Emily Dickinson

Poem # 328

A BIRD came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew	5
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,—	10
They looked like frightened beads, I thought
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers	15
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.	20

Poem # 341

After great pain a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

Poem # 435

MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority In this, as all, prevails. Assent, and you are sane; Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous, And handled with a chain.
	5

Poem # 585

I LIKE to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step
Around a pile of mountains,	5
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties by the sides of roads;
And then a quarry pare
To fit its sides, and crawl between,
Complaining all the while	10
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down hill
And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as a star,
Stop—docile and omnipotent—	15
At its own stable door.

Poem # 258

There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.

Emily Dickinson additional poems

A narrow fellow in the grass

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 child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,
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.

My life closed twice before its close

My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

There is no frigate like a book

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

This is my letter to the world

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,--
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!

Some Keep the Sabbath by Going to Church

SOME keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;	5
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.
God preaches,—a noted clergyman,—
And the sermon is never long;	10
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I ’m going all along!

I cannot live with you

(In Vain)                    

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

The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.

I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down,
You could not.

And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus',
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.

They'd judge us-how?
For you served Heaven, you know,
Or sought to;
I could not,

Because you saturated sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.

And were you lost, I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.

And were you saved,
And I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.

So we must keep apart,
You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
And prayer,
And that pale sustenance,
Despair!

An Example of a Literary Analysis/Explication—from CUNY

A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.

And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,--
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home

Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.

The speaker observes the bird and tries to establish contact with the bird by offering it food. The bird flies off. A few of the speaker's details describe the bird as a wild creature in nature, and more details present his behavior and his appearance in terms of human behavior.

Stanza one

Because the bird does not know the speaker is present, he behaves naturally, that is, his behavior is not affected by her presence. We see the bird's "wildness" or non-humanness in his biting the worm in half and eating it. "Raw" continues to emphasize his wildness. Ironically the word "raw" carries an implication of civilized values and practices ("raw" implicitly contrasts with cooked food). Why mention that the bird ate the worm raw? Would you expect the bird to cook the worm? In contrast, the fact that the bird "came" down the walk sounds civilized, socialized.  Does this description sound like someone walking on a sidewalk?

Stanza two

The birds' drinking dew (note the alliteration) suggests a certain refinement, and "from a grass" makes the action resemble the human action of drinking from a glass. And the bird politely allows a beetle to pass.

Stanza three

In lines one and two, the description of the bird's looking around is factual description and suggests the bird's caution and fear, as well as a possible threat in nature. With lines three and four, the speaker describes the bird in terms of civilization, with "beads" and "velvet."

Stanza four

The idea of danger in nature is made explicit but remains a minor note in this stanza and in the poem. It occupies only half a line, "Like one in danger." "Cautious," the speaker offers the crumb. How is "cautious " meant? Does the speaker feel the need to be cautious? or does she offer the crumb cautiously? (One of the characteristics of Dickinson's poetry is a tendency to drop endings as well as connecting words and phrases; you have to decide whether she has dropped the -ly ending from "cautious.")

Her action causes the bird to fly off. Her description of his flight details his beauty and the grace of his flight, a description which takes six lines. Does the idea of danger or of the bird's beauty receive more emphasis, or are the danger and the beauty emphasized equally? Does it matter in this poem whether one receives more emphasis than the other, that is, would the different emphases affect the meaning of the poem?

I am suggesting that this poem reveals both the danger and the beauty of nature. Does the poem support this reading? What might Dickinson's purpose be in having the narrator see the bird in "civilized" terms? Is it a way of pushing away or of controlling the threat and terrors that are always present and may suddenly appear in nature?