Emily Dickinson, Poet

Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886)

May 15^th, 2021 marks the 135^th anniversary of Dickinson’s death.

Here is one of her poems about Death, personified:

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 Gazing 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 Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –

Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited by R.W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)

I love the part about her gown and tippet, made of gossamer and tulle, and how reminiscent it is of fairy imagery.

If you like her poetry too, be sure to check out the Emily Dickinson Museum’s virtual poetry reading.