Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

761. So Has A Daisy Vanished 1/13/2003
762. So much of Heaven has gone from Earth 5/29/2015
763. So Much Summer 1/13/2003
764. So Proud She Was To Die 5/15/2001
765. So Set Its Sun In Thee 1/13/2003
766. So The Eyes Accost—and Sunder 1/1/2004
767. So Well That I Can Live Without 1/13/2003
768. Soil Of Flint, If Steady Tilled 1/13/2003
769. Some Days retired from the rest 4/18/2015
770. Some Keep The Sabbath Going To Church 1/3/2003
771. Some Rainbow—coming From The Fair! 1/1/2004
772. Some Such Butterfly Be Seen 1/13/2003
773. Some Things That Fly There Be 1/13/2003
774. Some, Too Fragile For Winter Winds 1/13/2003
775. Sometimes with the Heart 4/29/2015
776. Soto! Explore Thyself! 1/13/2003
777. Soul, Wilt Thou Toss Again? 1/13/2003
778. South Winds Jostle Them 1/13/2003
779. Sown In Dishonor 1/13/2003
780. 'Speech'—is A Prank Of Parliament 1/13/2003
781. Speech—is A Prank Of Parliament— 1/1/2004
782. Split The Lark&Mdash;And You'Ll Find The Music 1/13/2003
783. Spring comes on the World 5/5/2015
784. Spring Is The Period 1/13/2003
785. STEP lightly on this narrow spot 10/20/2015
786. Strong Draughts Of Their Refreshing Minds 1/13/2003
787. Struck, Was I, Not Yet By Lightning 1/13/2003
788. Success Is Counted Sweetest 12/31/2002
789. Such Is The Force Of Happiness 1/13/2003
790. Summer For Thee, Grant I May Be 1/13/2003
791. Summer Shower 1/3/2003
792. Sunset At Night—is Natural 1/1/2004
793. Superfluous Were The Sun 1/13/2003
794. Surgeons Must Be Very Careful 1/13/2003
795. Suspense—is Hostiler Than Death 1/1/2004
796. Sweet Mountains—ye Tell Me No Lie 1/1/2004
797. Sweet&Mdash;Safe&Mdash;Houses 1/13/2003
798. Sweet&Mdash;You Forgot&Mdash;But I Remembered 1/13/2003
799. Sweet, To Have Had Them Lost 1/13/2003
800. Sweet—you Forgot—but I Remembered 1/1/2004
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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