Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

761. Life—is What We Make Of It 1/1/2004
762. I Years Had Been From Home, 5/15/2001
763. This Quiet Dust Was Gentlemen And Ladies 1/3/2003
764. In Lands I Never Saw—they Say 1/1/2004
765. It's All I Have To Bring Today 1/13/2003
766. To Offer Brave Assistance 1/13/2003
767. I'M The Little 1/1/2004
768. Twice Had Summer Her Fair Verdure 1/13/2003
769. Going To Him! Happy Letter! Tell Him-- 5/14/2001
770. Upon Concluded Lives 1/13/2003
771. Twas Crisis—all The Length Had Passed 1/1/2004
772. Under The Light, Yet Under 1/13/2003
773. Uncertain Lease—develops Lustre 1/1/2004
774. If I Should Die 1/13/2003
775. I Had No Time To Hate, Because 5/15/2001
776. I Should Not Dare To Leave My Friend 1/13/2003
777. He Fumbles At Your Spirit 5/14/2001
778. That Is Solemn We Have Ended 1/13/2003
779. The Last Night That She Lived 1/13/2003
780. We Play At Paste, 12/31/2002
781. Unfulfilled To Observation 1/13/2003
782. I Meant To Find Her When I Came 1/13/2003
783. Unto Me? I Do Not Know You— 1/1/2004
784. Like Trains Of Cars On Tracks Of Plush 5/15/2001
785. He Fumbles At Your Soul 1/13/2003
786. I Haven'T Told My Garden Yet 1/13/2003
787. Undue Significance A Starving Man Attaches 1/13/2003
788. I Tried To Think A Lonelier Thing 1/13/2003
789. My Garden—like The Beach 1/1/2004
790. How Fortunate The Grave 1/13/2003
791. 'Twould Ease—a Butterfly 1/1/2004
792. God Gave A Loaf To Every Bird, 12/31/2002
793. Two Swimmers Wrestled On The Spar 1/13/2003
794. They Say That 'Time Assuages, 5/15/2001
795. I Held A Jewel In My Fingers 1/13/2003
796. That First Day, When You Praised Me, Sweet 1/13/2003
797. Home 1/3/2003
798. Within My Garden, Rides A Bird 1/13/2003
799. Why Do They Shut Me Out of Heaven? 1/13/2003
800. 'Twas A Long Parting&Mdash;But The Time 1/13/2003

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • Rohan R (7/29/2008 10:04:00 AM)

    One of the poets that hadn't noticed on early days. Generates philosophical
    messages in all her works

    18 person liked.
    21 person did not like.
  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (7/14/2008 3:54:00 AM)

    a gentle voice with a philosophy of life.

    20 person liked.
    20 person did not like.
  • Rosa Jamali (6/1/2008 2:30:00 PM)

    Philosophy and thoughts coming through poetry, so precious, the way she treats the words with a gentle decent vioce..

    19 person liked.
    22 person did not like.
  • okeydokey #3 (1/14/2008 3:23:00 AM)

    ...she is...my all time favorite...there was nobody...ever...that was better suited to write poetry...she is freaking amazing...

    17 person liked.
    28 person did not like.
  • Kristyn Sommers (10/13/2007 3:06:00 PM)

    Woah she looks like a dude!

    20 person liked.
    37 person did not like.
  • Dana Tyrrell (6/11/2006 8:02:00 PM)

    a truly amazing poet!

    23 person liked.
    22 person did not like.
  • Vikram Aarella - The Poem Shooter (6/1/2006 2:46:00 PM)

    It's really amazing the number of poems she has written.

    19 person liked.
    21 person did not like.
  • Uriah Hamilton (7/12/2005 9:01:00 AM)

    Quietly in her room,
    Emily Dickinson
    created a universe of poetry!

    22 person liked.
    22 person did not like.
  • 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.

    30 person liked.
    23 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

Ah, Teneriffe!


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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