Emily Dickinson

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

Emily Dickinson Poems

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