Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

481. I Pay—in Satin Cash 1/1/2004
482. Three Times—we Parted—breath—and I 1/1/2004
483. If The Foolish, Call Them "Flowers" 1/13/2003
484. With A Flower 1/2/2015
485. If Recollecting Were Forgetting 1/13/2003
486. We Talked As Girls Do 1/13/2003
487. Of All The Souls That Stand Create 5/15/2001
488. I Could Suffice For Him, I Knew 1/13/2003
489. I Lived On Dread; To Those Who Know 5/15/2001
490. On Such A Night, Or Such A Night 1/13/2003
491. Musicians Wrestle Everywhere 1/13/2003
492. 'Tis Good&Mdash;The Looking Back On Grief 1/13/2003
493. Whether My Bark Went Down At Sea 1/13/2003
494. Light Is Sufficient To Itself 1/13/2003
495. Never For Society 1/13/2003
496. What Inn Is This 1/13/2003
497. Had I Not This, Or This, I Said 1/13/2003
498. Pain&Mdash;Expands The Time 1/13/2003
499. The Judge Is Like The Owl 1/13/2003
500. The Service Without Hope 1/13/2003
501. If Anybody's Friend Be Dead 1/13/2003
502. The Beggar Lad&Mdash;Dies Early 1/13/2003
503. I Read My Sentence—steadily 1/1/2004
504. The Manner Of Its Death 1/13/2003
505. The Only News I Know 1/13/2003
506. On This Wondrous Sea 1/13/2003
507. The Birds Begun At Four O'Clock 1/13/2003
508. Papa Above! 1/13/2003
509. So Bashful When I Spied Her! 1/13/2003
510. I Shall Keep Singing! 1/13/2003
511. Like Eyes That Looked On Wastes 1/13/2003
512. It's Like The Light, -- 5/15/2001
513. Heart, Not So Heavy As Mine 1/13/2003
514. Of Bronze—and Blaze 1/1/2004
515. She Sped As Petals Of A Rose 1/13/2003
516. So Set Its Sun In Thee 1/13/2003
517. The Body Grows Without 1/13/2003
518. The Mountain Sat Upon The Plain 1/13/2003
519. Of Course—i Prayed 1/1/2004
520. One Dignity Delays For All 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

I Send Two Sunsets

308

I send Two Sunsets—
Day and I—in competition ran—
I finished Two—and several Stars—
While He—was making One—

His own was ampler—but as I
Was saying to a friend—
Mine—is the more convenient
To Carry in the Hand—

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