Poems by Emily Dickinson

Many poems by Emily Dickinson were found after Emily died. Most poems by Emily Dickinson were found in her room by her sister, Lavinia. Lavinia was astonished by the poems by Emily Dickinson, who had always kept quiet about it.

Publishing poems by Emily Dickinson after her death

After Emily Dickinson 's death her sister Lavinia, with the help of a friend, dedicated herself to publishing the poems written by Emily Dickinson. The poems by Emily Dickinson were successful. And from that point on Emily Dickinson joined the ranks of the world's most influential poets. With Walt Whitman, she is the leading poet of 19th century America - a period that has been called the American Literary Renaissance. Many poets and scholars have been trying to compare Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman poems.

The great poet and Emily Dickinson poems

Emily Dickinson had a rare gift that, like many gifts, exacted a special price. Emily Dickinson seemed to have emotional responses to people and life that were so deep and acute, they were difficult to bear. Her feelings were more intense then most; her awareness more enhanced. And although this is what empowered her writing, it is also what gave even the most ordinary experiences an emotional charge that drained her vital energy. Instinctively, she did what was necessary to protect herself.

Her view on fame was clearly stated in one of her most famous verses:

"I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! They'd advertise - you know!

How dreary to be somebody
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!"

In spite of her reclusive life, Emily Dickinson was no stranger to suffering. Emily Dickinson had deep insight into the process of human loss and pain, as evidenced in one of her most famous Emily Dickinson poems, which describes the great void that descends after one has experienced an emotional or spiritual death.

"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 a Chill - then Stupor - then the letting go."