Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

41. A Moth The Hue Of This 1/13/2003
42. A Murmur In The Trees&Mdash;To Note 1/13/2003
43. A Narrow Fellow In The Grass 5/14/2001
44. A Nearness To Tremendousness 1/13/2003
45. A Night&Mdash;There Lay The Days Between 1/13/2003
46. A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring 5/5/2015
47. A Planted Life&Mdash;Diversified 1/13/2003
48. A Poor&Mdash;Torn Heart&Mdash;A Tattered Heart 1/13/2003
49. A Precious—mouldering Pleasure 1/1/2004
50. A Prison Gets To Be A Friend 1/13/2003
51. A Route Of Evanescence 1/3/2003
52. A Science&Mdash;So The Savants Say 1/13/2003
53. A Secret Told 1/13/2003
54. A Sepal, Petal, And A Thorn 1/13/2003
55. A Shade Upon The Mind There Passes 1/13/2003
56. A Shady Friend For Torrid Days 5/14/2001
57. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
58. A Single Screw Of Flesh 1/13/2003
59. A Slash Of Blue 1/13/2003
60. A Solemn Thing Within The Soul 1/13/2003
61. A Solemn Thing&Mdash;It Was&Mdash;I Said 1/13/2003
62. A Something In A Summer's Day 1/13/2003
63. A South Wind&Mdash;Has A Pathos 1/13/2003
64. A Still—volcano—life 1/1/2004
65. A Thought Went Up My Mind To-Day 5/14/2001
66. A Throe Upon The Features 1/13/2003
67. A Toad Can Die Of Light! 1/1/2004
68. A Tongue—to Tell Him I Am True! 1/1/2004
69. A Tooth Upon Our Peace 1/13/2003
70. A Transport One Cannot Contain 1/13/2003
71. A Visitor In Marl 1/13/2003
72. A Weight With Needles On The Pounds 1/13/2003
73. A Wife&Mdash;At Daybreak I Shall Be 1/13/2003
74. A Wind That Rose 5/11/2015
75. A Wounded Deer&Mdash;Leaps Highest 1/13/2003
76. Abraham To Kill Him 1/3/2003
77. Absence Disembodies—so Does Death 1/1/2004
78. Absent Place&Mdash;An April Day 1/13/2003
79. Adrift! A Little Boat Adrift! 1/13/2003
80. Afraid! Of Whom Am I Afraid? 1/13/2003
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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