Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1. It sounded as if the Streets were running 4/21/2015
2. The inundation of the Spring 5/5/2015
3. He Preached Upon 'Breadth' Till It Argued Him Narrow — 5/11/2015
4. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
5. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
6. The Work Of Her That Went 5/13/2015
7. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
8. As from the earth the light Balloon 5/29/2015
9. Mine enemy is growing old 5/29/2015
10. His voice decrepit was with Joy 9/2/2015
11. Of Yellow was the outer Sky 9/7/2015
12. STEP lightly on this narrow spot 10/20/2015
13. My Cocoon Tightens, Colors Tease 10/20/2015
14. Witchcraft Has Not A Pedigree 11/13/2015
15. Growth of Man - like Growth of Nature 11/20/2015
16. On my volcano grows the Grass 12/10/2015
17. The reticent volcano keeps 12/11/2015
18. Remembrance has a Rear and Front 12/29/2015
19. These Fevered Days - to take them to the Forest 2/11/2016
20. Revolution is the Pod 2/13/2016
21. Not any sunny tone 2/18/2016
22. Warm in her Hand these accents lie 2/18/2016
23. Too cold is this 2/19/2016
24. Not Sickness stains the Brave, 2/26/2016
25. The Hills erect their Purple Heads 1/30/2016
26. The grave my little cottage is 2/2/2016
27. Immured in Heaven! 3/21/2016
28. The Devil - had he fidelity 3/30/2016
29. Ended, ere it begun - 4/4/2016
30. The Beggar at the Door for Fame 4/8/2016
31. Tell as a Marksman - were forgotten 4/13/2016
32. Praise it - 'tis dead - 6/7/2016
33. Down Time's quaint stream 7/12/2016
34. 'Tomorrow' - whose location 7/20/2016
35. I thought the Train would never come 7/22/2016
36. Volcanoes be in Sicily 12/10/2015
37. The Face we choose to miss 9/11/2015
38. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
39. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants 6/18/2015
40. Whose Pink career may have a close 7/4/2015
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

308

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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