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

If I should die

If I should die

54

If I should die,
And you should live-
And time should gurgle on-
And morn should beam-
And noon should burn-
As it has usual done-
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go-
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie-
That Commerce will continue-
And Trades as briskly fly-
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene-
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!
319

If He dissolve—then—there is nothing

If He dissolve—then—there is nothing

236

If He dissolve—then—there is nothing—more—
Eclipse—at Midnight—
It was dark—before—
Sunset—at Easter—
Blindness—on the Dawn—
Faint Star of Bethlehem—
Gone down!


Would but some God—inform Him—
Or it be too late!
Say—that the pulse just lisps—
The Chariots wait—


Say—that a little life—for His—
Is leaking—red—
His little Spaniel—tell Him!
Will He heed?
290

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
232

If anybody's friend be dead

If anybody's friend be dead

509

If anybody's friend be dead
It's sharpest of the theme
The thinking how they walked alive-
At such and such a time-

Their costume, of a Sunday,
Some manner of the Hair-
A prank nobody knew but them
Lost, in the Sepulchre-

How warm, they were, on such a day,
You almost feel the date-
So short way off it seems-
And now-they're Centuries from that-

How pleased they were, at what you said-
You try to touch the smile
And dip your fingers in the frost-
When was it-Can you tell-

You asked the Company to teaAcquaintance-
just a few-
And chatted close with this Grand Thing
That don't remember you-

Past Bows, and Invitations-
Past Interview, and Vow-
Past what Ourself can estimateThat-
makes the Quick of Woe!
389

Ideals are the Fairly Oil

Ideals are the Fairly Oil

983

Ideals are the Fairly Oil
With which we help the Wheel
But when the Vital Axle turns
The Eye rejects the Oil.
333

I would distil a cup

I would distil a cup

16

I would distil a cup,
And bear to all my friends,
Drinking to her no more astir,
By beck, or burn, or moor!
357

I years had been from home,

I years had been from home,

I years had been from home,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before


Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business,--just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?


I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.


I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.


I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.


I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.
716

I went to heaven,--

I went to heaven,--

I went to heaven,-'
T was a small town,
Lit with a ruby,
Lathed with down.
Stiller than the fields
At the full dew,
Beautiful as pictures
No man drew.
People like the moth,
Of mechlin, frames,
Duties of gossamer,
And eider names.
Almost contented
I could be
'Mong such unique
Society.
296

I was the slightest in the House

I was the slightest in the House

486

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 all-

I never spoke-unless addressed-
And then, 'twas brief and low-
I could not bear to live-aloud-
The Racket shamed me so-

And if it had not been so far-
And any one I knew
Were going-I had often thought
How noteless-I could die-
303

I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl

I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl

443

I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl—
Life's little duties do—precisely—
As the very least
Were infinite—to me—


I put new Blossoms in the Glass—
And throw the old—away—
I push a petal from my gown
That anchored there—I weigh
The time 'twill be till six o'clock
I have so much to do—
And yet—Existence—some way back—
Stopped—struck—my tickling—through—
We cannot put Ourself away
As a completed Man
Or Woman—When the Errand's done
We came to Flesh—upon—
There may be—Miles on Miles of Nought—
Of Action—sicker far—
To simulate—is stinging work—
To cover what we are
From Science—and from Surgery—
Too Telescopic Eyes
To bear on us unshaded—
For their—sake—not for Ours—
'Twould start them—
We—could tremble—
But since we got a Bomb—
And held it in our Bosom—
Nay—Hold it—it is calm—


Therefore—we do life's labor—
Though life's Reward—be done—
With scrupulous exactness—
To hold our Senses—on—
222

Quotes

40

Videos

50

Comments (0)

Share
Log in to post a comment.

No comments yet. Be the first to comment.