Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

361. How Well I Knew Her Not 1/13/2003
362. I am afraid to own a Body 11/26/2015
363. I Am Alive - I Guess 1/1/2004
364. I Am Ashamed—i Hide 1/1/2004
365. I Asked No Other Thing 1/13/2003
366. I Bet With Every Wind That Blew 5/12/2015
367. I Breathed Enough To Learn The Trick, 5/14/2001
368. I Bring An Unaccustomed Wine 1/13/2003
369. I Came To Buy A Smile—today 1/1/2004
370. I Can Wade Grief 1/13/2003
371. I Cannot Be Ashamed 1/13/2003
372. I Cannot Buy It—'Tis Not Sold 1/1/2004
373. I Cannot Dance Upon My Toes 1/13/2003
374. I Cannot Live With You (No. 640) 1/20/2003
375. I Can'T Tell You—but You Feel It 1/1/2004
376. I Cautious, Scanned My Little Life 1/13/2003
377. I Could Bring You Jewels—had I A Mind To 1/1/2004
378. I Could Die—to Know 1/1/2004
379. I Could Not Drink It, Sweet 1/13/2003
380. I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet 1/13/2003
381. I Could Suffice For Him, I Knew 1/13/2003
382. I Cried At Pity—not At Pain 1/1/2004
383. I Cross Till I Am Weary 1/13/2003
384. I Died For Beauty 1/3/2003
385. I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce 5/15/2001
386. I Dreaded That First Robin, So 1/13/2003
387. I Dwell In Possibility 1/13/2003
388. I Envy Seas, Whereon He Rides 1/13/2003
389. I Fear A Man Of Frugal Speech 1/13/2003
390. I Felt A Cleaving In My Mind 5/15/2001
391. I Felt A Funeral, In My Brain (280) 1/20/2003
392. I Felt My Life With Both My Hands 1/13/2003
393. I Found The Phrase To Every Thought 5/15/2001
394. I Gained It So 1/13/2003
395. I Gave Myself To Him 1/13/2003
396. I Got So I Could Take His Name 1/13/2003
397. I Had A Guinea Golden 1/13/2003
398. I Had Been Hungry All The Years- 5/15/2001
399. I Had No Cause To Be Awake 1/13/2003
400. I Had No Time To Hate, Because 5/15/2001
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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