Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

161. Bereavement In Their Death To Feel 1/13/2003
162. Besides The Autumn Poets Sing 1/13/2003
163. Besides This May 1/13/2003
164. Best Gains—must Have The Losses' Test 1/1/2004
165. Best Things Dwell Out Of Sight 1/13/2003
166. Better—than Music! For I—who Heard It 1/1/2004
167. Between My Country—and The Others 1/1/2004
168. Bird 1/3/2003
169. Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple 1/13/2003
170. Bless God, He Went As Soldiers 1/13/2003
171. Bloom Upon The Mountain—stated 1/1/2004
172. Bound&Mdash;A Trouble 1/13/2003
173. Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup 1/13/2003
174. But Little Carmine Hath Her Face 1/13/2003
175. By A Flower—by A Letter 1/1/2004
176. By Chivalries As Tiny 1/13/2003
177. By homely gift and hindered Words 4/15/2016
178. By My Window Have I For Scenery 1/13/2003
179. By Such And Such An Offering 1/13/2003
180. By The Sea 1/3/2003
181. Chartless 1/3/2003
182. Civilization&Mdash;Spurns&Mdash;The Leopard! 1/13/2003
183. Cocoon Above! Cocoon Below! 1/13/2003
184. Color—caste—denomination 1/1/2004
185. Come Slowly 1/3/2003
186. Conjecturing A Climate 1/13/2003
187. Conscious Am I In My Chamber 1/13/2003
188. Could Hope Inspect Her Basis 12/6/2014
189. Could I But Ride Indefinite 1/13/2003
190. Could I—then—shut The Door 1/1/2004
191. Could Live—did Live 1/1/2004
192. Could mortal lip divine 3/30/2016
193. Could—i Do More—for Thee 1/1/2004
194. Crisis Is A Hair 1/13/2003
195. Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act 1/13/2003
196. Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat? 1/13/2003
197. Dear March - Come in 12/4/2015
198. Death Is A Dialogue Between 1/13/2003
199. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
200. Death Is Potential To That Man 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

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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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