Emily Dickinson's Poems

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. While Dickinson was a prolific poet, only 10 of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime. She had a good education, studying at Amherst college, and learnt not only humanities such as history and latin, but also science. This knowledge is integral to her poetry. She was known, at the time, more for being reclusive and dressing all in white than for being a poet. She often likened herself and her sister to the Bronte sisters, particularly due to her small stature.The only poems published were usually edited significantly to fit conventional poetic rules. As such, there are often multiple versions of her poems, and as the majority were not published, they do not have titles and are referred to by numbers or by their first line.

Dickinson's poems are notorious for having hidden meaning and often quite unconventional messages. Her poems are lyrics and usually quite short, written from a first person perspective. Dickinson clarifies, however, that though she writes in the first person, the narrator should not be identified with her. During these strange times of isolation, i am drawn to Dickinson's poetry, she too was isolated, almost never leaving her room, but the sheer power of her art is a reminder that though our bodies may be locked up our minds never will.

Dickinson was brought up in a puritan household, but stopped going to church as an adult. This rejection fed her imagination and poetic voice as demonstrated by the poem below.

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers (124)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers -

Untouched by Morning -

and untouched by noon -

Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,

Rafter of Satin and Roof of Stone -

Grand go the Years,

In the Crescent above them -

Worlds scoop their Arcs -

and Firmaments - row -

Diadems - drop -

And Doges surrender -

Soundless as Dots,

On a Disk of Snow.

This poem asks questions of puritanism and raises controversy, describing the resurrected dead in their graves as 'sleeping' as the world continues moving above them. The dead are cold and oblivious, and as such appear ignorant and weak. They know nothing of the day or night, they have left time behind but the world goes on. Nature continues in its procreative way - the birds and bees are busy - but the dead are oblivious. In one of her poems she personifies faith as a naive, skipping girl, a description that is reflective of her attitude towards the resurrected dead here. Her poem is devoid of the glory that one might associated with resurrection and ascension to heaven. The Beatitude says that 'the meek shall inherit the earth' but this is far from the reality described within the poem.

The poem was published, but under a different name ('the sleeping') and vastly altered. Her structure is unusual in that there is no enjambment where lines flow into one another without punctuation. Some lines end with a dash, others in a semi-colon or comma, indicating a pause for the reader. As such, each short line contains a powerful image and prompts the reader to pause and reflect.

The ryhme scheme is mostly made up of half rhymes, but the last word 'snow' rhymes with 'row', the last word of the fourth line of the second stanza. This creates a conclusive ending, as if this image is unchangeable. In this way, it emphasises the irony of the message of the poem, the idea that the resurrected will remain as they are forever. They will not inherit the earth nor find glory.

A pivotal moment in her life was a 'terror' that she never speaks of, she is so traumatised by this that she isolated herself in one room and began to live the lifestyle she is best known for. I have a suspicion that this terror signifies mental illness, a topic she talks about with intense emotion and understanding. This is demonstrated within the following poem.

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, (340)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,

A Service, like a Drum -

Kept beating - beating - till I thought

My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box

And creak across my Soul

With those same Boots of Lead, again,

Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,

And Being, but an Ear,

And I, and Silence, some strange Race,

Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down -

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing - then -

This poem describes a visit to a funeral, and the impact of this on a person's mind. The senses are overloaded, the sound of the drum heavy and repeated, creating a harsh rythmic effect. The word 'treading' is also repeated, intensifying this effect. The line 'a plank in reason, broke' highlights the sense that this poem conveys, the mind is torn apart, chaos ensues, the same way that the mind is broken down by mental illness. The numbness of the speaker's mind emphasises this sense as numbness itself is a symptom of mental illness. In this way, the poem is a fascinating portrayal of mental illness, and is impressively advanced. It is certain that Dickinson had a profounding understanding of grief and bereavement, subjects that recur again and again throughout her poetry.

The last line creates a cyclical atmoshphere, as it is made to appear unfinished. It conveys the image of spiralling, the mind entering into chaos with no apparent way of surfacing again. Her form is consistently unorthodox, leading Higgins, who published her poems, to liken her to William Blake. This is because both Blake and Dickinson are 'painterly' poets, they construct vivid images, something that excuses Dickinson's lack of convention.

There is a poem that first made me fall in love with Dickinson's poetry, this poem has feminist undertones, and is violent and full of protest. It, perhaps unknowingly, fights against Coventry Patmore's poem 'the Angel in the House'. It paints the image of a fiery woman, described as a gun, and often likened to a volcano about to erupt. This contradicts with Patmore's idolized tranquil and serene woman, described as grass growing over a stone. Here is the poem:

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun (764)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -

In Corners - till a Day

The Owner passed - identified -

And carried Me away -

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -

And now We hunt the Doe -

And every time I speak for Him

The Mountains straight reply -

And do I smile, such cordial light

Opon the Valley glow -

It is as a Vesuvian face

Had let it’s pleasure through -

And when at Night - Our good Day done -

I guard My Master’s Head -

’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s

Deep Pillow - to have shared -

To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -

None stir the second time -

On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -

Or an emphatic Thumb -

Though I than He - may longer live

He longer must - than I -

For I have but the power to kill,

Without - the power to die -

The seemingly random capitilisation and great use of enjambement may confuse the reader and transform in one's mind into chaotic, dancing fragments. Yet, once embraced, it becomes not just poetry but an experience. Once read, the messages of her poems remain lodged in her readers' minds and occur and reoccur as dreamy images and phrases. Her poetry is undoubtedly fascinating and a real treasure, i encourage you all to give her poems a try, and not to be too daunted by her complex structure and hidden messages.