Alfred Noyes The author of many collections of poetry, Alfred Noyes was highly influenced by the Romantic In , he Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter. Teach This Poem. Follow Us. Find Poets. Poetry Near You. Jobs for Poets. Read Stanza. Privacy Policy. Press Center. First Book Award. 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 —.
Feels shorter than the Day. Were toward Eternity —. It metaphorically describes hope as a bird that rests in the soul, sings continuously and never demands anything even in the direst circumstances. 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 —. And on the strangest Sea —. Yet — never — in Extremity,. Or perhaps she feared editorial input because she had already been stung. So the abandon of this celebrated Dickinson love poem is not out of place and can be read for what it is: a passionate, exuberant and loving cry from the heart. The poem has the trademark up-note ending, so that the reader must guess where the breakdown leads to — the heaven of well-being, or the hell of continued mental anguish.
There is a theory that Dickinson, like her nephew Ned, was epileptic; she definitely suffered eye trouble and, as we know, she had agoraphobic tendencies. Any of these, or just plain old depression, might have sparked this poem.
Who are you? The narrator may be nobody but she makes herself somebody with that capital N. Here is another poem about notoriety and the public eye. This is one that appealed hugely to me as a child for its cheekiness and for that unexpected frog. This is my favourite Emily Dickinson poem. Its warmth and positivity speak to my gut every time. Was she qualifying hope in some private way? This is a poem I studied at school at about the age of ten. Dickinson valued the musicality of words and she loved a hymnal beat.
However, as Cristanne Miller writes in Reading in Time: Emily Dickinson and the Nineteenth Century , Emily Dickinson experimented with a variety of metrical and stanzaic forms, including short meter and the ballad stanza, which depends more on beats per line usually 4 alternating with 3 than on exact syllable counts.
Dickinson most often punctuated her poems with dashes, rather than the more expected array of periods, commas, and other punctuation marks.
She also capitalized interior words, not just words at the beginning of a line. Her reasons are not entirely clear. In addition, the dash was liberally used by many writers, as correspondence from the mid-nineteenth-century demonstrates.
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