Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

801. The Butterfly's Assumption Gown 12/13/2014
802. What If I Say I Shall Not Wait! 1/13/2003
803. You'Ll Know Her—by Her Foot 1/1/2004
804. Some Things That Fly There Be 1/13/2003
805. The Only News I Know 1/13/2003
806. Each Life Converges To Some Centre 5/14/2001
807. It Dropped So Low -- In My Regard -- 1/3/2003
808. You'Ll Know It—as You Know 'Tis Noon 1/1/2004
809. Exclusion (The Soul Selects Her Own Society) 1/1/2004
810. Through The Dark Sod—as Education 1/1/2004
811. Life—is What We Make Of It 1/1/2004
812. Would You Like Summer? Taste Of Ours 1/13/2003
813. On This Wondrous Sea 1/13/2003
814. Presentiment Is That Long Shadow On The Lawn 5/15/2001
815. She Sweeps With Many-Colored Brooms, 5/15/2001
816. By My Window Have I For Scenery 1/13/2003
817. Sweet&Mdash;Safe&Mdash;Houses 1/13/2003
818. The Wind Begun To Knead The Grass 1/13/2003
819. The Soul Has Bandaged Moments 1/13/2003
820. 'Twas Like A Maelstrom, With A Notch 1/13/2003
821. The Birds Begun At Four O'Clock 1/13/2003
822. I See Thee Better—in The Dark 1/1/2004
823. Papa Above! 1/13/2003
824. The Poets Light But Lamps 1/13/2003
825. The Drop, That Wrestles In The Sea 1/13/2003
826. To Lose One's Faith&Mdash;Surpass 1/13/2003
827. Within My Reach! 1/13/2003
828. The Brain&Mdash;Is Wider Than The Sky 1/13/2003
829. It Struck Me Every Day 5/15/2001
830. We Do Not Play On Graves 1/13/2003
831. My Garden—like The Beach 1/1/2004
832. Fate Slew Him, But He Did Not Drop 3/3/2015
833. He Fumbles At Your Spirit 5/14/2001
834. I Haven'T Told My Garden Yet 1/13/2003
835. It Will Be Summer—eventually 1/1/2004
836. A Tooth Upon Our Peace 1/13/2003
837. An Awful Tempest Mashed The Air 1/13/2003
838. I Shall Keep Singing! 1/13/2003
839. I Prayed, At First, A Little Girl 1/13/2003
840. Nature Is What We See— 1/1/2004

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • 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

  • 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.

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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