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  1. Here we find Dickinson writing a different form of love poem: it’s a poem about erotic desire, as the critic Helen Vendler notes in her study of Dickinson’s poetry, but it’s addressed to herself. At least, kind of. The poet regards her face ‘imperfectly’ in the mirror while she wears a veil.

  2. This poignant poem explores the complexities of love and the sacrifices it sometimes entails. Dickinson contemplates the idea of living together and acknowledges the obstacles that prevent it. The metaphor of life as a porcelain cup, discarded or replaced, reflects the fragile nature of relationships. The longing and pain expressed in the lines ...

    • Wild nights – Wild nights! This poem is one of Dickinson’s most famous. It is focused on sea imagery, which is used as a metaphor to depict passion and desire.
    • If I can stop one heart from breaking. In this beautiful, very short poem, Dickinson’s speaker expresses a love for all human beings and a desire to help in any way that she can.
    • I gave myself to him. ‘I gave myself to him’ is an atypical love poem in which the speaker outlines her feelings through unusual financial language. This choice allows Dickinson to depict what the relationship was like, how it was one thing for another, without true love between the two.
    • I’m “wife” – I’ve finished that. In this poem, Dickinson explores personal themes, including those of independence, society, and womanhood. In the text, she goes into what the differences are between a woman’s life and the life of a woman who has become a wife.
  3. Unable are the Loved to die. Into Divinity. Analysis (ai): This poem explores the enduring nature of love, suggesting that love is not subject to the constraints of mortality. The speaker asserts that the loved cannot truly die because love itself isimmortal, even divine. Love has the power to transform the very essence of life, elevating it to ...

    • “Hope” Is The Thing with Feathers
    • Because I Could Not Stop For Death
    • I Dreaded That First Robin
    • If I Should Die
    • We Grow Accustomed to The Dark
    • While We Were Fearing It, It Came—
    • Why Do I Love You, Sir?
    • I Had No Time to Hate, Because
    • If You Were Coming in The Fall

    “Hope” is the thing with feathers — That perches in the soul — And sings the tune without the words — And never stops — at all — And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard — And sore must be the storm — That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm — I’ve heard it in the chillest land — And on the strangest Sea — Yet — never — in Extremity, It...

    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...

    I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I’m some accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though— I thought if I could only live Till that first Shout got by— Not all Pianos in the Woods Had power to mangle me— I dared not meet the Daffodils— For fear their Yellow Gown Would pierce me with a fashion So foreign to my own— I wishe...

    If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam— And noon should burn— As it has usual done— If Birds should build as early And Bees as bustling go— One might depart at option From enterprise below! ’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with Daisies lie— That Commerce will continue— And Trades as br...

    We grow accustomed to the Dark— When light is put away— As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Goodbye—A Moment—We uncertain step For newness of the night— Then—fit our Vision to the Dark— And meet the Road—erect—And so of larger—Darkness— Those Evenings of the Brain— When not a Moon disclose a sign— Or Star—come out—within— The Bravest...

    While we were fearing it, it came— But came with less of fear Because that fearing it so long Had almost made it fair—There is a Fitting—a Dismay— A Fitting—a Despair ’Tis harder knowing it is Due Than knowing it is Here.They Trying on the Utmost The Morning it is new Is Terribler than wearing it A whole existence through. . . . . . . . . . . .

    “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Grass To answer—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place. Because He knows—and Do not You— And We know not— Enough for Us The Wisdom it be so— The Lightning—never asked an Eye Wherefore it shut—when He was by— Because He knows it cannot speak— And reasons not contained— —Of Ta...

    I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, Was large enough for me. . . . . . . . . . . .

    If you were coming in the fall,, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year, I’d wind the months in balls, And put them each in separate drawers, Until their time befalls. If only centuries delayed, I’d count them on my hand, Subtracting till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen’s l...

  4. Dec 10, 2018 · By Maria Popova. Four months before her twentieth birthday, Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830–May 15, 1886) met the person who became her first love and remained her greatest — an orphaned mathematician-in-training by the name of Susan Gilbert, nine days her junior. Throughout the poet’s life, Susan would be her muse, her mentor, her ...

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  6. Jul 1, 2016 · 3. ‘ Hope is the thing with feathers ’. ‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –. That perches in the soul –. And sings the tune without the words –. And never stops – at all –. In this poem, Dickinson likens hope to a singing bird, a ‘thing with feathers’ which ‘perches in the soul’.