Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1121. Faith—is The Pierless Bridge 1/1/2004
1122. Absent Place&Mdash;An April Day 1/13/2003
1123. I Felt A Funeral, In My Brain (280) 1/20/2003
1124. Angels, In The Early Morning 1/13/2003
1125. A Science&Mdash;So The Savants Say 1/13/2003
1126. A Wounded Deer&Mdash;Leaps Highest 1/13/2003
1127. I Like A Look Of Agony 1/13/2003
1128. A Toad Can Die Of Light! 1/1/2004
1129. An Altered Look About The Hills 1/13/2003
1130. A Nearness To Tremendousness 1/13/2003
1131. A Mien To Move A Queen 1/13/2003
1132. You Taught Me Waiting With Myself 1/13/2003
1133. Fame Is A Fickle Food (1659) 1/20/2003
1134. Bird 1/3/2003
1135. All But Death, Can Be Adjusted 1/13/2003
1136. As If The Sea Should Part 1/13/2003
1137. Will There Really Be A "Morning"? 1/13/2003
1138. To Make A Prairie (1755) 1/20/2003
1139. You'Re Right— 1/1/2004
1140. My Life Closed Twice 1/3/2003
1141. A Still—volcano—life 1/1/2004
1142. An English Breeze 5/14/2001
1143. Much Madness Is Divinest Sense 1/3/2003
1144. A Night&Mdash;There Lay The Days Between 1/13/2003
1145. Adrift! A Little Boat Adrift! 1/13/2003
1146. A Precious—mouldering Pleasure 1/1/2004
1147. A Wife&Mdash;At Daybreak I Shall Be 1/13/2003
1148. Summer Shower 1/3/2003
1149. You left me—Sire—two Legacies 1/13/2003
1150. A Man May Make A Remark 1/13/2003
1151. Always Mine! 1/13/2003
1152. Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup 1/13/2003
1153. Again&Mdash;His Voice Is At The Door 1/13/2003
1154. A Solemn Thing Within The Soul 1/13/2003
1155. I Dwell In Possibility 1/13/2003
1156. Dying! Dying In The Night! 1/13/2003
1157. As Imperceptibly As Grief 1/13/2003
1158. Chartless 1/3/2003
1159. A Thought Went Up My Mind To-Day 5/14/2001
1160. By The Sea 1/3/2003
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!

666

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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