Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

121. As Far From Pity, As Complaint 1/13/2003
122. As Frost Is Best Conceived 1/13/2003
123. As If I Asked A Common Alms 1/13/2003
124. As If Some Little Arctic Flower 1/13/2003
125. As If The Sea Should Part 1/13/2003
126. As Imperceptibly As Grief 1/13/2003
127. As One Does Sickness Over 1/13/2003
128. As Plan For Noon And Plan For Night 1/13/2003
129. As Sleigh Bells Seem In Summer 1/13/2003
130. As The Starved Maelstrom Laps The Navies 1/13/2003
131. As Watchers Hang Upon The East 1/13/2003
132. At Last, To Be Identified! 1/13/2003
133. At Least—to Pray—is Left—is Left 1/1/2004
134. Autumn&Mdash;Overlooked My Knitting 1/13/2003
135. Awake Ye Muses Nine, Sing Me A Strain Divine 1/13/2003
136. Away From Home Are Some And I— 1/1/2004
137. Baffled For Just A Day Or Two 1/13/2003
138. Banish Air From Air&Mdash; 1/13/2003
139. Be Mine The Doom&Mdash; 1/13/2003
140. Beauty&Mdash;Be Not Caused&Mdash;It Is 1/13/2003
141. Because I Could Not Stop For Death (712) 1/20/2003
142. Because The Bee May Blameless Hum 1/13/2003
143. Beclouded 1/3/2003
144. Bee! I'M Expecting You! 1/13/2003
145. Before He Comes We Weigh The Time! 1/13/2003
146. Before I Got My Eye Put Out 1/13/2003
147. Before The Ice Is In The Pools 1/13/2003
148. Before You Thought Of Spring, 5/14/2001
149. Behind Me&Mdash;Dips Eternity 1/13/2003
150. Bereaved Of All, I Went Abroad 1/13/2003
151. Bereavement In Their Death To Feel 1/13/2003
152. Besides The Autumn Poets Sing 1/13/2003
153. Besides This May 1/13/2003
154. Best Gains—must Have The Losses' Test 1/1/2004
155. Best Things Dwell Out Of Sight 1/13/2003
156. Better—than Music! For I—who Heard It 1/1/2004
157. Between My Country—and The Others 1/1/2004
158. Bird 1/3/2003
159. Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple 1/13/2003
160. Bless God, He Went As Soldiers 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

I Died For Beauty

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

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