Emily Dickinson

1830 - 1886

The American poet Emily Dickinson and her contemporary Walt Whitman are regarded as the founders of a unique American poetic voice.As the former lived in seclusion, only ten of her nearly 1800 poems are known to have been published in her lifetime. Her poems are unique for the era in which she wrote because she freely ignored the usual rules of versification. Her work’s main themes are death and immortality.


"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 ... [+]


Because I Could Not Stop For Death

Because I could not stop for Death– He kindly stopped for me– The Carriage held but just Ourselves– And Immortality.
We slowly drove–He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my ... [+]


I’m Nobody! Who Are You?

I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you–Nobody–too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise–you know!
How dreary–to be–Somebody! How public–like a Frog– To tell ... [+]


Success Is Counted Sweetest

Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition So clear of ... [+]


I Felt a Funeral, In My Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading–treading–till it seemed That Sense was breaking through–
And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum– ... [+]


A Bird, came down the walk

A Bird, came down the Walk -
He did not know I saw -
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,
And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise ... [+]


The Railway Train

I like to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step
Around a pile of mountains,
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties, by ... [+]



The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I ... [+]