Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

681. The Leaves Like Women Interchange 1/13/2003
682. Some Things That Fly There Be 1/13/2003
683. I See Thee Better—in The Dark 1/1/2004
684. What Soft—cherubic Creatures 1/1/2004
685. The Wind Begun To Rock The Grass 5/15/2001
686. I Have A Bird In Spring 1/13/2003
687. You Cannot Put A Fire Out 1/13/2003
688. I Fear A Man Of Frugal Speech 1/13/2003
689. Unto Like Story—trouble Has Enticed Me 1/1/2004
690. I Can'T Tell You—but You Feel It 1/1/2004
691. The Grass So Little Has To Do 1/3/2003
692. I Had No Cause To Be Awake 1/13/2003
693. The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun 1/13/2003
694. The Bible Is An Antique Volume 1/13/2003
695. A Little Snow Was Here And There 1/8/2015
696. There Came A Day At Summer's Full 1/13/2003
697. The First Day's Night Had Come 1/13/2003
698. I'M Sorry For The Dead—today 1/1/2004
699. If I May Have It, When It's Dead 1/13/2003
700. I Would Not Paint—a Picture 1/1/2004
701. Within My Reach! 1/13/2003
702. While It Is Alive 1/13/2003
703. How Sick—to Wait—in Any Place—but Thine 1/1/2004
704. Two—were Immortal Twice 1/1/2004
705. This Consciousness That Is Aware 1/13/2003
706. I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be 1/1/2004
707. Our Lives Are Swiss 1/3/2003
708. Remorse - Is Memory - Awake - 1/3/2003
709. The Definition Of Beauty Is 1/13/2003
710. This Was A Poet&Mdash;It Is That 1/13/2003
711. I'M Ceded—i'Ve Stopped Being Theirs 1/1/2004
712. There Is A Flower That Bees Prefer 1/13/2003
713. I Robbed The Woods 1/13/2003
714. Like Trains Of Cars On Tracks Of Plush 5/15/2001
715. He Fumbles At Your Soul 1/13/2003
716. Love Reckons By Itself—alone 1/1/2004
717. How Many Times These Low Feet Staggered 1/13/2003
718. Uncertain Lease—develops Lustre 1/1/2004
719. Love&Mdash;Is Anterior To Life 1/13/2003
720. I Had Been Hungry All The Years- 5/15/2001

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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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


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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