Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1201. Ample Make This Bed. 5/14/2001
1202. A Loss Of Something Ever Felt I 1/13/2003
1203. Success Is Counted Sweetest 12/31/2002
1204. A Death Blow Is A Life Blow To Some 1/13/2003
1205. 'Morning' Means 'Milking' To The Farmer 1/13/2003
1206. A Narrow Fellow In The Grass 5/14/2001
1207. "Houses"&Mdash;So The Wise Men Tell Me 1/13/2003
1208. A Drop Fell On The Apple Tree 5/14/2001
1209. 'They Have Not Chosen Me,' He Said 1/13/2003
1210. "I Want"&Mdash;It Pleaded&Mdash;All Its Life 1/13/2003
1211. A Secret Told 1/13/2003
1212. If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, 5/15/2001
1213. 'Speech'—is A Prank Of Parliament 1/13/2003
1214. A Clock Stopped -- Not The Mantel's 5/14/2001
1215. A Light Exists In Spring 5/14/2001
1216. A Burdock&Mdash;Clawed My Gown 1/13/2003
1217. 'Arcturus' Is His Other Name 1/13/2003
1218. A Charm Invests A Face 1/13/2003
1219. I'M Nobody! Who Are You? 5/15/2001
1220. "Unto Me?" I Do Not Know You 1/13/2003
1221. A Dying Tiger&Mdash;Moaned For Drink 1/13/2003
1222. A Cloud Withdrew From The Sky 1/13/2003
1223. A Coffin—is A Small Domain 1/13/2003
1224. "Heaven" Has Different Signs&Mdash;To Me 1/13/2003
1225. Because I Could Not Stop For Death 1/20/2003
1226. "Heaven"—Is What I Cannot Reach! 1/13/2003
1227. A Book 1/3/2003
1228. A Bird Came Down 5/14/2001
1229. "Faith" Is A Fine Invention 1/13/2003
1230. "Nature" Is What We See 1/13/2003
1231. "Why Do I Love" You, Sir? 1/13/2003
1232. Hope Is The Thing With Feathers 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

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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