Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

1. "Faith" Is A Fine Invention 1/13/2003
2. "Heaven" Has Different Signs&Mdash;To Me 1/13/2003
3. "Heaven"—Is What I Cannot Reach! 1/13/2003
4. "Houses"&Mdash;So The Wise Men Tell Me 1/13/2003
5. "I Want"&Mdash;It Pleaded&Mdash;All Its Life 1/13/2003
6. "Nature" Is What We See 1/13/2003
7. "Unto Me?" I Do Not Know You 1/13/2003
8. "Why Do I Love" You, Sir? 1/13/2003
9. A Bird Came Down 5/14/2001
10. A Book 1/3/2003
11. A Burdock&Mdash;Clawed My Gown 1/13/2003
12. A Charm Invests A Face 1/13/2003
13. A Clock Stopped -- Not The Mantel's 5/14/2001
14. A Cloud Withdrew From The Sky 1/13/2003
15. A Coffin—is A Small Domain 1/13/2003
16. A Darting Fear&Mdash;A Pomp&Mdash;A Tear 1/13/2003
17. A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! 1/13/2003
18. A Death Blow Is A Life Blow To Some 1/13/2003
19. A Door Just Opened On A Street 5/14/2001
20. A Doubt If It Be Us 1/13/2003
21. A Drop Fell On The Apple Tree 5/14/2001
22. A Dying Tiger&Mdash;Moaned For Drink 1/13/2003
23. A Feather From The Whippoorwill 1/13/2003
24. A First Mute Coming 1/13/2003
25. A Fuzzy Fellow, Without Feet 1/13/2003
26. A Great Hope Fell 12/6/2014
27. A Happy Lip&Mdash;Breaks Sudden 1/13/2003
28. A House Upon The Height 1/13/2003
29. A Lady Red&Mdash;Amid The Hill 1/13/2003
30. A lane of Yellow led the eye 9/7/2015
31. A Light Exists In Spring 5/14/2001
32. A Little Bread&Mdash;A Crust&Mdash;A Crumb 1/13/2003
33. A Little Dog That Wags His Tail 1/6/2015
34. A Little East Of Jordan 1/13/2003
35. A little Madness in the Spring 5/5/2015
36. A Little Road Not Made Man 5/14/2001
37. A Little Snow Was Here And There 1/8/2015
38. A Long, Long Sleep, A Famous Sleep 5/14/2001
39. A Loss Of Something Ever Felt I 1/13/2003
40. A Man May Make A Remark 1/13/2003
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


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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