Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1161. After A Hundred Years 5/14/2001
1162. By The Sea 1/3/2003
1163. A Sepal, Petal, And A Thorn 1/13/2003
1164. Dying! Dying In The Night! 1/13/2003
1165. A Little East Of Jordan 1/13/2003
1166. A Poor&Mdash;Torn Heart&Mdash;A Tattered Heart 1/13/2003
1167. All The Letters I Can Write 1/13/2003
1168. A Loss Of Something Ever Felt I 1/13/2003
1169. Alone, I Cannot Be 1/13/2003
1170. Bee! I'M Expecting You! 1/13/2003
1171. A Something In A Summer's Day 1/13/2003
1172. Summer Shower 1/3/2003
1173. I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died; 5/15/2001
1174. I Never Saw A Moor 1/3/2003
1175. A Route Of Evanescence 1/3/2003
1176. A Shady Friend For Torrid Days 5/14/2001
1177. A First Mute Coming 1/13/2003
1178. A Moth The Hue Of This 1/13/2003
1179. Apparently With No Surprise 1/3/2003
1180. Wild Nights! Wild Nights! 12/31/2002
1181. Afraid! Of Whom Am I Afraid? 1/13/2003
1182. A Little Road Not Made Man 5/14/2001
1183. Fame Is A Fickle Food (1659) 1/20/2003
1184. As Imperceptibly As Grief 1/13/2003
1185. A Feather From The Whippoorwill 1/13/2003
1186. A Lady Red&Mdash;Amid The Hill 1/13/2003
1187. Tell All The Truth 1/3/2003
1188. There Is Another Sky 1/13/2003
1189. Ah, Moon—and Star! 1/1/2004
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 Happy Lip&Mdash;Breaks Sudden 1/13/2003
1193. A Fuzzy Fellow, Without Feet 1/13/2003
1194. A Slash Of Blue 1/13/2003
1195. A House Upon The Height 1/13/2003
1196. I Died For Beauty 1/3/2003
1197. Ample Make This Bed. 5/14/2001
1198. A Narrow Fellow In The Grass 5/14/2001
1199. A Doubt If It Be Us 1/13/2003
1200. A Darting Fear&Mdash;A Pomp&Mdash;A Tear 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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