Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1161. All The Letters I Can Write 1/13/2003
1162. A Route Of Evanescence 1/3/2003
1163. Wild Nights! Wild Nights! 12/31/2002
1164. A Little East Of Jordan 1/13/2003
1165. I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died; 5/15/2001
1166. I Dwell In Possibility 1/13/2003
1167. A Poor&Mdash;Torn Heart&Mdash;A Tattered Heart 1/13/2003
1168. A First Mute Coming 1/13/2003
1169. A Still—volcano—life 1/1/2004
1170. Summer Shower 1/3/2003
1171. Afraid! Of Whom Am I Afraid? 1/13/2003
1172. A Prison Gets To Be A Friend 1/13/2003
1173. A Shady Friend For Torrid Days 5/14/2001
1174. After A Hundred Years 5/14/2001
1175. A Moth The Hue Of This 1/13/2003
1176. I Never Saw A Moor 1/3/2003
1177. Bee! I'M Expecting You! 1/13/2003
1178. A Feather From The Whippoorwill 1/13/2003
1179. As Imperceptibly As Grief 1/13/2003
1180. A Little Road Not Made Man 5/14/2001
1181. A Lady Red&Mdash;Amid The Hill 1/13/2003
1182. A Mien To Move A Queen 1/13/2003
1183. Fame Is A Fickle Food (1659) 1/20/2003
1184. Apparently With No Surprise 1/3/2003
1185. There Is Another Sky 1/13/2003
1186. Tell All The Truth 1/3/2003
1187. A Happy Lip&Mdash;Breaks Sudden 1/13/2003
1188. Ah, Moon—and Star! 1/1/2004
1189. A Fuzzy Fellow, Without Feet 1/13/2003
1190. A Little Bread&Mdash;A Crust&Mdash;A Crumb 1/13/2003
1191. After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes 5/14/2001
1192. A House Upon The Height 1/13/2003
1193. Ample Make This Bed. 5/14/2001
1194. A Long, Long Sleep, A Famous Sleep 5/14/2001
1195. A Slash Of Blue 1/13/2003
1196. A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! 1/13/2003
1197. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind 1/13/2003
1198. A Darting Fear&Mdash;A Pomp&Mdash;A Tear 1/13/2003
1199. A Narrow Fellow In The Grass 5/14/2001
1200. A Doubt If It Be Us 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 Died For Beauty

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

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