Emily Dickinson's Best Poems

A Face Devoid of Love

A face devoid of love or grace,

A hateful, hard, successful face,

A face with which a stone

Would feel as thoroughly at ease

As were they old acquaintances --

First time together thrown.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

(This poem is in the public domain.)

The face of my hateful younger brother Roger:

"A face devoid of love . . . "

Emily Dickinson on Asking Forgiveness of God

Here is an untitled poem by American poet Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) on asking forgiveness of God. This poem is in the public domain.

Of God we ask one favor,

That we may be forgiven --

For what, he is presumed to know --

The Crime, from us, is hidden --

Immured the whole of Life

Within a magic Prison

We reprimand the Happiness

That too competes with Heaven.

Emily Dickinson

The Lord Is My Shepherd

In the King James Version of the Bible, Isaiah 43:2-3 reads, "'When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour . . .'" American poet Emily Dickinson, as if quoting the Lord, once wrote, "'Though thou walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will be with thee.'" In the King James Version of the Bible, Psalm 23, a Psalm of David, reads:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:

he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;

thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:

thou anointest my head with oil;

my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Winter Solstice (2020)

Winter began with the solstice today at 5:02 A.M. eastern standard time. Here is an untitled poem that American poet Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) wrote about the winter solstice.

These are the days that Reindeer love

And pranks the Northern star --

This is the Sun's objective,

And Finland of the Year.

This poem is in the public domain.

Found Poem from a Letter by Emily Dickinson

A letter from Elizabeth Holland (Mrs. J. G. Holland) to American poet Emily Dickinson and her sister jointly, in 1877, called forth this protest. This is a found poem of mine from Emily's letter to Mrs. J. G. Holland.

A mutual plum is not a plum.

I was too respectful

to take the pulp

and do not like a stone.

Send no union letters.

The soul must go by Death alone,

so, it must by life,

if it is a soul.

If a committee --

no matter.

Source: Letters by Emily Dickinson, selected and edited by Emily Fragos (copyright 2011 by Everyman's Library) 

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Emily Dickinson: A Recluse, Yes?

 

From the story "The Letting Down of the Hair"

in The Book of Folly (1972) by Anne Sexton

From the Introduction by Joyce Carol Oates

to The Essential Emily Dickinson (1996),

poems selected by Joyce Carol Oates

Emily Dickinson's Birthday

On this day in 1830, American poet Emily Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts. Here is a short, untitled poem, a birthday greeting, that she wrote circa 1880, when there were fewer birthdays to come. She died in 1886. This poem was first published in 1915; it is in the public domain.

Birthday of but a single pang
That there are less to come --
Afflictive is the Adjective
But affluent the doom --

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

To read a short biography of Emily Dickinson, click here. 

Tea

"The little package of Ceylon

arrived in fragrant safety."

So reads a riddle from a letter

by Emily Dickinson.

The answer to that riddle? Tea.

What kind of tea

did that little package contain?

Evidently

it contained pekoe, a superior

kind of black tea.

"It is inferior

for coffee," I say with Mark Twain,

"but it is pretty

fair tea."

An untitled poem by Emily Dickinson: "March is the Month of Expectation."

March is the Month of Expectation.
The things we do not know --
The Persons of prognostication
Are coming now --
We try to show becoming firmness --
But pompous Joy
Betrays us, as his first Betrothal
Betrays a Boy.

     --Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Emily Dickinson

American poet

Untitled poem by Emily Dickinson: "We like March -- his shoes are Purple."

We like March -- his shoes are Purple.
He is new and high --
Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler --
Makes he Forests Dry --
Knows the Adder's Tongue his coming
And begets her spot --
Stands the Sun so close and mighty --
That our Minds are hot.
News is he of all the others --
Bold it were to die
With the Blue Birds buccaneering
On his British sky --
   
     --Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Emily Dickinson

American poet

Untitled poem by Emily Dickinson: "Dear March -- Come in -- "

Dear March -- Come in --
How glad I am --
I hoped for you before --
Put down your Hat --
You must have walked --
How out of Breath you are --
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest --
Did you leave Nature well --
Oh March, Come right up stairs with me --
I have so much to tell --

I got your Letter, and the Birds --
The Maples never knew that you were coming -- till I called
I declare -- how Red their Faces grew --
But March, forgive me -- and
All those Hills you left for me to Hue --
There was no Purple suitable --
You took it all with you --

Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door --
I will not be pursued --
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied --
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That Blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame --

     --Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Emily Dickinson

American poet

Found Poem from Two Letters by Emily Dickinson

Here is a found poem from two letters by Emily Dickinson in Letters of Emily Dickinson, edited by Mabel Loomis Todd. The original edition of that book was first published by Roberts Brothers, Boston, in 1894.


How can one be fatherless
who has a father's friend
within confiding reach?

Who could be motherless
who has a mother's grave
within confiding reach?

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

American poet

An untitled poem by Emily Dickinson on Sabbath keeping

On this day in 1830, American poet Emily Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts. Here is an untitled poem that she wrote about how she kept the Sabbath.

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last --
I'm going, all along.

This poem is in the public domain.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

A poem by Emily Dickinson about a bee and a clover

Here is a short, untitled poem by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) about a bee and a clover. This poem is in the public domain. It was first published in 1896.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.

Emily Dickinson

American poet

An untitled poem by Emily Dickinson about an eclipse

     In her poetic and scientifically illuminating 19th-century guide to viewing a total solar eclipse Mabel Loomis Todd wrote:

A vast, palpable presence seems overwhelming the world. The blue sky changes to gray or dull purple, speedily becoming more dusky, and a death-like trance seizes upon everything earthly.

To read "What to Look for During a Total Solar Eclipse: Mabel Loomis Todd's Poetic 19th-Century Guide to Totality, with Help from Emily Dickinson" by Maria Popova, the founder of Brain Pickings, click here.
     The following is an untitled poem by Emily Dickinson that, as Maria Popova wrote in her aforementioned article, "captures the scintillating surreality of an eclipse in eight perfect lines":

     It sounded as if the Streets were running
     And then -- the Streets stood still --
     Eclipse -- was all we could see at the Window
     And Awe -- was all we could feel.

     By and by -- the boldest stole out of his Covert
     To see if Time was there --
     Nature was in an Opal Apron,
     Mixing fresher Air.

Emily Dickinson

"A Bird came down the Walk -- " by Emily Dickinson | Jordan Harling Reads

Poem by Emily Dickinson about a summer shower

Here is an untitled poem that American poet Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) wrote about a summer shower. This poem is in the public domain. It was first published in 1890.


A Drop fell on the Apple Tree --
Another -- on the Roof --
A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves --
And made the Gables laugh --

A few went out to help the Brook
That went to help the Sea --
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls --
What Necklaces could be --

The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads --
The Birds jocoser sung --
The Sunshine threw his Hat away --
The Bushes -- spangles flung --

The Breezes brought dejected Lutes --
And bathed them in the Glee --
Then Orient showed a single Flag,
And signed the Fete away --

Emily Dickinson

An untitled poem by Emily Dickinson about the United States

Here is an untitled poem that American poet Emily Dickinson wrote about the United States. This poem is in the public domain. It was first published in 1891.


My country need not change her gown,
Her triple suit as sweet
As when 'twas cut at Lexington,
And first pronounced "a fit."

Great Britain disapproves, "the stars";
Disparagement discreet, --
There's something in their attitude
That taunts her bayonet.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

A Poem by Emily Dickinson about Fire and Flood

Here is a short, untitled poem by Emily Dickinson.


You cannot put a Fire out --
A Thing that can ignite
Can go, itself, without a Fan --
Upon the slowest Night --

You cannot fold a Flood --
And put it in a Drawer --
Because the Winds would find it out --
And tell your Cedar Floor --

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

American poet