Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1121. For Each Ecstatic Instant 5/14/2001
1122. Absent Place&Mdash;An April Day 1/13/2003
1123. An Everywhere Of Silver 5/14/2001
1124. As If The Sea Should Part 1/13/2003
1125. Apology For Her 1/13/2003
1126. Angels, In The Early Morning 1/13/2003
1127. A Science&Mdash;So The Savants Say 1/13/2003
1128. A Wounded Deer&Mdash;Leaps Highest 1/13/2003
1129. You'Re Right— 1/1/2004
1130. All Overgrown By Cunning Moss 1/13/2003
1131. An Altered Look About The Hills 1/13/2003
1132. A Solemn Thing&Mdash;It Was&Mdash;I Said 1/13/2003
1133. I Dwell In Possibility 1/13/2003
1134. The Soul Selects Her Own Society 1/3/2003
1135. My Life Closed Twice 1/3/2003
1136. All But Death, Can Be Adjusted 1/13/2003
1137. Absence Disembodies—so Does Death 1/1/2004
1138. A Nearness To Tremendousness 1/13/2003
1139. A Thought Went Up My Mind To-Day 5/14/2001
1140. Much Madness Is Divinest Sense 1/3/2003
1141. A Toad Can Die Of Light! 1/1/2004
1142. Dying! Dying In The Night! 1/13/2003
1143. Faith—is The Pierless Bridge 1/1/2004
1144. Chartless 1/3/2003
1145. Adrift! A Little Boat Adrift! 1/13/2003
1146. A Night&Mdash;There Lay The Days Between 1/13/2003
1147. A Precious—mouldering Pleasure 1/1/2004
1148. Always Mine! 1/13/2003
1149. Behind Me Dips Eternity 1/13/2003
1150. Again&Mdash;His Voice Is At The Door 1/13/2003
1151. A Prison Gets To Be A Friend 1/13/2003
1152. I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died; 5/15/2001
1153. An English Breeze 5/14/2001
1154. A Still—volcano—life 1/1/2004
1155. A Wife&Mdash;At Daybreak I Shall Be 1/13/2003
1156. Will There Really Be A "Morning"? 1/13/2003
1157. Summer Shower 1/3/2003
1158. A Shade Upon The Mind There Passes 1/13/2003
1159. All The Letters I Can Write 1/13/2003
1160. A Murmur In The Trees&Mdash;To Note 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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