Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series One

Poems by Emily Dickinson #1

by Emily Dickinson, Mabel Loomis Todd (Editor), Thomas Wentworth Higginson (Editor)

This scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing's Legacy Reprint Series. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment to protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature. Kessinger Publishing is the place to find hundreds of thousands of rare and hard-to-find books with something of interest for everyone

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Fiction, Ebooks, 19th Century, Romance, Literature

145 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1890

About the author

Emily Dickinson was an American poet who, despite the fact that less than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime, is widely considered one of the most original and influential poets of the 19th century.

Dickinson was born to a successful family with strong community ties, she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life. After she studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she spent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence.

Although Dickinson was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime.The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time. Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.

Although most of her acquaintances were probably aware of Dickinson's writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Emily's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of Dickinson's work became apparent. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, both of whom heavily edited the content.

A complete and mostly unaltered collection of her poetry became available for the first time in 1955 when The Poems of Emily Dickinson was published by scholar Thomas H. Johnson. Despite unfavorable reviews and skepticism of her literary prowess during the late 19th and early 20th century, critics now consider Dickinson to be a major American poet.

For more information, please see http://www.answers.com/topic/emily-di...

Reviews

[Ammara Abid · Rating 3 out of 5]

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.

[Vipassana · Rating 5 out of 5]

I reason, earth is short,
And anguish absolute,
And many hurt;
But what of that?

I reason, we could die:
The best vitality
Cannot excel decay;
But what of that?

I reason that in heaven
Somehow, it will be even,
Some new equation given;
But what of that?

To review Emily's poetry feels like a slight injustice. It is not meant to be explained, but pondered within yourself. As, I read her poems, moments of my life flashed by. Not what was happening in those moments, but what I felt then. I wonder how she does that. Her style gives one the room to ruminate, yet the straightforwardness of her language does not allow you to diverge too far. Is it really that? Or is that her words are so indefinite that anything I meditate upon, she agrees with.

It must be the questions. She asks me a lot of questions and I can't differentiate between her or me.

But what of it?

My gaze lingers on the page,
I read it a few times more.
Then shrug it off and go to bed,
but wake up feeling sore.

I wish I could just hobble on
drown your raging blaze,
then I see I'm burning myself
for smooth and cold is your gaze

[Nora · Rating 4 out of 5]

she describes anguish candidly
i love her your honour

[Mela · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mirth is the mail of anguish,
In which it cautions arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And "You're hurt" exclaim!

I had read two poems from 'Selected Poems' and decided that I have to read them all. After the first series I know it was the correct decision.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me

Some of her thoughts, metaphors are priceless. A pure genius of feeling and observations.

And somebody has lost the face
That made existence home!

I admit, not all of her poems were as brilliant as some other. But reading each one of them I was next to Emily, I almost could have touched her. And I wanted so much to hug her, to talk to her...

Below my three absolute favourites:

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.

***

THE MYSTERY OF PAIN.

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

***

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

[Amelia Oswald · Rating 5 out of 5]

That I did always love,
I bring thee proof:
That till I loved
I did not love enough.
That I shall love alway,
I offer thee
That love is life,
And life hath immortality.

Dickinson from Apple TV+ inspired me to be here (the show is highly recommended so gay ) :>. I'm glad I have read it. Emily Dickinson was brilliant and a genius.

[B. P. Rinehart · Rating 4 out of 5]

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,
Was large enough for me.

I have repeated from time to time on this site that I was not a big fan of 19th century literature as far as America and western Europe were concerned. That even someone who reads the classics like me found it out of my toleration. Well, even I can have exceptions and the poetry of Emily Dickinson is one of those exceptions.

Many complaints about her poetry are familiar to my complaint about most prose written in her era. It is dry, too simple, boring, etc. Despite all this I have to say she is one of my favorite poets. She is no Langston Hughes, not a Maya Angelou, or Sylvia Plath but I could read poem after poem. Is the way she uses her verse sparse simplicity? Perhaps. Is it the way she deals so precisely with the subject matter of each of her poems? That could be. Far be it from me to explain, but her poems keep me wanting to read another one, and since this is just her first volume (published posthumously) I will definitely be reviewing volume 2 as well.

[d · Rating 3 out of 5]

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too--
And angels know the rest.
I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.
- VII

[Illiterate · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dickinson’s irony lights up what otherwise would be insipid poems on a romanticized nature and Puritan God.

[Matthew Wilder · Rating 5 out of 5]

Emily Dickinson: the handheld sublime

Words for no one but herself; most humble, chapped, resembling a pocket of careworn pennies. And in that: transcendence! Scene.

[M S · Rating 5 out of 5]

talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before

[molly · Rating 5 out of 5]

my little emily <3 i love your bee poems and death poems

[Denisa Ciubotaru · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is truly beautiful how many quotes you can extract from her poems. I decided that she's my favourite poet of all times.

[Emmy · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5
(only because I’m too dumb to understand half the poems in here)

[Joana · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is between an high three stars, low four stars, and I'm going for the higher number of stars, because of the appeal of it!!! The writing is beautiful and incredible, and I was amazed by it... but the poems didn't make me feel much... I think for me and how enjoy reading, Emily Dickinson would be someone I would enjoy more in a class setting, with help analyzing the text - I think she lends herself to that, than me just reading it on public transportation!!! I won't be picking up more, but I could see myself picking something that isn't just her poems, but also biography and analysis :)

[Grace, Queen of Crows and Tomes · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emily Dickinson is one of my favorite poets. Her poems can be more spiritual than most, but she has very unique descriptions and how she sees the world. Her poems are very quick to read and are easy on the eyes. I can guarantee that will enjoy some of her poems! I will definitely be reading her second and third series!!

[Mabel · Rating 5 out of 5]

"𝙸 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚛, 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊; 𝚈𝚎𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜, 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎. 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙽𝚘𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗; 𝚈𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚖 𝙸 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝙰𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗."

[Toni · Rating 3 out of 5]

Umm, there were a few that sparked me but since I know the history behind these poems, I think I'm a bit jaded. I think I need another book of her poems - ones that were not altered.

[Yasmina · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don’t know why i JUST discovered her but i sure am about to read her other pieces of art

[Michael · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read these poems, some I understood, but others I had no idea what she was talking about. Some didn’t rhyme at all. I thought poems were supposed to rhyme? Maybe I just don’t understand poetry that well?

[Dipika Desaboyina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emily Dickinson's verse infects you like an unsuspecting bacterium. My thoughts realigned instinctively into strings of unbalanced rhythm, for a while, after I was done reading this volume and it was amusing and disarming at the same time. In a Library was the first of a long list of poems from this book, that I fell in an endearing love with. The last couple of stanzas read :

"He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.

His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

If men were books that I could own, more men would I have known, if all it took was to bow my lashes and read, I would have encountered my love indeed. It was hard not to include that conveniently rhythmic afterthought in this review and I apologize for the cheekiness but such was her impression upon me. You can see her sitting by a window building blocks of verse in her mind, as you turn every page of the book. Her melancholy is beautiful and earnest.

Some verse is gentle and bitter, like a healing medicine that is hard to get down. I see iterations of truths as the unchangeable constants they are, with no complaint or hope for a better tomorrow, and that is the quality of Dickinson's poetry that I cherish the most. She is not feisty or entitled. She does not impinge. She dwells in her personal world and does not want you to know or visit. From Surrender :

"Had I, a humble maiden,
Whose farthest of degree
Was that she might,
Some distant heaven,
Dwell timidly with thee!"

Dickinson is known to be a willfully private poet and I felt a strange sense of indignation while I was reading her published works, as if I were doing something I should not be, however, there are some certain emotions that remain undistilled within us, that she elicits with such a keen and profound insight that one might find a part of themselves in an unassuming line of her poetry. From In Vain :

"I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf"

This volume is partitioned thematically and the last section contains several of Dickinson's musings on death, which is one of the more recurring themes of her works, and to say that reading them was unnerving is a slight understatement. This beautiful and nameless combination of words sent a perfectly frosty shiver down my spine:

"I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names."

Dickinson's poetry is to be read, slowly and meticulously and with great empathy.

[Lisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Emily Dickinson is my all-time favorite poet. I loved one of her nature poems that was including in an anthology I read often as a child. I will never forget the effect the following poem had on me the first time I read it, which was in college:

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 played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 't is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

The above poem is contained in this collection as well as one of my two Dickinson favorites (the other being, of course, There is no Frigate like a Book…)—

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.

This collection, which I downloaded from project Gutenberg combines two of her favorite topics, nature and death. I really got a kick out of this poem that combines the two topics, as no one but Emily can:

If I should n’t be alive
When the robins come,
Give the one in red cravat
A memorial crumb.

If I could n’t thank you,
Being just asleep,
You will know I’m trying
With my granite lip!

“These verses will seem to the reader like poetry torn up by the roots, with rain and dew and earth still clinging to them, giving a freshness and a fragrance not otherwise to be conveyed.” Emily is simple, eloquent, lyrical, down-to-earth, and occasionally morbid. I love her!

[Sheila · Rating 3 out of 5]

I must admit that reading this was my first real exposure to Emily Dickinson. Yes, I knew she was a famous poet, but I had never spent any time reading her work, nor could I identify any poem as belonging to her. But after having her mentioned repeatedly in another book I just read I decided to download a free e-book version of her poems.

Poetry is such a unique writing style to me. I am not an expert on poetry, and poems either resonate with me, or they don’t. A poem could be a brilliant work of art, but for me it is just mediocrity. Yet other poems, which may not be brilliant at all to others, can tend to resonate with me. Such is the relationship between poetry and me.

Some of the poems of Emily Dickinson resonated with me, some did not. I can see the woman did have a gift with the written word though, so I can understand why she is still popular, or at least well known, over 100 years after her death.

For those who themselves can not identify any poem written by Ms. Dickinson, here is one I enjoyed to give you a taste of her work:

IN A LIBRARY.

A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.

His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;

What interested scholars most,
What competitions ran
When Plato was a certainty.
And Sophocles a man;

When Sappho was a living girl,
And Beatrice wore
The gown that Dante deified.
Facts, centuries before,

He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.

His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

[Eleanor · Rating 5 out of 5]

No wonder they call Emily Dickinson "one of the most important figures in American poetry". Filled with verses of varying length and themes, with a distinct, intelligent voice, Ms. Dickinson's poetry is not to be missed!! Highly, highly recommend.

"Assent - and you are sane -
Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -
And handled with a Chain"

"You left me boundaries of pain
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me."

"Unto supremest name,
Called to my full, the crescent dropped,
Existence's whole arc filled up
With one small diadem.
My second rank, too small the first,
Crowned, crowing on my father's breast,
A half unconscious queen;
But this time, adequate, erect,
With will to choose or to reject.
And I choose — just a throne."

If these quotes don't convince you to read this stunning piece of work...I don't know what will.

Happy reading!! :D

[charlie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some personal highlights:

“Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.”

“A precious, mouldering pleasure ’t is
To meet an antique book”

“Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.”

[Maram · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of my favorites was;

“Some things that fly there be, —
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:
Of these no elegy.

Some things that stay there be, —
Grief, hills, eternity:
Nor this behooveth me.

There are, that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the riddle lies!”

[Jaimie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reviewing a whole book of poetry concisely is an art which I have not mastered (and honestly am not planning on attempting), so instead we’ll take a different tactic and explore a handful of the poems which I enjoyed best in this first collection from Emily Dickinson. I’ve always been a fan of Dickinson for the few poems which I had read, so it was interesting to get to know her on a more broad level - even if this is only the very beginning, as there are quite a few more of her collections left to go!

The first poem which stood out for me was expectedly “In a Library.” I mean, this one was an easy favourite, as Dickinson explores the mutual love that all writers, readers, and literary aficionados have for the most accessible supplier of books! Her words evoke the unique smells of a library chalk-a-block full of old, rich tomes, which even though most of us frequent more modern collections we can’t help but imagine in the deepest recesses of our minds, and then the deep veneration and respect that we feel for librarians, the purveyors of our drug of choice, before moving on to the books themselves. These small offerings which take us to other worlds, into other minds, and remind us of ages past are expressed as adored in some of Dickinson’s most expressive language; it is clear that she is as deeply in love with books and the stories they hold as any of us, even though her selection was severely limited by the Victorian period (what would she have thought of the high fantasy that has become popular now?) and her subject matter tends towards the ancient and classical authors.

Dickinson clearly had a penchant for Death, and her most well-known poem (read and examined in every high school curriculum) is included here, but I’m actually going to choose a different poem as my favourite ode to Death: the untitled piece whose first line reads “I died for beauty, but was scarce…” This short poem tells the story of two beings entombed together, one having died for beauty and the other for truth. The two ideas play a nice contrast throughout the poem as the two characters get to know one another in their repose. Their story is extremely brief, but Dickinson’s imagery is strong enough to wrap my imagination in wondering who these people are. Did they know each other in the mortal realm, as enemies or rivals, and were they brought together after death to teach each other some much needed lessons? Are they actually people, or simply ideas, whose time for death has come to bring them together to create a new and more improved world? Either way, Dickinson plays an interesting game with her words here, and paints a lovely (if macabre) story.

Last, but not least, is the small poem “Lost.” This piece is such an enigma, I couldn’t help but be charmed with it, as Dickinson explores themes of loss, magic, and differing points of view. She was clearly someone out of step with her time period, and saw things from a unique perspective, so it is not surprising that these themes come up again and again in her poems. Here Dickinson finds value in a mysterious world (synonymous with a person, an idea, a freedom) bound by a shining row of stars which hides invisible to the eyes of a rich man. The poem is only two short stanzas, and in typical Dickinsonian fashion we are left with a perfect gem but very much wanting more. Who or what is this lost world, will it be found in later poems, and who is the gentleman who overlooks what Dickinson so clearly values? Considering the strange and lonely life that she seems to have lived, the world could be almost anything (in fact, it may be the world that she was largely kept from due to her sex and circumstances), and we can see Dickinson’s poem as a cry, not so much for help but for the recognition that she feels she deserves.

I’m going to take a break from reading the larger collection of Dickinson’s poems, since they are a rather large weight, but rest assured that I fully plan on returning to them after I delve into some other collections which are restlessly waiting on by TBR!

[Briana · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not my favorite poet, but I can see what people loved her. The couple that I really liked came from the Love section. Specifically those of MINE, BEQUEST and IF.

But, there are a couple others that I did enjoy mostly because sometimes she writes so beautifully:

- 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.

- ALMOST! - Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village, Sauntered as soft away! So unsuspected violets Within the fields lie low, Too late for striving fingers That passed, an hour ago.

- To fight aloud is very brave, But gallanter, I know, Who charge within the bosom, The cavalry of woe. Who win, and nations do not see, Who fall, and none observe, Whose dying eyes no country Regards with patriot love. We trust, in plumed procession, For such the angels go, Rank after rank, with even feet And uniforms of snow.

- A BOOK. - He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings, Was but a book. What liberty. A loosened spirit brings!

Her use of words is very vivid and pretty. I love the imagery.

[Byren Burdess · Rating 4 out of 5]

Was I inspired by Taylor Swift to read Emily Dickinson? Maybe. You will never know for sure. -
I've been reading poetry on my phone instead of doom scrolling recently, ironically with morbid and doom filled poetry. Although, much of this collection is less bleak.
Decided to give these a go and will definitely be making my way through her other collections.

Here is one of her appropriately selected poems from this collection:

In a Library

A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.

His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;

What interested scholars most,
What competitions ran
When Plato was a certainty.
And Sophocles a man;

When Sappho was a living girl,
And Beatrice wore
The gown that Dante deified.
Facts, centuries before,

He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.

His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Yumiko Hansen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) was an American poet. She was born in Amherst and throughout her adult life she rarely travelled very far from home. Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence. She was a prolific private poet, choosing to publish fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems. Her poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often utilize slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation. Her poems also tend to deal with themes of death and immortality.

I have never been much into poetry as, for me, it is a big challenge so hoping to start reading more and always trying to broaden my views on reading.

[Tanvi Agarwal · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book with Three Series of her poetry. The poems about love, death and nature.

The entire book was based on love, death and nature. I saw how beautifully seasons, were expressed and personification of flower, tree etc held me tight while I was reading this book. I loved the style and the raw material by Emily Dickinson. Though she could not publish herself but her friends have done a great job by bringing the charm of poetry before us by compiling all her available poems after she died to show the world the elegancy of her work.

When I was reading I was wondering how different topics of poetry in same category could be generated, but reading one after other poem it felt hilarious. You could find different poems on "March" with a variety. Similarly welcoming season and complaining to season.

To all the poetry lovers to taste the verses and improve your writing try this book out you will definitely fall in love with the book.