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Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two
Dickinson, Emily
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Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two
Dickinson, Emily
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pubOne.info present you this new edition. The eagerness with which the first volume of Emily Dickinson's poems has been read shows very clearly that all our alleged modern artificiality does not prevent a prompt appreciation of the qualities of directness and simplicity in approaching the greatest themes, - life and love and death. That "e;irresistible needle-touch, "e; as one of her best critics has called it, piercing at once the very core of a thought, has found a response as wide and sympathetic as it has been unexpected even to those who knew best her compelling power. This second volume, while open to the same criticism as to form with its predecessor, shows also the same shining beauties.
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Information
Topic
LiteraturaSubtopic
PoesíaPREFACE
The eagerness with which the first volume of Emily
Dickinson's poems has been read shows very clearly that all our
alleged modern artificiality does not prevent a prompt appreciation
of the qualities of directness and simplicity in approaching the
greatest themes, — life and love and death. That “irresistible
needle-touch, ” as one of her best critics has called it, piercing
at once the very core of a thought, has found a response as wide
and sympathetic as it has been unexpected even to those who knew
best her compelling power. This second volume, while open to the
same criticism as to form with its predecessor, shows also the same
shining beauties.
Although Emily Dickinson had been in the habit of
sending occasional poems to friends and correspondents, the full
extent of her writing was by no means imagined by them. Her friend
“H. H. ” must at least have suspected it, for in a letter dated 5th
September, 1884, she wrote:—
MY DEAR FRIEND, — What portfolios full of verses you
must have! It is a cruel wrong to your “day and generation” that
you will not give them light.
If such a thing should happen as that I should
outlive you, I wish you would make me your literary legatee and
executor. Surely after you are what is called “dead” you will be
willing that the poor ghosts you have left behind should be cheered
and pleased by your verses, will you not? You ought to be. I do not
think we have a right to withhold from the world a word or a
thought any more than a deed which might help a single soul. . .
.
Truly yours,
HELEN JACKSON.
The “portfolios” were found, shortly after Emily
Dickinson's death, by her sister and only surviving housemate. Most
of the poems had been carefully copied on sheets of note-paper, and
tied in little fascicules, each of six or eight sheets. While many
of them bear evidence of having been thrown off at white heat,
still more had received thoughtful revision. There is the frequent
addition of rather perplexing foot-notes, affording large choice of
words and phrases. And in the copies which she sent to friends,
sometimes one form, sometimes another, is found to have been used.
Without important exception, her friends have generously placed at
the disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her;
and these have given the obvious advantage of comparison among
several renderings of the same verse.
To what further rigorous pruning her verses would
have been subjected had she published them herself, we cannot know.
They should be regarded in many cases as merely the first strong
and suggestive sketches of an artist, intended to be embodied at
some time in the finished picture.
Emily Dickinson appears to have written her first
poems in the winter of 1862. In a letter to one of the present
Editors the April following, she says, “I made no verse, but one or
two, until this winter. ”
The handwriting was at first somewhat like the
delicate, running Italian hand of our elder gentlewomen; but as she
advanced in breadth of thought, it grew bolder and more abrupt,
until in her latest years each letter stood distinct and separate
from its fellows. In most of her poems, particularly the later
ones, everything by way of punctuation was discarded, except
numerous dashes; and all important words began with capitals. The
effect of a page of her more recent manuscript is exceedingly
quaint and strong. The fac-simile given in the present volume is
from one of the earlier transition periods. Although there is
nowhere a date, the handwriting makes it possible to arrange the
poems with general chronologic accuracy.
As a rule, the verses were without titles; but “A
Country Burial, ” “A Thunder-Storm, ” “The Humming-Bird, ” and a
few others were named by their author, frequently at the end, —
sometimes only in the accompanying note, if sent to a friend.
The variation of readings, with the fact that she
often wrote in pencil and not always clearly, have at times thrown
a good deal of responsibility upon her Editors. But all
interference not absolutely inevitable has been avoided. The very
roughness of her rendering is part of herself, and not lightly to
be touched; for it seems in many cases that she intentionally
avoided the smoother and more usual rhymes.
Like impressionist pictures, or Wagner's rugged
music, the very absence of conventional form challenges attention.
In Emily Dickinson's exacting hands, the especial, intrinsic
fitness of a particular order of words might not be sacrificed to
anything virtually extrinsic; and her verses all show a strange
cadence of inner rhythmical music. Lines are always daringly
constructed, and the “thought-rhyme” appears frequently, —
appealing, indeed, to an unrecognized sense more elusive than
hearing.
Emily Dickinson scrutinized everything with
clear-eyed frankness. Every subject was proper ground for
legitimate study, even the sombre facts of death and burial, and
the unknown life beyond. She touches these themes sometimes
lightly, sometimes almost humorously, more often with weird and
peculiar power; but she is never by any chance frivolous or
trivial. And while, as one critic has said, she may exhibit toward
God “an Emersonian self-possession, ” it was because she looked
upon all life with a candor as unprejudiced as it is rare.
She had tried society and the world, and found them
lacking. She was not an invalid, and she lived in seclusion from no
love-disappointment. Her life was the normal blossoming of a nature
introspective to a high degree, whose best thought could not exist
in pretence.
Storm, wind, the wild March sky, sunsets and dawns;
the birds and bees, butterflies and flowers of her garden, with a
few trusted human friends, were sufficient companionship. The
coming of the first robin was a jubilee beyond crowning of monarch
or birthday of pope; the first red leaf hurrying through “the
altered air, ” an epoch. Immortality was close about her; and while
never morbid or melancholy, she lived in its presence.
MABEL LOOMIS TODD.
AMHERST, MASSACHUSETTS,
August, 1891.
My nosegays are for captives;
Dim, long-expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
Patient till paradise,
To such, if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.
I.
LIFE.
I.
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there 's a pair of us — don't tell!
They 'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
II.
I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching, next to mine,
And summon them to drink.
Crackling with fever, they essay;
I turn my brimming eyes away,
And come next hour to look.
The hands still hug the tardy glass;
The lips I would have cooled, alas!
Are so superfluous cold,
I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.
Some other thirsty there may be
To whom this would have pointed me
Had it remained to speak.
And so I always bear the cup
If, haply, mine may be the drop
Some pilgrim thirst to slake, —
If, haply, any say to me,
“Unto the little, unto me, ”
When I at last awake.
III.
The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.
The heaven we chase
Like the June bee
Before the school-boy
Invites the race;
Stoops to an easy clover —
Dips — evades — teases — deploys;
Then to the royal clouds
Lifts his light pinnace
Heedless of the boy
Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.
Homesick for steadfast honey,
Ah! the bee flies not
That brews that rare variety.
IV.
We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though, were similar...
Table of contents
- POEMS
- PREFACE
- I.
- II.
- III.
- IV.
- V.
- VI.
- VII.
- VIII.
- IX.
- X.
- XI.
- XII.
- XIII.
- XIV.
- XV.
- XVI.
- XVII.
- XVIII.
- XIX.
- XX.
- XXI.
- XXII.
- XXIII.
- XXIV.
- XXV.
- XXVI.
- XXVII.
- XXVIII.
- XXIX.
- XXX.
- XXXI.
- XXXII.
- XXXIII.
- XXXIV.
- XXXV.
- XXXVI.
- XXXVII.
- XXXVIII.
- XXXIX.
- XL.
- XLI.
- XLII.
- XLIII.
- XLIV.
- XLV.
- XLVI.
- XLVII.
- XLVIII.
- XLIX.
- L.
- LI.
- LII.
- LIII.
- LIV.
- LV.
- LVI.
- LVII.
- II.
- II.
- III.
- IV.
- V.
- VI.
- VII.
- VIII.
- IX.
- X.
- XI.
- XII.
- XIII.
- XIV.
- XV.
- XVI.
- III.
- II.
- III.
- IV.
- V.
- VI.
- VII.
- VIII.
- IX.
- X.
- XI.
- XII.
- XIII.
- XIV.
- XV.
- XVI.
- XVII.
- XVIII.
- XIX.
- XX.
- XXI.
- XXII.
- XXIII.
- XXIV.
- XXV.
- XXVI.
- XXVII.
- XXVIII.
- XXIX.
- XXX.
- XXXI.
- XXXII.
- XXXIII.
- XXXIV.
- XXXV.
- XXXVI.
- XXXVII.
- XXXVIII.
- XXXIX.
- XL.
- XLI.
- XLII.
- XLIII.
- XLIV.
- XLV.
- XLVI.
- XLVII.
- XLVIII.
- XLIX.
- L.
- LI.
- IV.
- II.
- III.
- IV.
- V.
- VI.
- VII.
- VIII.
- IX.
- X.
- XI.
- XII.
- XIII.
- XIV.
- XV.
- XVI.
- XVII.
- XVIII.
- XIX.
- XX.
- XXI.
- XXII.
- XXIII.
- XXIV.
- XXV.
- XXVI.
- XXVII.
- XXVIII.
- XXIX.
- XXX.
- XXXI.
- XXXII.
- XXXIII.
- XXXIV.
- XXXV.
- XXXVI.
- XXXVII.
- XXXVIII.
- XXXIX.
- XL.
- XLI.
- XLII.
- Copyright
Citation styles for Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two
APA 6 Citation
Dickinson, & Emily. (2010). Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two ([edition unavailable]). Pub One Info. Retrieved from https://www.perlego.com/book/1281838/poems-by-emily-dickinson-series-two-pdf (Original work published 2010)
Chicago Citation
Dickinson, and Emily. (2010) 2010. Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two. [Edition unavailable]. Pub One Info. https://www.perlego.com/book/1281838/poems-by-emily-dickinson-series-two-pdf.
Harvard Citation
Dickinson and Emily (2010) Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two. [edition unavailable]. Pub One Info. Available at: https://www.perlego.com/book/1281838/poems-by-emily-dickinson-series-two-pdf (Accessed: 14 October 2022).
MLA 7 Citation
Dickinson, and Emily. Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two. [edition unavailable]. Pub One Info, 2010. Web. 14 Oct. 2022.