Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

161. Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple 1/13/2003
162. Bless God, He Went As Soldiers 1/13/2003
163. Bloom Upon The Mountain—stated 1/1/2004
164. Bound&Mdash;A Trouble 1/13/2003
165. Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup 1/13/2003
166. But Little Carmine Hath Her Face 1/13/2003
167. By A Flower—by A Letter 1/1/2004
168. By Chivalries As Tiny 1/13/2003
169. By My Window Have I For Scenery 1/13/2003
170. By Such And Such An Offering 1/13/2003
171. By The Sea 1/3/2003
172. Chartless 1/3/2003
173. Civilization&Mdash;Spurns&Mdash;The Leopard! 1/13/2003
174. Cocoon Above! Cocoon Below! 1/13/2003
175. Color—caste—denomination 1/1/2004
176. Come Slowly 1/3/2003
177. Conjecturing A Climate 1/13/2003
178. Conscious Am I In My Chamber 1/13/2003
179. Could Hope Inspect Her Basis 12/6/2014
180. Could I But Ride Indefinite 1/13/2003
181. Could I—then—shut The Door 1/1/2004
182. Could Live—did Live 1/1/2004
183. Could—i Do More—for Thee 1/1/2004
184. Crisis Is A Hair 1/13/2003
185. Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act 1/13/2003
186. Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat? 1/13/2003
187. Dear March - Come in 12/4/2015
188. Death Is A Dialogue Between 1/13/2003
189. Death is like the insect 7/22/2015
190. Death Is Potential To That Man 1/13/2003
191. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind 1/13/2003
192. Death Sets A Thing Of Signigicant 5/14/2001
193. Declaiming Waters None May Dread 11/22/2014
194. Defrauded I A Butterfly 1/13/2003
195. Delayed Till She Had Ceased To Know 1/13/2003
196. Delight Becomes Pictorial 5/14/2001
197. Delight Is As The Flight 1/13/2003
198. Denial&Mdash;Is The Only Fact 1/13/2003
199. Departed To The Judgment, 5/14/2001
200. Deprived Of Other Banquet 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

Ah, Teneriffe!

666

Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages—pause for you—
Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—
Day—drops you her Red Adieu!

Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—

[Hata Bildir]