Emily Dickinson Poems

Emily Dickinson Poems

2"Faith" Is A Fine Invention
3"Heaven" Has Different Signs&Mdash;To Me
4"Heaven"—Is What I Cannot Reach!
5"Houses"&Mdash;So The Wise Men Tell Me
6"I Want"&Mdash;It Pleaded&Mdash;All Its Life
7"Nature" Is What We See
8"Unto Me?" I Do Not Know You
9"Why Do I Love" You, Sir?
10'Arcturus' Is His Other Name
11'Faithful To The End' Amended
12'Morning' Means 'Milking' To The Farmer
13'Speech'—is A Prank Of Parliament
14'They Have Not Chosen Me,' He Said
15'Tis Anguish Grander Than Delight
16'Tis Customary As We Part
17'Tis Good&Mdash;The Looking Back On Grief
18'Tis Little I—could Care For Pearls
19'Tis Not That Dying Hurts Us So
20'Tis One By One — The Father Counts
21'Tis Opposites&Mdash;Entice
22'Tis So Appalling&Mdash;It Exhilarates
23'Tis So Much Joy!
24'Tis Sunrise&Mdash;Little Maid&Mdash;Hast Thou
25'Tis True—they Shut Me In The Cold
26'Twas A Long Parting&Mdash;But The Time
27'Twas comfort in her Dying Room
28'Twas Just This Time, Last Year, I Died
29'Twas Like A Maelstrom, With A Notch
30'Twas Love—not Me
31'Twas The Old—road—through Pain
32'Twas Warm—at First—like Us
33'Twould Ease—a Butterfly
34A Bird Came Down
35A Book
36A Burdock&Mdash;Clawed My Gown
37A Charm Invests A Face
38A chilly Peace infests the Grass
39A Clock Stopped -- Not The Mantel's
40A Cloud Withdrew From The Sky
41A Coffin—is A Small Domain
42A Counterfeit - a Plated Person -
43A Darting Fear&Mdash;A Pomp&Mdash;A Tear
44A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
45A Death Blow Is A Life Blow To Some
46A Door Just Opened On A Street
47A Doubt If It Be Us
48A Drop Fell On The Apple Tree
49A Dying Tiger&Mdash;Moaned For Drink
50A Feather From The Whippoorwill

Best Poem of Emily Dickinson

I Was The Slightest In The House

I was the slightest in the House—
I took the smallest Room—
At night, my little Lamp, and Book—
And one Geranium—

So stationed I could catch the Mint
That never ceased to fall—
And just my Basket—
Let me think—I'm sure—
That this was . . .
Read the full of I Was The Slightest In The House
Summer For Thee, Grant I May Be

Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whipporwill
And Oriole—are done!

For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me—
Thy flower—forevermore! . . .
Read the full of Summer For Thee, Grant I May Be