Poems List

I heard a fly buzz when I died;

I heard a fly buzz when I died;

I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.


The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.


I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable,--and then
There interposed a fly,


With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see.
325

I have never seen Volcanoes

I have never seen "Volcanoes"

175

I have never seen "Volcanoes"-
But, when Travellers tell
How those old-phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still-


Bear within-appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men-


If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place-


If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome-
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?


If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy "Pompeii"!
To the Hills return!
283

I have a King, who does not speak

I have a King, who does not speak

103

I have a King, who does not speakSo-
wondering-thro' the hours meek
I trudge the day away-
Half glad when it is night, and sleep,
If, haply, thro' a dream, to peep
In parlors, shut by day.


And if I do-when morning comes-
It is as if a hundred drums
Did round my pillow roll,
And shouts fill all my Childish sky,
And Bells keep saying "Victory"
From steeples in my soul!


And if I don't-the little Bird
Within the Orchard, is not heard,
And I omit to pray
"Father, thy will be done" today
For my will goes the other way,
And it were perjury!
275

I had the Glory—that will do

I had the Glory—that will do

349

I had the Glory—that will do—
An Honor, Thought can turn her to
When lesser Fames invite—
With one long "Nay"—
Bliss' early shape
Deforming—Dwindling—Gulfing up—
Time's possibility.
236

I had not minded—Walls

I had not minded—Walls

398

I had not minded—Walls—
Were Universe—one Rock—
And fr I heard his silver Call
The other side the Block—


I'd tunnel—till my Groove
Pushed sudden thro' to his—
Then my face take her Recompense—
The looking in his Eyes—


But 'tis a single Hair—
A filament—a law—
A Cobweb—wove in Adamant—
A Battlement—of Straw—


A limit like the Veil
Unto the Lady's face—
But every Mesh—a Citadel—
And Dragons—in the Crease—
227

I had no time to Hate

I had no time to Hate

478

I had no time to Hate-
Because
The Grave would hinder Me-
And Life was not so
Ample I
Could finish-Enmity-

Nor had I time to Love-
But since
Some Industry must be-
The little Toil of Love-
I thought
Be large enough for Me-
320

I got so I could take his name

I got so I could take his name

293

I got so I could take his nameWithout-
Tremendous gain-
That Stop-sensation-on my Soul-
And Thunder-in the Room-

I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned-how-
And all our Sinew tore-

I got so I could stir the Box-
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath-
As Staples-driven through-

Could dimly recollect a Grace-
I think, they call it "God"-
Renowned to ease Extremity-
When Formula, had failed-

And shape my HandsPetition's
way,
Tho' ignorant of a word
That Ordination-utters-

My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair-
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery-
Itself, too vast, for interrupting-more-
266

I had been hungry all the years-

I had been hungry all the years-

I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.


'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.


I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.


The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.


Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.
383

I gained it so

I gained it so

359

I gained it so-
By Climbing slow-
By Catching at the Twigs that grow
Between the Bliss-and me-
It hung so high
As well the Sky
Attempt by Strategy-

I said I gained itThis-
was all-
Look, how I clutch it
Lest it fall-
And I a Pauper go-
Unfitted by an instant's Grace
For the Contented-Beggar's face
I wore-an hour ago-
290

I felt my life with both my hands

I felt my life with both my hands

351

I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there-
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler-


I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name-
For doubt, that I should know the Sound-


I judged my features-jarred my hair-
I pushed my dimples by, and waited-
If they-twinkled back-
Conviction might, of me-


I told myself, "Take Courage, FriendThat-
was a former time-
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home!"
299

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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.