Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

641. One And One—are One 1/1/2004
642. Make Me A Picture Of The Sun 1/13/2003
643. If Those I Loved Were Lost 1/13/2003
644. When Roses Cease To Bloom, Sir 1/13/2003
645. Her Grace Is All She Has&Mdash; 1/13/2003
646. This Consciousness That Is Aware 1/13/2003
647. How Many Times These Low Feet Staggered 1/13/2003
648. I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be 1/1/2004
649. I Watched The Moon Around The House (629) 1/20/2003
650. Heaven Is So Far Of The Mind 1/13/2003
651. My Nosegays Are For Captives; 5/15/2001
652. I Cautious, Scanned My Little Life 1/13/2003
653. The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun 1/13/2003
654. The Robin's My Criterion For Tune 1/13/2003
655. Would You Like Summer? Taste Of Ours 1/13/2003
656. There Came A Day At Summer's Full 1/13/2003
657. There's Been A Death In The Opposite House 5/15/2001
658. The Test Of Love—is Death 1/1/2004
659. I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet 1/13/2003
660. Love&Mdash;Thou Art High 1/13/2003
661. I Know Some Lonely Houses Off The Road 1/13/2003
662. I Bring An Unaccustomed Wine 1/13/2003
663. I Send Two Sunsets 1/13/2003
664. I Asked No Other Thing 1/13/2003
665. I Think The Longest Hour Of All 1/13/2003
666. While It Is Alive 1/13/2003
667. The Skies Can'T Keep Their Secret! 1/13/2003
668. The Sun—just Touched The Morning 1/1/2004
669. I Lost A World - The Other Day! 1/13/2003
670. The Day Came Slow 1/3/2003
671. I Know That He Exists 1/13/2003
672. Tie The Strings To My Life, My Lord, 5/15/2001
673. My Worthiness Is All My Doubt 1/13/2003
674. Remorse - Is Memory - Awake - 1/3/2003
675. He Was Weak, And I Was Strong—then 1/1/2004
676. Some Things That Fly There Be 1/13/2003
677. I Years Had Been From Home, 5/15/2001
678. To Die 1/3/2003
679. Had I Presumed To Hope 1/13/2003
680. My Friend Attacks My Friend! 1/13/2003

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • 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.

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    22 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

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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