"Write what you know..." Virtually unknown during her lifetime, Emily Dickinson is recognized as one of the most influential English language writers. Site includes poems, bio, photos, links and access to the Electronic Poetry Anthology.

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Billie Dee's Electronic Poetry Anthology

Emily Dickinson

"Write what you know..." Dickinson (1830- 1886) spent her entire life in Amherst, Massachusetts, the last years of her life as a recluse in one room of her family home. Virtually unpublished during her lifetime, she is now recognized as one of the first modern American poets. Her unique, eccentric, enigmatic voice has influenced most English language writers, continues to intrigue  and confound contemporary readers.

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(1865) A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides -- You may have met Him -- did you not His notice sudden is -- The Grass divides as with a Comb -- A spotted shaft is seen -- And then it closes at your feet And opens further on -- He likes a Boggy Acre A Floor too cool for Corn -- Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot -- I more than once at Noon Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash Unbraiding in the Sun When stooping to secure it It wrinkled, and was gone -- Several of Nature's People I know, and they know me -- I feel for them a transport Of cordiality -- But never met this Fellow Attended, or alone Without a tighter breathing And Zero at the Bone -- (1863) 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 Sovereign 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 Upon the Valley glow -- It is as a Vesuvian face Had let its pleasure through -- And when at Night -- Our good Day done -- I guard My Master's Head -- 'Tis better than the Elder 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 -- (1863) Because I could not stop for Death -- He kindly stopped for me -- The Carriage held but just Ourselves -- and Immortality We slowly drove -- He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility -- We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess -- In the Ring -- We passed the Fields of Grazing Grain -- We passed the Setting Sun -- Or rather -- He passed Us -- The Dews drew quivering and chill -- For only Gossamer, my Gown -- My Tippet -- only Tulle -- We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground -- The Roof was scarcely visible -- The Cornice -- in the Ground -- Since then -- 'tis Centuries -- and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horse's Heads Were toward Eternity -- (1862) I heard a Fly buzz -- when I died -- The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air -- Between the Heaves of Storm -- The Eyes around -- had wrung them dry -- And Breaths were gathering firm For that last Onset -- when the King Be witnessed -- in the Room -- I willed my Keepsakes -- signed away What portion of me be Assignable -- and then it was 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 --

Other Links The Emily Dickinson International Society Dickinson Electronic Archives The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson      Virtual Emily The World of Emily Dickinson American Literature on the Web: Emily Dickinson The Emily Dickinson Homestead Emily Dickinson: Internet and Library Collections

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