Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

361. I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet 1/13/2003
362. I Could Suffice For Him, I Knew 1/13/2003
363. I Cried At Pity—not At Pain 1/1/2004
364. I Cross Till I Am Weary 1/13/2003
365. I Died For Beauty 1/3/2003
366. I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce 5/15/2001
367. I Dreaded That First Robin, So 1/13/2003
368. I Dwell In Possibility 1/13/2003
369. I Envy Seas, Whereon He Rides 1/13/2003
370. I Fear A Man Of Frugal Speech 1/13/2003
371. I Felt A Cleaving In My Mind 5/15/2001
372. I Felt A Funeral, In My Brain (280) 1/20/2003
373. I Felt My Life With Both My Hands 1/13/2003
374. I Found The Phrase To Every Thought 5/15/2001
375. I Gained It So 1/13/2003
376. I Gave Myself To Him 1/13/2003
377. I Got So I Could Take His Name 1/13/2003
378. I Had A Guinea Golden 1/13/2003
379. I Had Been Hungry All The Years- 5/15/2001
380. I Had No Cause To Be Awake 1/13/2003
381. I Had No Time To Hate, Because 5/15/2001
382. I Had Not Minded—walls 1/1/2004
383. I Had Some Things That I Called Mine 1/13/2003
384. I Had The Glory—that Will Do 1/1/2004
385. I Have A Bird In Spring 1/13/2003
386. I Have A King, Who Does Not Speak 1/13/2003
387. I Have Never Seen 1/1/2004
388. I Have Never Seen "Volcanoes" 1/13/2003
389. I Have No Life But This 11/22/2014
390. I Haven'T Told My Garden Yet 1/13/2003
391. I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died; 5/15/2001
392. I Held A Jewel In My Fingers 1/13/2003
393. I Hide Myself Within My Flower 1/13/2003
394. I Keep My Pledge 1/13/2003
395. I Know A Place Where Summer Strives 5/15/2001
396. I Know Lives, I Could Miss 1/13/2003
397. I Know Some Lonely Houses Off The Road 1/13/2003
398. I Know That He Exists 1/13/2003
399. I Know Where Wells Grow—droughtless Wells 1/1/2004
400. I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be 1/1/2004
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

The Blue Jay

No brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity

Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.

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