Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

161. Best Gains—must Have The Losses' Test 1/1/2004
162. Best Things Dwell Out Of Sight 1/13/2003
163. Better—than Music! For I—who Heard It 1/1/2004
164. Between My Country—and The Others 1/1/2004
165. Bird 1/3/2003
166. Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple 1/13/2003
167. Bless God, He Went As Soldiers 1/13/2003
168. Bloom Upon The Mountain—stated 1/1/2004
169. Bound&Mdash;A Trouble 1/13/2003
170. Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup 1/13/2003
171. But Little Carmine Hath Her Face 1/13/2003
172. By A Flower—by A Letter 1/1/2004
173. By Chivalries As Tiny 1/13/2003
174. By homely gift and hindered Words 4/15/2016
175. By My Window Have I For Scenery 1/13/2003
176. By Such And Such An Offering 1/13/2003
177. By The Sea 1/3/2003
178. Chartless 1/3/2003
179. Civilization&Mdash;Spurns&Mdash;The Leopard! 1/13/2003
180. Cocoon Above! Cocoon Below! 1/13/2003
181. Color—caste—denomination 1/1/2004
182. Come Slowly 1/3/2003
183. Conjecturing A Climate 1/13/2003
184. Conscious Am I In My Chamber 1/13/2003
185. Could Hope Inspect Her Basis 12/6/2014
186. Could I But Ride Indefinite 1/13/2003
187. Could I—then—shut The Door 1/1/2004
188. Could Live—did Live 1/1/2004
189. Could mortal lip divine 3/30/2016
190. Could—i Do More—for Thee 1/1/2004
191. Crisis Is A Hair 1/13/2003
192. Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act 1/13/2003
193. Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat? 1/13/2003
194. Dear March - Come in 12/4/2015
195. Death Is A Dialogue Between 1/13/2003
196. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
197. Death Is Potential To That Man 1/13/2003
198. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind 1/13/2003
199. Death Sets A Thing Of Signigicant 5/14/2001
200. Declaiming Waters None May Dread 11/22/2014
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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