DELIGHTFUL SATURDAYS WITH MY FAVORITE AUTHORS AND POETS

EMILY DICKINSON

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was an American poet born on December 10, 1830 at Amherst, Massachusetts, U.S. She is one of the greatest figures in American poetry. She attended the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she briefly joined the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning home to Amherst.

Dickinson preferred to live alone and avoided interacting with people as much as possible. She preferred wearing white clothes and rarely stepped out of her room. She never married and most of her friendships were through correspondence. It’s surprising to note that only 10 of her nearly 1,800 poems were published, and one letter.

Her writing style was quite unique. She used short lines, typically lacking titles, and often used slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation. Her poems were published with many edits. Death and immortality were the predominant theme of her poems. She also wrote on aesthetics, society, nature and spirituality. (Wikipedia).

Her poems:

1890
Two Butterflies went out at Noon— (533)
1890
One day is there of the series
1890
We never know how high we are
1890
A lane of Yellow led the eye
1951
There’s a certain Slant of light
1890
I like to see it lap the Miles
1890
Luck is not chance
2016
The Soul has Bandaged moments
1861
Wild Nights—Wild Nights!
1890
Knows how to forget!
1896
XLV [Before the ice is in the pools]
1890
The Savior must have been a docile Gentleman
1890
A Drop fell on the Apple Tree
2020
That is solemn we have ended
1890
Like Brooms of Steel
1890
Besides the Autumn poets sing
1890
A Bird came down the Walk
1891
A Day
1951
The Soul unto itself
1860
If I should die
1890
It’s all I have to bring today
1890
Luck is not chance
2016
The Soul has Bandaged moments
1861
Wild Nights—Wild Nights!
1890
Knows how to forget!
1896
XLV [Before the ice is in the pools]
(Source: Poets.org)

These are some of her poems. It includes those which have been published posthumously.
The list is quite long and due to time constraint, I was unable to include everything.

Here is one of her poems:
Published in 1890 (Poets.org)
Dear March—Come in—

Dear March—Come in—
How glad I am—
I hoped for you before—
Put down your Hat—
You must have walked—
How out of Breath you are—
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest—
Did you leave Nature well—
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me—
I have so much to tell—

I got your Letter, and the Birds—
The Maples never knew that you were coming—
I declare – how Red their Faces grew—
But March, forgive me—
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue—
There was no Purple suitable—
You took it all with you—

Who knocks? That April—
Lock the Door—
I will not be pursued—
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied—
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame—

She passed away on May 15, 1886 (aged 55)
Amherst, Massachusetts, U.S. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t survive to see her published poems.

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