Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

361. Not In This World To See His Face 5/15/2001
362. The Whole Of It Came Not At Once 1/13/2003
363. I Know Lives, I Could Miss 1/13/2003
364. Put Up My Lute! 1/13/2003
365. When We Stand On The Tops Of Things 1/13/2003
366. Not All Die Early, Dying Young 1/13/2003
367. The Doomed—regard The Sunrise 1/1/2004
368. I Tie My Hat—i Crease My Shawl 1/1/2004
369. It's Coming—the Postponeless Creature 1/1/2004
370. His Bill An Auger Is 1/13/2003
371. His Feet Are Shod With Gauze 1/13/2003
372. Size Circumscribes—it Has No Room 1/1/2004
373. He Told A Homely Tale 1/13/2003
374. The Poets Light But Lamps 1/13/2003
375. The Drop, That Wrestles In The Sea 1/13/2003
376. If Pain For Peace Prepares 1/13/2003
377. 'Tis Sunrise&Mdash;Little Maid&Mdash;Hast Thou 1/13/2003
378. I Think The Hemlock Likes To Stand 1/13/2003
379. Not "Revelation"&Mdash;'Tis&Mdash;That Waits 1/13/2003
380. Morning—is The Place For Dew 1/1/2004
381. I Got So I Could Take His Name 1/13/2003
382. If He Dissolve—then—there Is Nothing 1/1/2004
383. Portraits Are To Daily Faces 1/13/2003
384. Pain Has An Element 1/3/2003
385. He Fought Like Those Who'Ve Nought To Lose 1/13/2003
386. Of Being Is A Bird 1/13/2003
387. We Cover Thee—sweet Face 1/1/2004
388. Good Night, Because We Must 1/13/2003
389. We Thirst At First—'Tis Nature's Act 1/1/2004
390. Should You But Fail At—sea 1/1/2004
391. Ourselves Were Wed One Summer—dear 1/1/2004
392. The Good Will Of A Flower 1/13/2003
393. Our Share Of Night To Bear 1/13/2003
394. Perhaps You'D Like To Buy A Flower 1/13/2003
395. I'M 1/1/2004
396. Joy To Have Merited The Pain 1/13/2003
397. On A Columnar Self 1/13/2003
398. She Bore It Till The Simple Veins 1/13/2003
399. This Was In The White Of The Year 1/13/2003
400. Her— 1/1/2004

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • Saurabh (11/12/2017 6:42:00 PM)

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    14 person liked.
    19 person did not like.
  • Trinity Salem (10/24/2017 10:01:00 AM)

    I can tell that some of you don't like her poems but in my opinion I believe that her poems will inspire those who don't like her poems someday.

    20 person liked.
    17 person did not like.
  • Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal (8/15/2017 11:44:00 AM)

    welcome s r chandrlekha
    Like · Reply · Just now

    21 person liked.
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  • Houda Saoudi (8/14/2017 4:58:00 AM)

    I love her

    30 person liked.
    15 person did not like.
  • Ahuaji Hun (6/18/2017 5:06:00 AM)

    They say you're eccentric because they all have neither the patience nor the intelligence to comprehend you or your words.They turn a blind eye to your sophistication because they fear admitting that they are not clever enough.But I don't.You are not actually good-looking but to me you got the everlasting attraction.You've left but what you sought to say always hangs around me.

    27 person liked.
    17 person did not like.
  • Rachid Ghana (5/8/2017 7:50:00 AM)

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    18 person liked.
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  • Greg Bell Greg Bell (4/16/2017 4:30:00 PM)

    What a remarkable talent, decades - no, a century - ahead of her times. Pithy, master of 'telling it slant, ' many have tried to emulate her; few, if any, have succeeded.

    34 person liked.
    21 person did not like.
  • Gary Manning (3/24/2017 12:16:00 PM)

    This poem is reproduced incorrectly. The words in leafy wood do not appear in the original. This poem exists in transcript only, the original manuscript having been lost, according to Thomas H. Johnson.

    26 person liked.
    33 person did not like.
  • Gary Manning (3/24/2017 12:14:00 PM)

    This poem is reproduced incorrectly. The words in leafy wood do not appear in the one transcript of this poem extant. No autograph copy of this poem is known, according to Thomas H. Johnson.

    22 person liked.
    41 person did not like.
  • Sylvaonyema Uba Sylvaonyema Uba (1/26/2017 4:00:00 PM)

    Images of beauty and life depicted in this poem. Sylva-Onyema Uba.

    52 person liked.
    38 person did not like.
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

And This Of All My Hopes

913

And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

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