Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

161. Best Things Dwell Out Of Sight 1/13/2003
162. Better—than Music! For I—who Heard It 1/1/2004
163. Between My Country—and The Others 1/1/2004
164. Bird 1/3/2003
165. Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple 1/13/2003
166. Bless God, He Went As Soldiers 1/13/2003
167. Bloom Upon The Mountain—stated 1/1/2004
168. Bound&Mdash;A Trouble 1/13/2003
169. Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup 1/13/2003
170. But Little Carmine Hath Her Face 1/13/2003
171. By A Flower—by A Letter 1/1/2004
172. By Chivalries As Tiny 1/13/2003
173. By homely gift and hindered Words 4/15/2016
174. By My Window Have I For Scenery 1/13/2003
175. By Such And Such An Offering 1/13/2003
176. By The Sea 1/3/2003
177. Chartless 1/3/2003
178. Civilization&Mdash;Spurns&Mdash;The Leopard! 1/13/2003
179. Cocoon Above! Cocoon Below! 1/13/2003
180. Color—caste—denomination 1/1/2004
181. Come Slowly 1/3/2003
182. Conjecturing A Climate 1/13/2003
183. Conscious Am I In My Chamber 1/13/2003
184. Could Hope Inspect Her Basis 12/6/2014
185. Could I But Ride Indefinite 1/13/2003
186. Could I—then—shut The Door 1/1/2004
187. Could Live—did Live 1/1/2004
188. Could mortal lip divine 3/30/2016
189. Could—i Do More—for Thee 1/1/2004
190. Crisis Is A Hair 1/13/2003
191. Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act 1/13/2003
192. Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat? 1/13/2003
193. Dear March - Come in 12/4/2015
194. Death Is A Dialogue Between 1/13/2003
195. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
196. Death Is Potential To That Man 1/13/2003
197. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind 1/13/2003
198. Death Sets A Thing Of Signigicant 5/14/2001
199. Declaiming Waters None May Dread 11/22/2014
200. Defrauded I A Butterfly 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

Immured in Heaven!

Immured in Heaven!
What a Cell!
Let every Bondage be,
Thou sweetest of the Universe,
Like that which ravished thee!

[Hata Bildir]