Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1001. As If I Asked A Common Alms 1/13/2003
1002. Nature The Gentlest Mother Is 1/3/2003
1003. You'Ll Find—it When You Try To Die 1/1/2004
1004. Forever—it Composed Of Nows 1/1/2004
1005. Besides This May 1/13/2003
1006. Why Do I Love You, Sir? 1/1/2004
1007. By My Window Have I For Scenery 1/13/2003
1008. For Death—or Rather 1/1/2004
1009. Four Trees—upon A Solitary Acre 1/1/2004
1010. Delight Becomes Pictorial 5/14/2001
1011. The Bee Is Not Afraid Of Me 1/13/2003
1012. Summer For Thee, Grant I May Be 1/13/2003
1013. Exultation Is The Going 1/13/2003
1014. Crisis Is A Hair 1/13/2003
1015. Be Mine The Doom&Mdash; 1/13/2003
1016. Delight Is As The Flight 1/13/2003
1017. Each Life Converges To Some Centre 5/14/2001
1018. A Tongue—to Tell Him I Am True! 1/1/2004
1019. For Every Bird A Nest 1/13/2003
1020. Did We Disobey Him? 1/13/2003
1021. Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat? 1/13/2003
1022. Defrauded I A Butterfly 1/13/2003
1023. Train 1/3/2003
1024. As Plan For Noon And Plan For Night 1/13/2003
1025. Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple 1/13/2003
1026. By A Flower—by A Letter 1/1/2004
1027. If You Were Coming In The Fall, 5/15/2001
1028. Best Gains—must Have The Losses' Test 1/1/2004
1029. Away From Home Are Some And I— 1/1/2004
1030. Denial&Mdash;Is The Only Fact 1/13/2003
1031. As Sleigh Bells Seem In Summer 1/13/2003
1032. At Least—to Pray—is Left—is Left 1/1/2004
1033. As One Does Sickness Over 1/13/2003
1034. And This Of All My Hopes 1/13/2003
1035. A Weight With Needles On The Pounds 1/13/2003
1036. Before The Ice Is In The Pools 1/13/2003
1037. Ambition Cannot Find Him 1/13/2003
1038. Death Is Potential To That Man 1/13/2003
1039. Could Live—did Live 1/1/2004
1040. A Visitor In Marl 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 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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