Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

81. How Lonesome The Wind Must Feel Nights - 5/11/2015
82. A Wind That Rose 5/11/2015
83. Whole Gulfs - of Red, and Fleets 4/17/2015
84. Silence is all we dread 4/24/2015
85. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
86. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
87. The Face we choose to miss 9/11/2015
88. If all the griefs I am to have 11/26/2015
89. Of so divine a Loss 3/30/2016
90. Hope is a strange invention 7/26/2016
91. Mine enemy is growing old 5/29/2015
92. The Bat Is Dun With Wrinkled Wings 1/20/2015
93. Could Hope Inspect Her Basis 12/6/2014
94. Luck is not chance 6/10/2015
95. I thought the Train would never come 7/22/2016
96. Of Yellow was the outer Sky 9/7/2015
97. In Snow Thou Comest 1/8/2015
98. Part Five: The Single Hound 1/15/2015
99. To Mend Each Tattered Faith 3/2/2015
100. 'Faithful To The End' Amended 3/3/2015
101. Some Days retired from the rest 4/18/2015
102. His voice decrepit was with Joy 9/2/2015
103. The Butterfly's Assumption Gown 12/13/2014
104. A little Madness in the Spring 5/5/2015
105. All Men For Honor Hardest Work 5/13/2015
106. The Wind Took Up The Northern Things 5/12/2015
107. How Slow The Wind 5/12/2015
108. I Would Distil A Cup 1/13/2003
109. Forbidden Fruit A Flavor Has 11/17/2015
110. Lightly Stepped A Yellow Star 1/16/2015
111. I Saw The Wind Within Her 5/12/2015
112. The Butterfly In Honored Dust 12/13/2014
113. The Butterfly Obtains 12/13/2014
114. When Memory is full 6/11/2015
115. 'Twas comfort in her Dying Room 3/24/2016
116. The Road Was Lit With Moon And Star 1/16/2015
117. The Sea Said 'Come' To The Brook 1/10/2015
118. September's Baccalaureate 4/21/2015
119. The Words The Happy Say 1/9/2015
120. Heavenly Father 1/8/2015

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • your name (5/4/2018 12:12:00 PM)

    comment (oco) (owo)

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    12 person did not like.
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  • Kitten (4/13/2018 12:11:00 PM)

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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

913

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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