How does one write death?

: Three Poems by Emily Dickinson

ENGL 1123
Week 3 Course Readings

*You can write Essay #1 on any of these poems.

“I never hear that one is dead”

Emily Dickinson

I never hear that one is dead

Without the chance of Life
Afresh annihilating me
That mightiest Belief,

Too mighty for the Daily mind

That tilling it’s abyss,
Had Madness, had it once or, Twice
The yawning Consciousness,

Beliefs are Bandaged, like the Tongue

When Terror were it told
In any Tone commensurate
Would strike us instant Dead -

I do not know the man so bold

He dare in lonely Place
That awful stranger - Consciousness
Deliberately face -

MLA Citation:
Dickinson, Emily. “I Never Hear that One is Dead.” The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Variorum
Edition. Harvard University Press, 1998.
“Because I could not stop for Death”
Emily Dickinson

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 –

MLA Citation:
Dickinson, Emily. “Because I Could Not Stop for Death.” The Poems of Emily Dickinson:
Variorum Edition. Harvard University Press, 1998.
“It was not Death, for I stood up,”
Emily Dickinson

It was not Death, for I stood up,

And all the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh

I felt Siroccos - crawl -
Nor Fire - for just my marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool -

And yet, it tasted, like them all,

The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial
Reminded me, of mine -

As if my life were shaven,

And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some -

When everything that ticked - has stopped -

And space stares - all around -
Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground -

But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -

Without a Chance, or spar -
Or even a Report of Land -
To justify - Despair.

MLA Citation:
Dickinson, Emily. “It was Not Death, for I stood up.” The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Variorum
Edition. Harvard University Press, 1998.