Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

161. Had I Not This, Or This, I Said 1/13/2003
162. The Himmaleh Was Known To Stoop 1/13/2003
163. 'Tis Customary As We Part 1/13/2003
164. He Put The Belt Around My Life 1/13/2003
165. On That Dear Frame The Years Had Worn 1/13/2003
166. In Ebon Box, When Years Have Flown 1/13/2003
167. It Dropped So Low In My Regard 5/15/2001
168. I'M The Little "Heart's Ease" 1/13/2003
169. From Us She Wandered Now A Year 1/13/2003
170. Removed From Accident Of Loss 1/13/2003
171. A Throe Upon The Features 1/13/2003
172. Smiling Back From Coronation 1/13/2003
173. The Hollows Round His Eager Eyes 1/13/2003
174. He Told A Homely Tale 1/13/2003
175. I Should Have Been Too Glad, I See 1/13/2003
176. Is It True, Dear Sue? 1/13/2003
177. We See&Mdash;Comparatively 1/13/2003
178. Who Court Obtain Within Himself 1/13/2003
179. So The Eyes Accost—and Sunder 1/1/2004
180. Like Flowers, That Heard The News Of Dews 1/13/2003
181. I Rose—because He Sank 1/1/2004
182. I Want—it Pleaded—all Its Life— 1/1/2004
183. Size Circumscribes—it Has No Room 1/1/2004
184. Jesus! Thy Crucifix 1/13/2003
185. He Parts Himself—like Leaves 1/1/2004
186. Only God—detect The Sorrow 1/1/2004
187. Those Who Have Been In The Grave The Longest 1/13/2003
188. No Bobolink—reverse His Singing 1/1/2004
189. The Grace—myself—might Not Obtain 1/1/2004
190. Arcturus 1/1/2004
191. Ideals Are The Fairly Oil 1/13/2003
192. South Winds Jostle Them 1/13/2003
193. His Feet Are Shod With Gauze 1/13/2003
194. The Spirit Is The Conscious Ear 1/13/2003
195. His Bill An Auger Is 1/13/2003
196. We Miss Her, Not Because We See 1/13/2003
197. Soil Of Flint, If Steady Tilled 1/13/2003
198. The Night Was Wide, And Furnished Scant 1/13/2003
199. Drab Habitation Of Whom? 1/13/2003
200. The Zeroes—taught Us—phosphorous 1/1/2004

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • jackie (11/27/2017 6:55:00 PM)

    she wrote amazing poems that everyone should believe in

    17 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
  • Kshirod Kumar Dehury Kshirod Kumar Dehury (11/24/2017 5:58:00 AM)

    i like this poem.so beautiful in simple words.thanks for sharing.

  • Saurabh (11/12/2017 6:42:00 PM)

    Great5ttttttyttttttttytyttttttttttg

  • Trinity Salem (10/24/2017 10:01:00 AM)

    I can tell that some of you don't like her poems but in my opinion I believe that her poems will inspire those who don't like her poems someday.

  • Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal (8/15/2017 11:44:00 AM)

    welcome s r chandrlekha
    Like · Reply · Just now

  • Houda Saoudi (8/14/2017 4:58:00 AM)

    I love her

  • Ahuaji Hun (6/18/2017 5:06:00 AM)

    They say you're eccentric because they all have neither the patience nor the intelligence to comprehend you or your words.They turn a blind eye to your sophistication because they fear admitting that they are not clever enough.But I don't.You are not actually good-looking but to me you got the everlasting attraction.You've left but what you sought to say always hangs around me.

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  • Greg Bell Greg Bell (4/16/2017 4:30:00 PM)

    What a remarkable talent, decades - no, a century - ahead of her times. Pithy, master of 'telling it slant, ' many have tried to emulate her; few, if any, have succeeded.

  • Gary Manning (3/24/2017 12:16:00 PM)

    This poem is reproduced incorrectly. The words in leafy wood do not appear in the original. This poem exists in transcript only, the original manuscript having been lost, according to Thomas H. Johnson.

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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