Emily

Correspondence with Emily

Introduction by Robert E. Kogan

The vast majority of Emily Dickinson’s (1830 – 1886) poetry was discovered after her death.  During her lifetime, it appears only seven of her poems were published, without her permission and with considerable editorial revisions.  Her sister found 1,775 of her pomes in a bureau drawer, and others were discovered in old letters she had written to friends.  Her poetry continued to be published from 1890 – 1955.  Not long ago, while looking over my scrapbook, I discovered some correspondence from Emily, and some poems I sent in relpy.

Dear Robert,

It’s such a little thing to weep,

So short a thing to sigh

And yet by trades the size of these

We mend and women die!

Love,

Emily

~

Dear Emily,

My life is measured out by sighs

And from tears I shed

So I seek comfort from my friends,

both the living, and the dead.

Love,

Robert

~

Parting

Dear Robert,

My life closed twice before its close,

It yet remains to see

If immortality unveil

A third event to me.

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,

As these that twice befell

Parting is all we know of heaven

And all we need of hell.

Love,

Emily

~

Dear Emily

Of all the sounds that I have heard,

The ones I most deplore

Are the footsteps from departing friends –

The closing of the door.

And your door closed before we met

To share our poetry.

But I find comfort in your words –

They keep my company.

Love,

Robert

~

Dear Robert,

I measure every Grief I meet

With narrow, probing, Eyes –

I wonder if It weighs like Mine –

Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long –

Or did it just begin –

I could not tell the Date of Mine –

It feels so old a pain –

I wonder if it hurts to live –

And if They have to try –

And whether – could They choose between –

It would not be – to die –

I note that Some – gone patient long –

At length, renew their smile –

An imitation of a Light

That has so little Oil –

I wonder if when Years have piled –

Some Thousands – on the Harm –

That hurt them early – such a lapse

Could give them any Balm –

Or would they go on aching still

Through Centuries of Nerve –

Enlightened to a larger Pain –

In Contrast with the Love –

The Grieved – are many – I am told –

There is the various Cause –

Death – is but one – and comes but once –

And only nails the eyes –

There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –

A sort they call "Despair" –

There's Banishment from native Eyes –

In Sight of Native Air –

And though I may not guess the kind –

Correctly – yet to me

A piercing Comfort it affords

In passing Calvary –

To note the fashions – of the Cross –

And how they're mostly worn –

Still fascinated to presume

That Some – are like My Own – Through Centuries of Nerve --

Enlightened to a larger Pain -

In Contrast with the Love --

The Grieved -- are many -- I am told --

There is the various Cause --

Death -- is but one -- and comes but once --

And only nails the eyes --

There's Grief of Want -- and Grief of Cold --

A sort they call "Despair" --

There's Banishment from native Eyes --

In sight of Native Air --

And though I may not guess the kind --

Correctly -- yet to me

A piercing Comfort it affords

In passing Calvary --

To note the fashions -- of the Cross --

And how they're mostly worn --

Still fascinated to presume

That Some -- are like My Own –

Love,

Emily

~

Dear Emily,

Your grief is but a friend of mine,

For I have known her well.

She rests within my mind,

And makes my life a living hell.

Tis said that time will heal all wounds –

And remove my sorrow,

Yet she resides within the rooms

I’ll enter in tomorrow.

I doubt that she would choose to leave.

She’s found a friend in me.

Her solitary purpose is

To keep me company.

And when I choose to take my leave

And bid a found farewell,

I fear that she will follow me

To heaven or to hell.

And much like Love, she’ll stay with me.

Always by my side.

For throughout all eternity

She’ll try to be my bride.

If death can come but only once,

Then let it be my fate

To find your soul waiting there

To join and be my mate.

The grief of want and grief of cold

Will always seek to reign.

Yet when your grief has merged with mine,

We will ignore the pain.

So wait for just a little while

Until we can commune

And share our souls through poetry,

For I am coming soon.

Love,

Robert

~

Dear Robert,

Heart, we will forget him!

You and I, tonight!

You may forget the warmth he gave,

I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me

That I my thoughts may dim;

Haste! lest while you're lagging.

I may remember him!

Love,

Emily

~

Dear Emily,

It’s easy to forget

A heart consumed by flame.

Experience is what’s left

Once you forget his name.

The heart will dim when thoughts of him

Belong to yesterday.

It may take years to dry your tears,

Before they fade away.

Love,

Robert

~

Dear Robert,

So proud she was to die

It made us all ashamed

That what we cherished, so unknown

To her desire seemed.

So satisfied to go

Where none of us should be,

Immediately, that anguish stooped

Almost to jealousy.

Love,

Emily

~

Dear Emily,

No need to cherish death.

So why seek martyrdom?

When all you have to do is live,

For death will surely come.

Be jealous of the living,

And of the life they led.

Celebrate each new tomorrow

When praying for the dead.

Love,

Robert