Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1041. I Started Early - Took My Dog 1/3/2003
1042. Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat? 1/13/2003
1043. Despair's Advantage Is Achieved 1/13/2003
1044. Answer July 1/13/2003
1045. I Like To See It Lap The Miles, 5/15/2001
1046. Unable Are The Loved To Die 1/13/2003
1047. A Tooth Upon Our Peace 1/13/2003
1048. At Least—to Pray—is Left—is Left 1/1/2004
1049. Departed To The Judgment, 5/14/2001
1050. Bless God, He Went As Soldiers 1/13/2003
1051. Water, Is Taught By Thirst 1/13/2003
1052. From Cocoon Forth A Butterfly 1/13/2003
1053. Awake Ye Muses Nine, Sing Me A Strain Divine 1/13/2003
1054. A Throe Upon The Features 1/13/2003
1055. Although I Put Away His Life 1/13/2003
1056. Beclouded 1/3/2003
1057. Did Our Best Moment Last 1/13/2003
1058. By A Flower—by A Letter 1/1/2004
1059. An Ignorance A Sunset 1/13/2003
1060. All These My Banners Be 1/13/2003
1061. How Far Is It To Heaven? 1/13/2003
1062. A South Wind&Mdash;Has A Pathos 1/13/2003
1063. Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act 1/13/2003
1064. It Sifts From Leaden Sieves 1/13/2003
1065. Your Riches—taught Me—poverty 1/1/2004
1066. You'Ll Know It—as You Know 'Tis Noon 1/1/2004
1067. It Always Felt To Me—a Wrong 1/1/2004
1068. As By The Dead We Love To Sit 1/13/2003
1069. Funny—to Be A Century 1/1/2004
1070. I Taste A Liquor Never Brewed 5/15/2001
1071. Autumn&Mdash;Overlooked My Knitting 1/13/2003
1072. Bereavement In Their Death To Feel 1/13/2003
1073. As Everywhere Of Silver 1/13/2003
1074. All Forgot For Recollecting 1/13/2003
1075. An Awful Tempest Mashed The Air 1/13/2003
1076. First Robin 5/14/2001
1077. Death Sets A Thing Of Signigicant 5/14/2001
1078. Finding Is The First Act 1/13/2003
1079. A Great Hope Fell 12/6/2014
1080. That I Did Always Love 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

And This Of All My Hopes


And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

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