Emily Dickinson


Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts. Although part of a prominent family with strong ties to its community, Dickinson lived much of her life in reclusive isolation. After studying at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she briefly attended the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Considered an eccentric by locals, she developed a noted penchant for white clothing and became known for her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, to even leave her bedroom. Dickinson never married, and most friendships between her and others depended entirely upon correspondence. Dickinson was a recluse for the later years of her life.

While Dickinson was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime.The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time. Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.[4] Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.

Although Dickinson's acquaintances were most likely aware of her writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Dickinson's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of her work became apparent to the public. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, though both heavily edited the content. A complete, and mostly unaltered, collection of her poetry became available for the first time when scholar Thomas H. Johnson published The Poems of Emily Dickinson in 1955. Despite some unfavorable reception and skepticism over the late 19th and early 20th centuries regarding her literary prowess, Dickinson is now almost universally considered to be one of the most significant of all American poets.


埃米莉·伊丽莎白·狄更生(Emily Elizabeth Dickinson,又译艾弥莉‧狄瑾荪或艾米莉·狄金森,1830年12月10日-1886年5月15日),美国诗人。诗风凝炼,比喻尖新,常置格律以至语法于不顾。生前只发表过10首诗,默默无闻,死后近70年开始得到文学界的认真关注,被现代派诗人追认为先驱。与同时代的惠特曼,一同被奉为美国最伟大诗人,后世对她的诗艺、恋爱生活、性取向多有揣测。





I like to see it lap the Miles,  And lick the valleys up,  And stop to feed itself at tanks;  And then, prodigious, step &nbs...


To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,One clover, and a bee.And revery.The revery alone will do,If bees are few.


Hope is the thing with feathers  That perches in the soul,  And sings the tune without the words,  And never stops at all, &n...


I’m Nobody! Who are you?Are you – Nobody – too?Then there’s a pair of us!Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!How dreary – to be – Somebo...


THE sky is low, the clouds are mean,A travelling flake of snowAcross a barn or through a rutDebates if it will go.A narrow wind complains al...

A Bird came down the Walk—He did not know I saw—He bit an Angleworm in halvesAnd ate the fellow, raw,And then he drank a DewFrom a convenien...

Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me –  The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  And Immortality.We s...

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –  The Stillness in the RoomWas like the Stillness in the Air –  Between the Heaves of Storm –&nb...

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!Were I with theeWild Nights should beOur luxury!Futile – the winds –To a heart in port –Done with the compass –Don...

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,And Mourners to and froKept treading – treading – till it seemedThat Sense was breaking through –  And wh...
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