Dying

POL

The sun kept setting, setting still;
No hue of afternoon
Upon the village I perceived —
From house to house, ’t was noon.

The dusk kept dropping, dropping still;
No dew upon the grass,
But only on my forehead stopped,
And wandered in my face.

My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still,
My fingers were awake;
Yet why so little sound myself
Unto my seeming make?

How well I knew the light before!
I could not see it now.
’T is dying, I am doing; but
I’m not afraid to know.

First print Time and Eternity XXV, 25
Johnson 692 | Franklin 715

Text compared with the fascicle and prepared for publication by Teresa Pelka, available under any of the following licenses: Creative Commons License 4.0, BY-SA 3.0, and License 2.5.

Dash alone for thematic development, cf. Notes, for The Outlet.
Poems, first print by Higginson and Todd, page 136;
Google Drive, manuscript fascicles;
Poems one-by-one print and fascicle comparison,
Resource for Emily Dickinson’s poetry.

* * * * *
If her skill was taken for supernatural, the world may never have seen her original handwriting. Feel welcome to Poems by Emily Dickinson prepared for print by Teresa Pelka: thematic stanzas, notes on the Greek and Latin inspiration, the correlative with Webster 1828, and the Aristotelian motif, Things perpetual — these are not in time, but in eternity.
Electronic format $2.99
E-book | NOOK Book | Kindle
Soft cover, 260 pages, $16.89
Amazon | Barnes & Noble
Hard cover, 260 pages, $21.91
Barnes & Noble | Lulu, full preview

The enclosed piece-by-piece analysis works a criterion to embrace the epsilon, predicate structure, vowel contour, phonemics, person reference in abstract thought, and altogether stylistic coherence. The result supports doubt on fascicle originality. There always is the simple question as well: do we believe Emily Dickinson tried to tell about very exceptional Bees, Ears, or Birds, so peculiar that you write them with capital letters?
* * * * *