Emily Dickinson

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

Comments about Emily Dickinson

  • Balash Salamatbakhsh (3/26/2015 9:20:00 PM)

    Emily Dickinson gave a new meaning to poetry. I admire her for her verses shakes my soul.

    102 person liked.
    90 person did not like.
  • Georgios Venetopoulos Georgios Venetopoulos (1/6/2015 1:50:00 PM)

    The semi-antique colonial English language used by Emily causes the experienced reader to slow his pace while reading her poetry. I love her style. She is laconic and she is spiritual and feminine.

  • Georgios Venetopoulos Georgios Venetopoulos (1/6/2015 1:46:00 PM)

    The semi-antique colonial English language used by Emily causes the experienced reader to slow his pace while reading her poetry. I love her style. She is laconic and she is spiritual and feminine.

  • Eric Ericson (11/26/2014 8:07:00 AM)

    unnoticed in your day -
    behind your wall or in your garden fair -
    your bloom - unwanted -
    falling to us to enjoy

  • Srimayee Ganguly Srimayee Ganguly (10/7/2014 12:36:00 PM)

    Her language is mesmerizing, haunting, irresistibly charming- a pure genius.

  • Dan Reynolds Dan Reynolds (9/23/2014 7:31:00 AM)

    You show some promise, but the archaic language lets you down. Try to read some good contemporary poets and expand your thoughts without the restriction of form.

  • S B (5/5/2014 5:39:00 PM)

    classic poems! like her use of vocabulary

  • El-emma Udofa (4/23/2014 11:19:00 PM)

    Refreshing and mind gripping, it took me on

  • Sandra Olsen (1/5/2014 1:20:00 AM)

    Emily Dickinson is singularly my favorite poetess.

  • Sandra Olsen (1/5/2014 1:19:00 AM)

    She is singularly my favorite poetess and always will be!

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

And This Of All My Hopes

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And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

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