On episodes 18 & 19 of Creative Codex we explore The Enigma of Emily Dickinson. Below, you will find all of the poems which are featured in these episodes, presented according to their original Dickinson formatting.

Emily defied many conventions, one which is pertinent here: her poems lack titles. Instead, they are often referred to by their first lines and their chronology numbers. The chronology numbers seen here are the R.W. Franklin numbers (ex: A word is dead Fr278).

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

Fr278

The Soul selects her own Society —
Then — shuts the Door —
To her divine Majority —
Present no more —

Unmoved — she notes the Chariots — pausing —
At her low Gate —
Unmoved — an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat —

I’ve known her — from an ample nation —
Choose One —
Then — close the Valves of her attention —
Like Stone —

Fr409

This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me —
The simple News that Nature told —
With tender Majesty

Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see —
For love of Her — Sweet — countrymen —
Judge tenderly — of Me

Fr519

“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 asked a crumb — of me.

Fr314

Death is a dialogue between
The spirit and the dust.
“Dissolve,” says Death.  The Spirit, “Sir,
I have another trust.”

Death doubts it, argues from the ground.
The Spirit turns away,
Just laying off, for evidence,
An overcoat of clay.

Fr973

My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun —
In Corners — till a Day
The Owner passed — identified —
And carried Me away —

And now We roam in Sovereign Woods —
And now We hunt the Doe —
And every time I speak for Him —
The Mountains straight reply —

And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the Valley glow —
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through —

And when at Night — Our good Day done —
I guard My Master’s Head —
‘Tis better than the Eider-Duck’s
Deep Pillow — to have shared —

To foe of His — I’m deadly foe —
None stir the second time —
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye —
Or an emphatic Thumb —

Though I than He — may longer live
He longer must — than I —
For I have but the power to kill,
Without — the power to die —

Fr764

A still — Volcano — Life —
That flickered in the night —
When it was dark enough to do
Without erasing sight —

A quiet — Earthquake Style —
Too subtle to suspect
By natures this side Naples —
The North cannot detect

The Solemn — Torrid — Symbol —
The lips that never lie —
Whose hissing Corals part — and shut —
And Cities — ooze away —

Fr517

“Faith” is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!

Fr202

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church —
I keep it, staying at Home —
With a Bobolink for a Chorister —
And an Orchard, for a Dome —

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice —
I just wear my Wings —
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton — sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman —
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last —
I’m going, all along.

Fr236

The Brain — is wider than the Sky —
For — put them side by side —
The one the other will contain
With ease — and You — beside —

The Brain is deeper than the sea —
For — hold them — Blue to Blue —
The one the other will absorb —
As Sponges — Buckets — do —

The Brain is just the weight of God —
For — Heft them — Pound for Pound —
And they will differ — if they do —
As Syllable from Sound —

Fr598

Fame is a bee.
It has a song —
It has a sting —
Ah, too, it has a wing.

Fr1788

This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me —
The simple News that Nature told —
With tender Majesty

Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see —
For love of Her — Sweet — countrymen —
Judge tenderly — of Me

Fr519

The second existing photo of Emily Dickinson. Dated 1859. Emily sits on the left, and her friend, Kate Scott Turner, sits on the right.

A short ‘envelope poem’ that Emily wrote.

You can see the ‘stacking’ word method she uses to deliberate between word choices of ‘only’ and ‘merely’.

‘As old as Woe’ shown above with the shorthand editing techniques Emily would use.

As old as Woe —
How old is that?
Some eighteen thousand years —
As old as Bliss
How old is that
They are of equal years

Together chiefest they ard found
But seldom side by side
From neither of them tho’ he try
Can Human nature hide

Fr1259

Show me Eternity, and I will show you Memory —
Both in one package lain
And lifted back again —
Be Sue — while I am Emily —
Be next — what you have ever been — Infinity.

Fr1658

Susan Gilbert

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.

Fr1317

Emily’s bedroom.

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? —
Then crouch within the door —
Red — is the Fire’s common tint —
But when the vivid Ore

Has vanquished Flame’s conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.

Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil’s even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs — within —

Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge —

Fr401