Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

361. How The Old Mountains Drip With Sunset 1/13/2003
362. How The Waters Closed Above Him 1/13/2003
363. How Well I Knew Her Not 1/13/2003
364. I am afraid to own a Body 11/26/2015
365. I Am Alive - I Guess 1/1/2004
366. I Am Ashamed—i Hide 1/1/2004
367. I Asked No Other Thing 1/13/2003
368. I Bet With Every Wind That Blew 5/12/2015
369. I Breathed Enough To Learn The Trick, 5/14/2001
370. I Bring An Unaccustomed Wine 1/13/2003
371. I Came To Buy A Smile—today 1/1/2004
372. I Can Wade Grief 1/13/2003
373. I Cannot Be Ashamed 1/13/2003
374. I Cannot Buy It—'Tis Not Sold 1/1/2004
375. I Cannot Dance Upon My Toes 1/13/2003
376. I Cannot Live With You (No. 640) 1/20/2003
377. I Can'T Tell You—but You Feel It 1/1/2004
378. I Cautious, Scanned My Little Life 1/13/2003
379. I Could Bring You Jewels—had I A Mind To 1/1/2004
380. I Could Die—to Know 1/1/2004
381. I Could Not Drink It, Sweet 1/13/2003
382. I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet 1/13/2003
383. I Could Suffice For Him, I Knew 1/13/2003
384. I Cried At Pity—not At Pain 1/1/2004
385. I Cross Till I Am Weary 1/13/2003
386. I Died For Beauty 1/3/2003
387. I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce 5/15/2001
388. I Dreaded That First Robin, So 1/13/2003
389. I Dwell In Possibility 1/13/2003
390. I Envy Seas, Whereon He Rides 1/13/2003
391. I Fear A Man Of Frugal Speech 1/13/2003
392. I Felt A Cleaving In My Mind 5/15/2001
393. I Felt A Funeral, In My Brain (280) 1/20/2003
394. I Felt My Life With Both My Hands 1/13/2003
395. I Found The Phrase To Every Thought 5/15/2001
396. I Gained It So 1/13/2003
397. I Gave Myself To Him 1/13/2003
398. I Got So I Could Take His Name 1/13/2003
399. I Had A Guinea Golden 1/13/2003
400. I Had Been Hungry All The Years- 5/15/2001
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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