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. It sounded as if the Streets were running 4/21/2015
4. September's Baccalaureate 4/21/2015
5. A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring 5/5/2015
6. Spring comes on the World 5/5/2015
7. The inundation of the Spring 5/5/2015
8. The Notice that is called the Spring 5/5/2015
9. Escape is such a thankful Word 5/8/2015
10. There comes a warning like a spy 5/11/2015
11. The Duties Of The Wind Are Few 5/11/2015
12. How Lonesome The Wind Must Feel Nights - 5/11/2015
13. The Spry Arms Of The Wind 5/11/2015
14. A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions 5/12/2015
15. If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head 5/12/2015
16. The Work Of Her That Went 5/13/2015
17. High From The Earth I Heard A Bird 5/21/2015
18. And with what body do they come 5/21/2015
19. There is no Silence in the Earth 5/29/2015
20. As from the earth the light Balloon 5/29/2015
21. So much of Heaven has gone from Earth 5/29/2015
22. There is another Loneliness 6/10/2015
23. Luck is not chance 6/10/2015
24. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants 6/18/2015
25. It stole along so stealthy 6/25/2015
26. Whose Pink career may have a close 7/4/2015
27. How fits his Umber Coat 7/6/2015
28. Image of Light, Adieu 7/21/2015
29. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
30. Shall I take thee, the Poet said 7/29/2015
31. His voice decrepit was with Joy 9/2/2015
32. Rearrange a 'Wife's' affection! 9/3/2015
33. Of Yellow was the outer Sky 9/7/2015
34. The Face we choose to miss 9/11/2015
35. The Blue Jay 10/8/2015
36. Witchcraft Has Not A Pedigree 11/13/2015
37. Growth of Man - like Growth of Nature 11/20/2015
38. Judgment is justest 12/2/2015
39. Dear March - Come in 12/4/2015
40. Volcanoes be in Sicily 12/10/2015
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

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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