Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1121. I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce 5/15/2001
1122. If I Should Die 1/13/2003
1123. I Took My Power In My Hand 1/13/2003
1124. A Still—volcano—life 1/1/2004
1125. Abraham To Kill Him 1/3/2003
1126. Water Makes Many Beds 11/24/2014
1127. 'Morning' Means 'Milking' To The Farmer 1/13/2003
1128. The Loneliness One Dare Not Sound 1/13/2003
1129. 'They Have Not Chosen Me,' He Said 1/13/2003
1130. The Rainbow Never Tells Me 1/13/2003
1131. That I Did Always Love 1/13/2003
1132. Nobody Knows This Little Rose 1/13/2003
1133. Beauty&Mdash;Be Not Caused&Mdash;It Is 1/13/2003
1134. This World Is Not Conclusion 1/13/2003
1135. We Dream—it Is Good We Are Dreaming 1/1/2004
1136. A Long, Long Sleep, A Famous Sleep 5/14/2001
1137. A Poor&Mdash;Torn Heart&Mdash;A Tattered Heart 1/13/2003
1138. The Moon Was But A Chin Of Gold 1/13/2003
1139. A Little Snow Was Here And There 1/8/2015
1140. Much Madness Is Divinest Sense 1/3/2003
1141. Fame Is A Bee 1/13/2003
1142. The Snow That Never Drifts 1/8/2015
1143. Trust In The Unexpected 1/13/2003
1144. A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! 1/13/2003
1145. A Fuzzy Fellow, Without Feet 1/13/2003
1146. Faith 1/1/2004
1147. The Definition Of Beauty Is 1/13/2003
1148. My Life Closed Twice 1/3/2003
1149. I Felt A Funeral, In My Brain (280) 1/20/2003
1150. Alone, I Cannot Be 1/13/2003
1151. I Like A Look Of Agony 1/13/2003
1152. Angels, In The Early Morning 1/13/2003
1153. Our Journey Had Advanced; 5/15/2001
1154. There's A Certain Slant Of Light (258) 1/20/2003
1155. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind 1/13/2003
1156. Nature The Gentlest Mother Is 1/3/2003
1157. Afraid! Of Whom Am I Afraid? 1/13/2003
1158. Before You Thought Of Spring, 5/14/2001
1159. 'Speech'—is A Prank Of Parliament 1/13/2003
1160. How Happy Is The Little Stone 1/13/2003

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

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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