Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

81. Ah, Moon—and Star! 1/1/2004
82. Ah, Teneriffe! 1/13/2003
83. All But Death, Can Be Adjusted 1/13/2003
84. All Circumstances Are The Frame 1/13/2003
85. All Forgot For Recollecting 1/13/2003
86. All I May, If Small 1/13/2003
87. All Overgrown By Cunning Moss 1/13/2003
88. All The Letters I Can Write 1/13/2003
89. All These My Banners Be 1/13/2003
90. Alone, I Cannot Be 1/13/2003
91. Alter! When The Hills Do 1/13/2003
92. Although I Put Away His Life 1/13/2003
93. Always Mine! 1/13/2003
94. Ambition Cannot Find Him 1/13/2003
95. Ample Make This Bed. 5/14/2001
96. An Altered Look About The Hills 1/13/2003
97. An Antiquated Tree 12/24/2014
98. An Awful Tempest Mashed The Air 1/13/2003
99. An English Breeze 5/14/2001
100. An Everywhere Of Silver 5/14/2001
101. An Hour Is A Sea 1/13/2003
102. An Ignorance A Sunset 1/13/2003
103. And This Of All My Hopes 1/13/2003
104. Angels, In The Early Morning 1/13/2003
105. Answer July 1/13/2003
106. Apology For Her 1/13/2003
107. Apparently With No Surprise 1/3/2003
108. Arcturus 1/1/2004
109. 'Arcturus' Is His Other Name 1/13/2003
110. Are Friends Delight Or Pain 12/10/2014
111. Artists Wrestled Here! 1/13/2003
112. As By The Dead We Love To Sit 1/13/2003
113. As Children Bid The Guest "Good Night" 1/13/2003
114. As Everywhere Of Silver 1/13/2003
115. As Far From Pity, As Complaint 1/13/2003
116. As Frost Is Best Conceived 1/13/2003
117. As If I Asked A Common Alms 1/13/2003
118. As If Some Little Arctic Flower 1/13/2003
119. As If The Sea Should Part 1/13/2003
120. As Imperceptibly As Grief 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

Yesterday Is History

Yesterday is History,
'Tis so far away -
Yesterday is Poetry -
'Tis Philosophy -

Yesterday is mystery -
Where it is Today
While we shrewdly speculate
Flutter both away

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