Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

801. I'M The Little 1/1/2004
802. To Lose One's Faith&Mdash;Surpass 1/13/2003
803. I Haven'T Told My Garden Yet 1/13/2003
804. Victory Comes Late 1/13/2003
805. To Lose Thee 11/21/2014
806. The Sky Is Low, The Clouds Are Mean, 5/15/2001
807. I Tried To Think A Lonelier Thing 1/13/2003
808. I Meant To Find Her When I Came 1/13/2003
809. God Gave A Loaf To Every Bird, 12/31/2002
810. You Know That Portrait In The Moon 1/13/2003
811. To Own The Art Within The Soul 1/13/2003
812. I Reason, Earth Is Short 1/13/2003
813. My Friend Must Be A Bird 1/13/2003
814. Within My Garden, Rides A Bird 1/13/2003
815. If I Should Die 1/13/2003
816. 'Twas A Long Parting&Mdash;But The Time 1/13/2003
817. To Put This World Down, Like A Bundle 1/13/2003
818. That Is Solemn We Have Ended 1/13/2003
819. Nature Rarer Uses Yellow 5/15/2001
820. Escaping Backward To Perceive 1/13/2003
821. How Fortunate The Grave 1/13/2003
822. South Winds Jostle Them 1/13/2003
823. Glee—the Great Storm Is Over 1/1/2004
824. To My Small Hearth His Fire Came 1/13/2003
825. Embarrassment Of One Another 1/13/2003
826. I Held A Jewel In My Fingers 1/13/2003
827. That First Day, When You Praised Me, Sweet 1/13/2003
828. You Said That I 1/1/2004
829. Home 1/3/2003
830. To Love Thee Year By Year 1/13/2003
831. It Will Be Summer—eventually 1/1/2004
832. Inconceivably Solemn! 1/13/2003
833. Give Little Anguish 1/13/2003
834. They Say That 'Time Assuages, 5/15/2001
835. To Fight Aloud, Is Very Brave 1/13/2003
836. The Angle Of A Landscape 1/13/2003
837. I Cannot Dance Upon My Toes 1/13/2003
838. She Dealt Her Pretty Words Like Blades 1/13/2003
839. It Knew No Lapse, Nor Diminuation 1/13/2003
840. The Last Night That She Lived 1/13/2003

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • 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.

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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