Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1. Sometimes with the Heart 4/29/2015
2. The inundation of the Spring 5/5/2015
3. He Preached Upon 'Breadth' Till It Argued Him Narrow — 5/11/2015
4. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
5. I Saw The Wind Within Her 5/12/2015
6. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
7. If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head 5/12/2015
8. The Work Of Her That Went 5/13/2015
9. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
10. There is no Silence in the Earth 5/29/2015
11. Mine enemy is growing old 5/29/2015
12. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants 6/18/2015
13. Image of Light, Adieu 7/21/2015
14. His voice decrepit was with Joy 9/2/2015
15. Rearrange a 'Wife's' affection! 9/3/2015
16. The Face we choose to miss 9/11/2015
17. The Blue Jay 10/8/2015
18. Growth of Man - like Growth of Nature 11/20/2015
19. If all the griefs I am to have 11/26/2015
20. Dear March - Come in 12/4/2015
21. The reticent volcano keeps 12/11/2015
22. Remembrance has a Rear and Front 12/29/2015
23. The Hills in Purple syllables 1/30/2016
24. The grave my little cottage is 2/2/2016
25. A chilly Peace infests the Grass 2/8/2016
26. These Fevered Days - to take them to the Forest 2/11/2016
27. Revolution is the Pod 2/13/2016
28. Warm in her Hand these accents lie 2/18/2016
29. Too cold is this 2/19/2016
30. Glory is that bright tragic thing 2/29/2016
31. Of so divine a Loss 3/30/2016
32. Could mortal lip divine 3/30/2016
33. The Beggar at the Door for Fame 4/8/2016
34. Tell as a Marksman - were forgotten 4/13/2016
35. Praise it - 'tis dead - 6/7/2016
36. 'Tomorrow' - whose location 7/20/2016
37. A train went through a burial gate 7/22/2016
38. Best Witchcraft is Geometry 8/4/2016
39. As subtle as tomorrow 7/20/2016
40. Speech is one symptom of Affection 7/11/2016
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

Ah, Teneriffe!

666

Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages—pause for you—
Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—
Day—drops you her Red Adieu!

Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—

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