Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

561. Love—is Anterior To Life 1/1/2004
562. The Skies Can'T Keep Their Secret! 1/13/2003
563. Never For Society 1/13/2003
564. I Gained It So 1/13/2003
565. Perhaps You Think Me Stooping 1/13/2003
566. The Nearest Dream Recedes, Unrealized. 12/31/2002
567. My Faith Is Larger Than The Hills 1/13/2003
568. We Lose—because We Win 1/1/2004
569. When Night Is Almost Done 1/13/2003
570. So Much Summer 1/13/2003
571. If Anybody's Friend Be Dead 1/13/2003
572. Promise This—when You Be Dying 1/1/2004
573. One And One—are One 1/1/2004
574. I Never Told The Buried Gold 1/13/2003
575. I'Ll Clutch—and Clutch 1/1/2004
576. God Is A Distant—stately Lover 1/1/2004
577. The Winters Are So Short 1/13/2003
578. I Live With Him—i See His Face 1/1/2004
579. Her Grace Is All She Has&Mdash; 1/13/2003
580. When Roses Cease To Bloom, Sir 1/13/2003
581. She Slept Beneath A Tree 1/13/2003
582. I'M 1/1/2004
583. The Malay—took The Pearl 1/1/2004
584. I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise 1/13/2003
585. Heaven Is So Far Of The Mind 1/13/2003
586. The Color Of A Queen, Is This 1/13/2003
587. My Portion Is Defeat—today 1/1/2004
588. Robbed By Death—but That Was Easy 1/1/2004
589. I Can'T Tell You—but You Feel It 1/1/2004
590. I Prayed, At First, A Little Girl 1/13/2003
591. I Got So I Could Take His Name 1/13/2003
592. Pain&Mdash;Expands The Time 1/13/2003
593. 'Tis So Appalling&Mdash;It Exhilarates 1/13/2003
594. The Judge Is Like The Owl 1/13/2003
595. I Meant To Have But Modest Needs 1/13/2003
596. It Would Have Starved A Gnat 1/13/2003
597. I Never Felt At Home—below 1/1/2004
598. The Robin's My Criterion For Tune 1/13/2003
599. Papa Above! 1/13/2003
600. There Came A Day At Summer's Full 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

A Mien To Move A Queen


A Mien to move a Queen—
Half Child—Half Heroine—
An Orleans in the Eye
That puts its manner by
For humbler Company
When none are near
Even a Tear—

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