Try an author, a thought, or a phrase in “quotes”.↑ ↓ Navigate · Esc Close

0 words found

Explore all results ↗
Emily Dickinson: Historical daguerreotypeHistorical daguerreotype

Emily Dickinson

Life dates: 1830 AD — 1886 AD

Poet of concentrated images and unsettled questions, whose preserved writing invites close reading. The linked early published series reflects editorial choices, rather than a modern manuscript-based edition.

▷ Play this voiceSearch these words ↗Place in time ↗lifelovetimeknowledgetruthdeathworkjustice

Life and writing

Emily Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, in 1830 and died in 1886. During the particularly active writing period identified by scholars as 1858–1865, she composed, revised and preserved hundreds of poems. Her writing continued later in life. Reading that record as an ongoing practice of revision helps resist treating every brief line as a final, self-contained rule for living.

The linked Poems, Three Series, Complete gathers early published versions. Its editorial note warns readers about changes made to Dickinson’s punctuation, and the first series names Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson as editors. The complete signed anthology selection chosen here offers a starting point for reading an entire poem. Keep that anthology wording distinct from this edition and from later manuscript-based scholarship.

Reading this voice

Read the selected poem aloud and notice how its repeated ending gathers the acts described in the intervening lines. Then read a whole poem in the linked collection, paying attention to punctuation, pauses and the speaking voice. A speaker in a poem is not automatically a biographical statement by the author. Most other entries under this identity come from the supplied quotation collection and remain independently unverified. Profile life years do not replace their undated source coordinates.

Subjects to explore

Words to begin with

Quotations and sayings

10c. 1858 AD
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,And Mourners to and froKept treading – treading – till it seemedThat Sense was breaking through – And when they all were seated,A Service, like a Drum – Kept beating – beating – till I thoughtMy Mind was going numb – And then I heard them lift a BoxAnd creak across my SoulWith 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 RaceWrecked, 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 –
↗