Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

361. I Had Been Hungry All The Years- 5/15/2001
362. I Had No Cause To Be Awake 1/13/2003
363. I Had No Time To Hate, Because 5/15/2001
364. I Had Not Minded—walls 1/1/2004
365. I Had Some Things That I Called Mine 1/13/2003
366. I Had The Glory—that Will Do 1/1/2004
367. I Have A Bird In Spring 1/13/2003
368. I Have A King, Who Does Not Speak 1/13/2003
369. I Have Never Seen 1/1/2004
370. I Have Never Seen "Volcanoes" 1/13/2003
371. I Have No Life But This 11/22/2014
372. I Haven'T Told My Garden Yet 1/13/2003
373. I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died; 5/15/2001
374. I Held A Jewel In My Fingers 1/13/2003
375. I Hide Myself Within My Flower 1/13/2003
376. I Keep My Pledge 1/13/2003
377. I Know A Place Where Summer Strives 5/15/2001
378. I Know Lives, I Could Miss 1/13/2003
379. I Know Some Lonely Houses Off The Road 1/13/2003
380. I Know That He Exists 1/13/2003
381. I Know Where Wells Grow—droughtless Wells 1/1/2004
382. I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be 1/1/2004
383. I Like A Look Of Agony 1/13/2003
384. I Like To See It Lap The Miles, 5/15/2001
385. I Live With Him—i See His Face 1/1/2004
386. I Lived On Dread 1/13/2003
387. I Lived On Dread; To Those Who Know 5/15/2001
388. I Lost A World - The Other Day! 1/13/2003
389. I Made Slow Riches But My Gain 1/13/2003
390. I Make His Crescent Fill Or Lack 1/13/2003
391. I Many Times Thought Peace Had Come 1/13/2003
392. I Meant To Find Her When I Came 1/13/2003
393. I Meant To Have But Modest Needs 1/13/2003
394. I Measure Every Grief I Meet (561) 1/20/2003
395. I Ment To Find Her When I Came; 5/15/2001
396. I Met A King This Afternoon! 1/13/2003
397. I Never Felt At Home—below 1/1/2004
398. I Never Hear The Word 'Escape' 5/15/2001
399. I Never Lost As Much But Twice 1/13/2003
400. I Never Saw A Moor 1/3/2003
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

I Died For Beauty

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

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