A rejection of four of her works by Atlantic Montly convinced Emily Dickenson to keep the nearly 1800 poems she had written during her lifetime to herself. Only a couple of her poems were published while she lived. What a pity for her contemporaries but what a blessing that her poetry was posthumously released. For those of us fortunate enough to read and experience the poetry of here genius, here is but a single example:

IX

Have you got a brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?

And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there;
And let your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there.

Then look out for the little brook in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying from the hills,
And the bridges often go.

And later, in August it may be,
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life
Some burning noon go dry!

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