Why You Should Read Emily Dickinson

As you grow up, one way of finding out who you are is discovering what you like to read.  On this journey, you may get many recommendations, ones that may include poets like Ralph Waldo Emerson or Sylvia Plath. But if you don’t know about the lovely human being that is Emily Dickinson, I encourage you to experience the craziness.

Dickinson is praised as one of the United States’ greatest poets, one who left an indelible impression on American poetry. She was born in 1830 and lived quite an interesting life, wonderfully summarized by Poetry Foundation. But part of the reason I love her poetry is that you don’t need to know about her life to understand it; in fact, knowing less can yield more, particularly when it comes to the bewitchment of her words. 

Dickinson’s poems are defined by their chaos and magic. They include what seems to be needless Capitalization to emphasize Significance, metaphors and similes that make almost no Sense, and a rhyme scheme that ties it all back together—I cannot properly emphasize the Magnificence. They are short and observational in a way that feels like a really good book condensed into a few simple sentences. But, most of all, Dickinson’s poems create a refuge when you need to flee from any and everything in the real world. Some of her most famous poems are centered around nature, and one I would love to share with you is referred to as “A Bird, came down the Walk,” or number 359. Its title is the first line of the poem, like most of her work, and creates a beautiful scene out of what some might consider a mundane experience:

A Bird, came down the Walk - 

He did not know I saw -

He bit an Angle Worm in halves

And ate the fellow, raw, 

And then, he drank a Dew

From a convenient Grass -

And then hopped sidewise to the Wall

To let a Beetle pass -

He glanced with rapid eyes,

That hurried all abroad -

They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,

He stirred his Velvet Head. - 

Like one in danger, Cautious,

I offered him a Crumb,

And he unrolled his feathers, 

And rowed him softer Home -

Than Oars divide the Ocean,

Too silver for a seam,

Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,

Leap, plashless as they swim. 

(Source)

If you are more interested in a whimsical ride, however, I invite you to read another of Dickinson’s famous poems, “Because I could not stop for Death” (number 479). It serves as a prime example of her fantasy writing that doesn’t center around nature. It is a wonderful romp with Dickinson and Death as they parade and embrace what is usually shunned.

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)

I will leave you, dear reader, with one last poem that showcases what a marvel Dickinson can be. “I dwell in Possibility” (number 466) is an ode to poetry that expresses how much fun a poem can have. It is a critique of prose in the fantastical way that defines Dickinson and leaves you wondering, “What more?” There is so much more should you discover it: letters, a museum, websites, so many books, a pretty good television show that does its best to illustrate her works, and many more poems. But without further ado–what will you do with Possibility?

I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –

Impregnable of eye –

And for an everlasting Roof

The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –

For Occupation – This –

The spreading wide my narrow Hands

To gather Paradise –

(Source)