Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

1830–1886 · lived 55 years US US

Emily Dickinson was a prolific American poet whose work was largely unknown during her lifetime. Her poems are characterized by their unconventional style, exploring themes of nature, death, immortality, and faith with unique imagery and introspective depth. She is now recognized as one of the most important figures in American poetry, known for her distinct voice and innovative approach to form and language.

n. 1830-12-10, Amherst · m. 1886-05-15, Amherst

150,129 Views

We see-Comparatively

We see-Comparatively

534

We see-Comparatively-
The Thing so towering high
We could not grasp its segment
Unaided-Yesterday-

This Morning's finer Verdict-
Makes scarcely worth the toil-
A furrow-Our Cordillera-
Our Apennine-a Knoll-

Perhaps 'tis kindly-done us-
The Anguish-and the loss-
The wrenching-for His Firmament
The Thing belonged to us-

To spare these Striding Spirits
Some Morning of Chagrin-
The waking in a Gnat's-embrace-
Our Giants-further on-
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

Emily Dickinson is one of America's most celebrated poets. She often wrote under her own name. She was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, and died there. Her family was prominent in Amherst society, and she came from a lineage of lawyers and politicians. She was an American national and wrote in English.

Childhood and education

Dickinson grew up in a devoutly religious household, which likely influenced her later theological explorations. She attended Amherst Academy and Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, receiving a rigorous education for the time. Her early readings included the Bible, works by Ralph Waldo Emerson, and classical literature, which undoubtedly shaped her intellectual and poetic development. Significant events in her youth included periods of intense religious engagement and growing introspection.

Literary trajectory

Dickinson began writing poetry at a young age, with her output increasing significantly in the 1860s. Her style evolved, becoming increasingly concise, introspective, and experimental. While she shared her poems with friends and family, she did not actively seek publication. A few poems were published anonymously during her lifetime, often altered by editors. She did not engage with literary magazines or anthologies in a conventional manner.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Dickinson's major works are her nearly 1,800 poems, most of which were published posthumously. Dominant themes include nature, death, immortality, faith, doubt, love, and the self. Her poems are known for their radical compression, slant rhyme, unconventional capitalization, and use of dashes. Her poetic devices are striking, creating vivid imagery and a unique rhythm. The tone can range from ecstatic to despairing, often employing irony and a deeply personal voice that transcends to the universal. Her language is precise, often using domestic imagery to explore profound philosophical ideas. She is associated with no specific literary movement but is a precursor to modernism.

Cultural and historical context

Dickinson lived during a period of significant social and intellectual change in the United States, including the abolitionist movement and the Civil War, though these are not overt subjects in her poetry. She engaged intellectually with Transcendentalism, particularly through Emerson's writings, and her work reflects a broader cultural questioning of religious and social norms. Her isolation in Amherst created a unique space for her creative development, setting her apart from established literary circles.

Personal life

Dickinson's personal life was largely private and centered in Amherst. Her relationships with family, particularly her brother Austin and his wife Susan Gilbert, were complex and deeply influential. Friendships, such as with Thomas Wentworth Higginson, provided intellectual companionship and some encouragement. Her intense inner life, marked by periods of profound introspection and perhaps illness, is reflected in the depth and originality of her poetry. She did not pursue a parallel profession, dedicating herself to her inner world and writing.

Recognition and reception

During her lifetime, Dickinson received very little recognition, with only a handful of poems published in altered forms. Her major posthumous publication in 1890 by Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Wentworth Higginson marked the beginning of her rise to prominence. Over time, her work has achieved immense critical acclaim and immense academic recognition, establishing her as a central figure in American literature.

Influences and legacy

Dickinson was influenced by the Bible, hymnology, and writers like Ralph Waldo Emerson. Her legacy is immense; she profoundly influenced modern poetry with her innovative use of language, form, and thematic exploration. She is a cornerstone of the American literary canon, and her poems are widely translated, studied, and adapted into music and other art forms. Her work continues to inspire poets and readers worldwide.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Dickinson's poetry invites multiple interpretations, often focusing on her exploration of consciousness, spirituality, and the human condition. Critical analysis has delved into her complex relationship with faith and doubt, her unique perspective on death, and the psychological dimensions of her work. Debates often surround the dating and ordering of her poems and the extent of her engagement with social issues.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Dickinson was known for her reclusive habits in her later years, often dressing in white. There is a fascinating tension between her seemingly quiet life and the radical, often explosive, nature of her poetry. Anecdotal evidence suggests her intense observational skills and a profound, sometimes unsettling, wit. She was known to bake and engage in household activities, which stood in contrast to her abstract poetic explorations.

Death and memory

Emily Dickinson died in Amherst, Massachusetts. Her memory is preserved through her extraordinary body of work, the preservation of her home as a museum, and ongoing critical and scholarly engagement with her life and poetry. Numerous posthumous collections and scholarly editions have ensured her enduring presence in literary history.

Poems

541

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

321

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs-
That phraseless Melody-
The Wind does-working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky-
Then quiver down-with tufts of Tune-
Permitted Gods, and me-

Inheritance, it is, to us-
Beyond the Art to Earn-
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers-
And inner than the Bone-
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands-
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.

I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be-
Who never heard that fleshless ChantRise-
solemn-on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept-
In Seamless Company-
380

Not Revelation-'tis-that waits

Not "Revelation"-'tis-that waits

685

Not "Revelation"-'tis-that waits,
But our unfurnished eyes-
361

Not in this world to see his face

Not in this world to see his face

Not in this world to see his face
Sounds long, until I read the place
Where this is said to be
But just the primer to a life
Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,
Clasped yet to him and me.


And yet, my primer suits me so
I would not choose a book to know
Than that, be sweeter wise;
Might some one else so learned be.
And leave me just my A B C,
Himself could have the skies.
209

Noon—is the Hinge of Day

Noon—is the Hinge of Day

931

Noon—is the Hinge of Day—
Evening—the Tissue Door—
Morning—the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar—
250

Nobody knows this little Rose

Nobody knows this little Rose

35

Nobody knows this little Rose-
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it-
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey-
On its breast to lie-
Only a Bird will wonder-
Only a Breeze will sigh-
Ah Little Rose-how easy
For such as thee to die!
296

No Other can reduce

No Other can reduce

982

No Other can reduce
Our mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it be nought
A Period from hence
But Contemplation for
Contemporaneous Nought
Our Single Competition
Jehovah's Estimate.
316

No Rack can torture me

No Rack can torture me

384

No Rack can torture me-
My Soul-at Liberty-
Behind this mortal Bone
There knits a bolder One-

You cannot prick with saw-
Nor pierce with Scimitar-
Two Bodies-therefore be-
Bind One-The Other fly-

The Eagle of his Nest
No easier divest-
And gain the Sky
Than mayest Thou-

Except Thyself may be
Thine Enemy-
Captivity is ConsciousnessSo's
Liberty.
367

No Crowd that has occurred

No Crowd that has occurred

515

No Crowd that has occurred
Exhibit-I suppose
That General Attendance
That Resurrection-does-

Circumference be full-
The long restricted Grave
Assert her Vital Privilege-
The Dust-connect-and live-

On Atoms-features place-
All Multitudes that were
Efface in the Comparison-
As Suns-dissolve a star


Solemnity-prevail-
Its Individual Doom
Possess each separate ConsciousnessAugust-
Absorbed-Numb-

What Duplicate-exist-
What Parallel can be-
Of the Significance of This-
To Universe-and Me?
269

No matter—now—Sweet

No matter—now—Sweet

704

No matter—now—Sweet—
But when I'm Earl—
Won't you wish you'd spoken
To that dull Girl?


Trivial a Word—just—
Trivial—a Smile—
But won't you wish you'd spared one
When I'm Earl?


I shan't need it—then—
Crests—will do—
Eagles on my Buckles—
On my Belt—too—


Ermine—my familiar Gown—
Say—Sweet—then
Won't you wish you'd smiled—just—
Me upon?
236

New feet within my garden go

New feet within my garden go

99

New feet within my garden go-
New fingers stir the sod-
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green-
New Weary sleep below-
And still the pensive Spring returns-
And still the punctual snow!
238

Quotes

40

Videos

50

Comments (0)

Share
Log in to post a comment.

No comments yet. Be the first to comment.