Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

681. I Know That He Exists 1/13/2003
682. Tie The Strings To My Life, My Lord, 5/15/2001
683. My Worthiness Is All My Doubt 1/13/2003
684. Remorse - Is Memory - Awake - 1/3/2003
685. The Leaves Like Women Interchange 1/13/2003
686. Some Things That Fly There Be 1/13/2003
687. I Years Had Been From Home, 5/15/2001
688. To Die 1/3/2003
689. I'M Saying Every Day 1/13/2003
690. Had I Presumed To Hope 1/13/2003
691. So Much Summer 1/13/2003
692. How Many Times These Low Feet Staggered 1/13/2003
693. She Slept Beneath A Tree 1/13/2003
694. If I May Have It, When It's Dead 1/13/2003
695. I Have A Bird In Spring 1/13/2003
696. Her Final Summer Was It, 5/14/2001
697. We Learned The Whole Of Love 1/13/2003
698. The Grass So Little Has To Do 1/3/2003
699. The Way I Read A Letter's—this 1/1/2004
700. The Spider Holds A Silver Ball 1/3/2003
701. Without This—there Is Nought 1/1/2004
702. The Mystery Of Pain 1/3/2003
703. Water Makes Many Beds 11/24/2014
704. Pain Has An Element Of Blank; 5/15/2001
705. To Fill A Gap 1/13/2003
706. I Am Alive - I Guess 1/1/2004
707. I Am Ashamed—i Hide 1/1/2004
708. Safe In Their Alabaster Chambers, 5/15/2001
709. There Came A Wind Like A Bugle 1/3/2003
710. Rest At Night 1/13/2003
711. I Meant To Find Her When I Came 1/13/2003
712. I Asked No Other Thing 1/13/2003
713. I Had A Guinea Golden 1/13/2003
714. How The Old Mountains Drip With Sunset 1/13/2003
715. The Soul Has Bandaged Moments 1/13/2003
716. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi 1/13/2003
717. The Definition Of Beauty Is 1/13/2003
718. Grief Is A Mouse 1/13/2003
719. Her Breast Is Fit For Pearls 1/13/2003
720. How Sick—to Wait—in Any Place—but Thine 1/1/2004
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

283

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—

[Report Error]