Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

121. Apparently With No Surprise 1/3/2003
122. Arcturus 1/1/2004
123. 'Arcturus' Is His Other Name 1/13/2003
124. Are Friends Delight Or Pain 12/10/2014
125. Artists Wrestled Here! 1/13/2003
126. As By The Dead We Love To Sit 1/13/2003
127. As Children Bid The Guest "Good Night" 1/13/2003
128. As Everywhere Of Silver 1/13/2003
129. As Far From Pity, As Complaint 1/13/2003
130. As from the earth the light Balloon 5/29/2015
131. As Frost Is Best Conceived 1/13/2003
132. As If I Asked A Common Alms 1/13/2003
133. As If Some Little Arctic Flower 1/13/2003
134. As If The Sea Should Part 1/13/2003
135. As Imperceptibly As Grief 1/13/2003
136. As old as Woe 7/29/2016
137. As One Does Sickness Over 1/13/2003
138. As Plan For Noon And Plan For Night 1/13/2003
139. As Sleigh Bells Seem In Summer 1/13/2003
140. As subtle as tomorrow 7/20/2016
141. As The Starved Maelstrom Laps The Navies 1/13/2003
142. As Watchers Hang Upon The East 1/13/2003
143. At Last, To Be Identified! 1/13/2003
144. At Least—to Pray—is Left—is Left 1/1/2004
145. Autumn&Mdash;Overlooked My Knitting 1/13/2003
146. Awake Ye Muses Nine, Sing Me A Strain Divine 1/13/2003
147. Away From Home Are Some And I— 1/1/2004
148. Baffled For Just A Day Or Two 1/13/2003
149. Banish Air From Air&Mdash; 1/13/2003
150. Be Mine The Doom&Mdash; 1/13/2003
151. Beauty&Mdash;Be Not Caused&Mdash;It Is 1/13/2003
152. Because I Could Not Stop For Death 1/20/2003
153. Because The Bee May Blameless Hum 1/13/2003
154. Beclouded 1/3/2003
155. Bee! I'M Expecting You! 1/13/2003
156. Before He Comes We Weigh The Time! 1/13/2003
157. Before I Got My Eye Put Out 1/13/2003
158. Before The Ice Is In The Pools 1/13/2003
159. Before You Thought Of Spring, 5/14/2001
160. Behind Me Dips Eternity 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

913

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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