Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1. A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring 5/5/2015
2. Spring comes on the World 5/5/2015
3. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
4. All Men For Honor Hardest Work 5/13/2015
5. The Work Of Her That Went 5/13/2015
6. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
7. As from the earth the light Balloon 5/29/2015
8. Mine enemy is growing old 5/29/2015
9. Not with a club, the Heart is broken 6/4/2015
10. A Wind That Rose 5/11/2015
11. The Wind Took Up The Northern Things 5/12/2015
12. There comes a warning like a spy 5/11/2015
13. He Preached Upon 'Breadth' Till It Argued Him Narrow — 5/11/2015
14. It stole along so stealthy 6/25/2015
15. Whose Pink career may have a close 7/4/2015
16. The Notice that is called the Spring 5/5/2015
17. There is no Silence in the Earth 5/29/2015
18. Some Days retired from the rest 4/18/2015
19. September's Baccalaureate 4/21/2015
20. It sounded as if the Streets were running 4/21/2015
21. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants 6/18/2015
22. When Memory is full 6/11/2015
23. I Bet With Every Wind That Blew 5/12/2015
24. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
25. Image of Light, Adieu 7/21/2015
26. Had we our senses 8/7/2015
27. How fits his Umber Coat 7/6/2015
28. Lives He In Any Other World 5/12/2015
29. How Lonesome The Wind Must Feel Nights - 5/11/2015
30. I Saw The Wind Within Her 5/12/2015
31. She could not live upon the Past 6/17/2015
32. If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head 5/12/2015
33. Silence is all we dread 4/24/2015
34. Whole Gulfs - of Red, and Fleets 4/17/2015
35. So much of Heaven has gone from Earth 5/29/2015
36. How Slow The Wind 5/12/2015
37. Escape is such a thankful Word 5/8/2015
38. A little Madness in the Spring 5/5/2015
39. The Bat Is Dun With Wrinkled Wings 1/20/2015
40. The Savior Must Have Been A Docile Gentleman (1487) 12/15/2014
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

And This Of All My Hopes


And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

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