Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

521. The Face I Carry With Me—last 1/1/2004
522. Many A Phrase Has The English Language 1/13/2003
523. I Went To Heaven,-- 5/15/2001
524. Like Some Old Fashioned Miracle 1/13/2003
525. If Recollecting Were Forgetting 1/13/2003
526. If The Foolish, Call Them "Flowers" 1/13/2003
527. Love—is That Later Thing Than Death 1/13/2003
528. May-Flower 1/2/2015
529. I Lived On Dread; To Those Who Know 5/15/2001
530. I Asked No Other Thing 1/13/2003
531. We Like March, His Shoes Are Purple, 5/15/2001
532. Where I Have Lost, I Softer Tread 1/13/2003
533. Glowing Is Her Bonnet 1/13/2003
534. To Die—takes Just A Little While 1/1/2004
535. The Drop, That Wrestles In The Sea 1/13/2003
536. Knows How To Forget! 1/13/2003
537. Over The Fence 1/13/2003
538. If He Dissolve—then—there Is Nothing 1/1/2004
539. I Know A Place Where Summer Strives 5/15/2001
540. I Tend My Flowers For Thee 1/13/2003
541. Sleep Is Supposed To Be 1/13/2003
542. One Life Of So Much Consequence! 1/13/2003
543. "470" 5/6/2016
544. The Mountains—grow Unnoticed 1/1/2004
545. Of Being Is A Bird 1/13/2003
546. So Has A Daisy Vanished 1/13/2003
547. The Luxury To Apprehend 1/13/2003
548. I Shall Keep Singing! 1/13/2003
549. Her Sweet Weight On My Heart A Night 1/13/2003
550. It's Like The Light, -- 5/15/2001
551. To Be Alive—is Power 1/1/2004
552. The Bird Must Sing To Earn The Crumb 1/13/2003
553. If This Is "Fading" 1/13/2003
554. Nature—sometimes Sears A Sapling 1/1/2004
555. Till Death—is Narrow Loving 1/1/2004
556. I Had Some Things That I Called Mine 1/13/2003
557. New Feet Within My Garden Go 1/13/2003
558. I Keep My Pledge 1/13/2003
559. I Lived On Dread 1/13/2003
560. I'Ve Known A Heaven, Like A Tent 1/13/2003

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • Pickled Onion (1/29/2005 6:34:00 AM)

    Your poem reminded me of part of your surname

    15 person liked.
    29 person did not like.
  • Theodora Onken (1/16/2005 10:33:00 PM)

    I have always loved Emily Dickinson. She was so quiet and introspective, but had such a gentle gift with words. She spent many an Amherst day writing about the things that touched her so much, and of course, the bee, and nature were amongst her favorite topics. Her gift of writing was discovered later, which is a true shame.

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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