Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

521. The Soul Unto Itself (683) 1/20/2003
522. When Night Is Almost Done 1/13/2003
523. The Truth—is Stirless 1/1/2004
524. We Lose—because We Win 1/1/2004
525. I Went To Heaven,-- 5/15/2001
526. Who Never Lost, Are Unprepared 1/13/2003
527. Like Some Old Fashioned Miracle 1/13/2003
528. If It Had No Pencil 1/13/2003
529. I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet 1/13/2003
530. I Cannot Buy It—'Tis Not Sold 1/1/2004
531. One And One—are One 1/1/2004
532. I Never Told The Buried Gold 1/13/2003
533. This Heart That Broke So Long 1/13/2003
534. Her— 1/1/2004
535. Her Sweet Turn To Leave The Homestead 1/13/2003
536. She Went As Quiet As The Dew 1/13/2003
537. The Rose Did Caper On Her Cheek 1/13/2003
538. When I Hoped, I Recollect 1/13/2003
539. God Is A Distant—stately Lover 1/1/2004
540. I Found The Phrase To Every Thought 5/15/2001
541. We Like March, His Shoes Are Purple, 5/15/2001
542. Glowing Is Her Bonnet 1/13/2003
543. To Die—takes Just A Little While 1/1/2004
544. I'Ve Known A Heaven, Like A Tent 1/13/2003
545. Good Night! Which Put The Candle Out? 5/14/2001
546. I Play At Riches—to Appease 1/1/2004
547. There Is A Word 1/13/2003
548. The Pedigree Of Honey 5/15/2001
549. I Know A Place Where Summer Strives 5/15/2001
550. I Tend My Flowers For Thee 1/13/2003
551. The Murmur Of A Bee 1/13/2003
552. No Man Can Compass A Despair 1/13/2003
553. The Mountains—grow Unnoticed 1/1/2004
554. So Has A Daisy Vanished 1/13/2003
555. To Learn The Transport By The Pain 1/13/2003
556. Patience—has A Quiet Outer 1/1/2004
557. The Only Ghost I Ever Saw 5/15/2001
558. The Wind Begun To Knead The Grass 1/13/2003
559. The Flower Must Not Blame The Bee 1/13/2003
560. Mama Never Forgets Her Birds 1/13/2003

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • Uriah Hamilton (7/12/2005 9:01:00 AM)

    Quietly in her room,
    Emily Dickinson
    created a universe of poetry!

    22 person liked.
    22 person did not like.
  • Pickled Onion (1/29/2005 6:34:00 AM)

    Your poem reminded me of part of your surname

  • 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.

[Report Error]