Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

41. Too cold is this 2/19/2016
42. Could mortal lip divine 3/30/2016
43. The Devil - had he fidelity 3/30/2016
44. The Blue Jay 10/8/2015
45. My Cocoon Tightens, Colors Tease 10/20/2015
46. Witchcraft Has Not A Pedigree 11/13/2015
47. Growth of Man - like Growth of Nature 11/20/2015
48. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
49. So much of Heaven has gone from Earth 5/29/2015
50. There is no Silence in the Earth 5/29/2015
51. A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring 5/5/2015
52. Spring comes on the World 5/5/2015
53. The inundation of the Spring 5/5/2015
54. September's Baccalaureate 4/21/2015
55. Sometimes with the Heart 4/29/2015
56. He Preached Upon 'Breadth' Till It Argued Him Narrow — 5/11/2015
57. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
58. I Saw The Wind Within Her 5/12/2015
59. If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head 5/12/2015
60. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants 6/18/2015
61. Image of Light, Adieu 7/21/2015
62. Of so divine a Loss 3/30/2016
63. Glory is that bright tragic thing 2/29/2016
64. Revolution is the Pod 2/13/2016
65. The Hills in Purple syllables 1/30/2016
66. The grave my little cottage is 2/2/2016
67. A chilly Peace infests the Grass 2/8/2016
68. The Beggar at the Door for Fame 4/8/2016
69. Whether they have forgotten 4/13/2016
70. Speech is one symptom of Affection 7/11/2016
71. A Counterfeit - a Plated Person - 4/7/2016
72. I am afraid to own a Body 11/26/2015
73. Air has no Residence, no Neighbor 2/10/2016
74. To the bright east she flies, 2/29/2016
75. A Word dropped careless on a Page 2/29/2016
76. STEP lightly on this narrow spot 10/20/2015
77. When a Lover is a Beggar 1/19/2016
78. Exhilaration is the Breeze 1/29/2016
79. Longing is like the Seed 7/24/2015
80. Shall I take thee, the Poet said 7/29/2015
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

Ah, Teneriffe!

666

Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages—pause for you—
Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—
Day—drops you her Red Adieu!

Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—

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