Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

Emily Dickinson Poems

1. The inundation of the Spring 5/5/2015
2. The Notice that is called the Spring 5/5/2015
3. The Going From A World We Know 5/12/2015
4. If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head 5/12/2015
5. Rearrange a 'Wife's' affection! 9/3/2015
6. The Blue Jay -new- 10/8/2015
7. The Face we choose to miss 9/11/2015
8. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
9. Longing is like the Seed 7/24/2015
10. As from the earth the light Balloon 5/29/2015
11. Not with a club, the Heart is broken 6/4/2015
12. I Bet With Every Wind That Blew 5/12/2015
13. A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring 5/5/2015
14. He Preached Upon 'Breadth' Till It Argued Him Narrow — 5/11/2015
15. How Slow The Wind 5/12/2015
16. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
17. How Lonesome The Wind Must Feel Nights - 5/11/2015
18. A Wind That Rose 5/11/2015
19. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
20. Luck is not chance 6/10/2015
21. So much of Heaven has gone from Earth 5/29/2015
22. Of Yellow was the outer Sky 9/7/2015
23. A lane of Yellow led the eye 9/7/2015
24. The Earth Has Many Keys 5/29/2015
25. Escape is such a thankful Word 5/8/2015
26. Whole Gulfs - of Red, and Fleets 4/17/2015
27. A little Madness in the Spring 5/5/2015
28. It sounded as if the Streets were running 4/21/2015
29. High From The Earth I Heard A Bird 5/21/2015
30. Whose Pink career may have a close 7/4/2015
31. Image of Light, Adieu 7/21/2015
32. All Men For Honor Hardest Work 5/13/2015
33. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
34. Some Days retired from the rest 4/18/2015
35. The Duties Of The Wind Are Few 5/11/2015
36. The Bat Is Dun With Wrinkled Wings 1/20/2015
37. Could Hope Inspect Her Basis 12/6/2014
38. Shall I take thee, the Poet said 7/29/2015
39. 'Faithful To The End' Amended 3/3/2015
40. To Mend Each Tattered Faith 3/2/2015
Best Poem of Emily Dickinson

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

'Hope' is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

Read the full of Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

Ah, Teneriffe!


Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages—pause for you—
Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—
Day—drops you her Red Adieu!

Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—

[Hata Bildir]