Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)
Emily Dickinson Poems
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.
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.
...she is...my all time favorite...there was nobody...ever...that was better suited to write poetry...she is freaking amazing...
Woah she looks like a dude!
a truly amazing poet!
It's really amazing the number of poems she has written.
Quietly in her room,
Emily Dickinson
created a universe of poetry!
Your poem reminded me of part of your surname
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.