, no electronics, a quiet book.
Am reading such a selection now. Inspiring. Thank you Emily. Just two poems below (you might perhaps not find them impressive, but there is something in the atmosphere of these poems that really grabs me):
HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
HEART not so heavy as mine, Wending late home, As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune,—
A careless snatch, a ballad, A ditty of the street; Yet to my irritated ear An anodyne so sweet,
It was as if a bobolink, Sauntering this way, Carolled and mused and carolled, Then bubbled slow away.
It was as if a chirping brook Upon a toilsome way Set bleeding feet to minuets Without the knowing why.
To-morrow, night will come again, Weary, perhaps, and sore. Ah, bugle, by my window, I pray you stroll once more