Emily Dickinson

We have been debating with ourselves whether to post this or not. We have finally reached the conclusion that we will, as you can see.

We like Emily Dickinson very, very much and today we commemorate her 120th death anniversary. Her life and poetry (and the discussion whether that new picture is really her or not) don't really belong in here. But she does, because she was one of the first Brontëites. She wrote this poem:




All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of 'Currer Bell,'
In quiet Haworth laid.

This bird, observing others,
When frosts too sharp became,
Retire to other latitudes,
Quietly did the same,

But differed in returning;
Since Yorkshire hills are green,
Yet not in all the nests I meet
Can nightingale be seen.

Gathered from many wanderings,
Gethsemane can tell
Through what transporting anguish
She reached the asphodel!

Soft fall the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear;
Oh, what an afternoon for heaven,
When 'Brontë' entered there!

And Emily Brontë's No Coward Soul is Mine was read during her funeral.

Categories: Reminder