Emily Dickinson

(1830-1886)

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A Thunderstorm
This Quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies
There's Been a Death in the Opposite House
There came a wind like a bugle
The Bustle in a House
Summer Shower
A Narrow Fellow
She Sweeps With Many-Colored Brooms
The Pedigree of Honey
The Only News I Know
The Mystery of Pain
I've Known a Heaven Like a Tent
I Went to Heaven
I felt a funeral in my brain
I Died for Beauty, but was Scarce
These are the days when Birds come back
Success is counted sweetest
My life closed twice before its close
I like to see it lap the miles
Of Bronze and Blaze
Of all the Sounds despatched abroad
I cannot dance upon my Toes
First Robin
This is my letter to the World
The soul selects
After great pain, a formal feeling comes
The sky is low
It dropped so low in my regard
I taste a liquor never brewed
Hope is the thing with feathers
The Return
Escape
Chartless
Hunger
I gave myself to him
There is no frigate like a book
It sifts from leaden sieves
Nature the gentlest mother is
What mystery pervades a well
"Faith" is a fine invention
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Because I could not stop for Death--
I started early
My life had stood
Not with a club the heart is broken

A bird came down the walk
Me! Come! My dazzled face
A little road not made of man
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
A thought went up my mind to-day
Death sets a thing significant
Each life converges to some centre
God permit industrious angels
God gave a loaf to every bird
Good night! which put the candle out?
Heaven is what I cannot reach!
I had no time to hate, because
I held a jewel in my fingers
I lived on dread; to those who know
It was not death, for I stood up
A light exists in spring
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep
A shady friend for torrid days
Before you thought of spring
A shady friend for torrid days
For each ecstatic instant
God made a little gentian
"Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--
He fumbles at your spirit
Her final summer was it
I found the phrase to every thought
I heard a fly buzz when I died
I measure every grief I meet
If you were coming in the fall
It is an honorable thought

He touched me, so I live to know
Wild Nights! Wild Nights!

Need a book on Emily Dickinson?

Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
by Emily Dickinson, Thomas H. Johnson (Editor)

Open Me Carefully: Emily Dickinson's Intimate Letters to Susan Huntington Dickinson
by Emily Dickinson, Ellen Louise Hart (Editor), Martha Nell Smith (Editor)