Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1. Said Death To Passion 4/10/2015
2. Whole Gulfs - of Red, and Fleets 4/17/2015
3. There comes a warning like a spy 5/11/2015
4. He Preached Upon 'Breadth' Till It Argued Him Narrow — 5/11/2015
5. Spring comes on the World 5/5/2015
6. The inundation of the Spring 5/5/2015
7. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
8. The Wind Took Up The Northern Things 5/12/2015
9. If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head 5/12/2015
10. All Men For Honor Hardest Work 5/13/2015
11. The Work Of Her That Went 5/13/2015
12. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
13. There is no Silence in the Earth 5/29/2015
14. As from the earth the light Balloon 5/29/2015
15. Whose Pink career may have a close 7/4/2015
16. How fits his Umber Coat 7/6/2015
17. Image of Light, Adieu 7/21/2015
18. There is another Loneliness 6/10/2015
19. Mine enemy is growing old 5/29/2015
20. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
21. Escape is such a thankful Word 5/8/2015
22. Some Days retired from the rest 4/18/2015
23. It sounded as if the Streets were running 4/21/2015
24. A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring 5/5/2015
25. Sometimes with the Heart 4/29/2015
26. I Saw The Wind Within Her 5/12/2015
27. The Duties Of The Wind Are Few 5/11/2015
28. How Lonesome The Wind Must Feel Nights - 5/11/2015
29. How Slow The Wind 5/12/2015
30. Lives He In Any Other World 5/12/2015
31. The Going From A World We Know 5/12/2015
32. She could not live upon the Past 6/17/2015
33. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants 6/18/2015
34. His voice decrepit was with Joy 9/2/2015
35. He ate and drank the precious Words 9/4/2015
36. A lane of Yellow led the eye 9/7/2015
37. It stole along so stealthy 6/25/2015
38. Shall I take thee, the Poet said 7/29/2015
39. Had we our senses 8/7/2015
40. Drowning is not so pitiful 8/31/2015
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


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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