Emily Dickinson, Letters to Thomas Wentworth Higginson, 1862 “You thik ny pi paso Ta in danger se Youthink me ‘aocoal! Tha otra Emi Diiason, born oo Amber Massachiet, wa mila wit nd had ead Earn, Key ‘Broo thagh she never ed Lavo of Goal thats dgrcta) Achar often been vated, Dickman nto ‘worker anal of proody. Her por ae ply writen in commen Inlnd meter of serating furan thee stress perbn,Yerthe ier ‘esshe ok in end-yne vill the le, creating weeping of pouty fr fore poets Her frre ofthe da for dat ct Sndherunsitemasewe of cptlzation were engin nd drama that er et pblkeninsating her respon Thoma Wentworth "igison—change then cote to ace we Except for few anonymous pos, Dickson wrk remained unpubl a er iime. Here, Lavinia der th mot teuneo 75 cael wrapped pots a Dickinson desth in, ‘nu si lume wa printed in, flowed by moe Twat ‘nti when Hare bought all sulle mami, atthe complet and orginal poe ete aed Th 86—the sae yea she note 3 poema!—Dickinsn set Hig zon young wer athe Aone Mow «poems a ‘nga erry comemondence ht wold at tlhe death. Here te ‘fo leer hat pote * Selected Letters to Thomas Wentworth Higginson 1 Api 62 Mr Higginson, ‘Are you t0 deeply ocupied wo sy if my Vee alve? The Minis 0 near elit eannot se, dntincth—and Ihave none oak Should you think ie breathed-—aod had you dhe Ieisre to tl ny 1 should fel quick gratrude— 1 make the misake—dhat you dared to tel ae—would give me sin- cere honor—toward yon Tenclove my aie—asking you, iyo please—Sie—t el ne what ie "That you will aot betray seis needles to atksince Honoris own pawn— * a Api 862 Mi Higginson, Your kindest climed ear grttade—b Iwas land write tor uy, Bn ay pillow “Thank you forthe surgery—it was nots painfl as T supped bing you others you ark—though they might not differ— ‘While my thoughts undressed—I can maketh distinction, but when | put them inthe Gowr-they lookalike, and nab "Yow ake ow ld was? made no verse—but one of two vat hi winter—Bie— Thad terrar—since Septetnber—I could tell to none—and sing the Boy does by the Burying Ground—because Tam afid—You i {ui my Books For Poetr—1 have Keate—and Mr and Mrs Browning, For Prose—Mer Raskin—Sir Thomas Browne-—and the Revelations. I went to school—but in your manner ofthe phrase—had no education, ‘When litle Gi Thad fend eho taught me Immeotlgy—but ven ‘uring too nea, hele never retune—Soon afte, ny Tutor died and for several years, my Lexcon-—wae my only companion—Then 1 found one more—but he was not contented Ibe his scolar—so he eft the Land "You ak of my Companions HilSir—and the Sundown—and a Doge—lage a8 mel that my Father ought me—They are beter than Beinge-becase they know—but donot tl—and the noise ia che Poa at Noon—exeds my Piano, Ihave a Brother and Siste—My Mother does not care fr thought —and Fates, too busy with his Breet rotce what we de—He buys me many Books—buc begs me no to red theny—becae he fate they jog the Mind. They ae religour—except Lanes Hig Mge~and addres an Elipne, every mocning—hom they ell hee ‘her But fee my story Fntigaes you] would Ue len —Could yy tell me how to row oe eunconveyed-ike Melody—oe Wither "You speak of Mr Whitman--I never read ie Book but wi ol he wa yrs Tread Miss Prescott “Circumstance,” but it followed me, inthe ack Lavided he sed me for my Mind-and when I ssked dhe “Why they aid pemoriour—ad they, woud use forthe Warld— Toul aot weigh msel—Mye— (Msi fl small me—T rea your Chapters inte Aaic— an ceesicnced honor for your was sute you would not eta confi ‘esto Ts thie~Sir—what you ake me wel you? Your fiend, E~Diekison. * hime 6 eae end ‘Your ter give no Drunkenness, becuse usted Rum before Domingo comes but once—yet Ihave had few pleasures 9 deep a8 your opinion, and tried to thank you, my ears wold lock my tongue My diag Toor tld me tha he wou keto lie til Thad been x poe, but Death vas mck of Mob rT could maste-—then—And whet fa afterwards sudden light on Orchards, one fshion inthe wind ‘would my atention—I ft pay, here—the Vee jst reeves "Your second leer suprised me, and fora moment, swunge—T had not supped it Your fint—-gave no dthonor, becuse the Trae—ate not ‘shamed—T thanked you for your usice—baceould not drop the Bel whos jnging cooled my Tramp—Pechaps the Bal, seemed beter, be- ‘se you bled me, “smi when you siggert tat I delay “to pbk" being feign omy thought, a Flemament 19 Fa fame belonged to me, T cook! not espe her—i she didnot he 110 # Bly Disinon longest day would past me on the chase—and the approbation of ey Dog, would forsake ine—thenr—My Bacefoot-Rank is beter — You think my gait "spssmdic™Tam in danger—Sir— You think me “uncontoled™—I have no Teta Would you have time t be the “end” you should tink Y need? 1 havea ie shape—it would not crowd your Desk—noe make mich Racket athe Mowe that dents our Galees— IFT might vig you what I donot so frequent to trouble youand key fT tol it lear" be congo, to me— “The Sailor cannot se the Norbu knows the Needle can— ‘The “hand you strech me in the Dark,” I put mine in and en say I have 90 Sexo, 209 Asif asked acommon Alms, ‘Aad in my wondering hand ‘ASuaogerpresed a Kingdoms, ‘Ad I elder and ‘Asif sad the Ost Had cfr me « Morn ‘Avid i should itis purple Dike ‘And shater me with Da! Bus, will you be my receptor Mr Higgison? You fiend E Dickinson * July 62 (Could you belive me—withou® Thad no potato; but a smal, ke the Wren and my Hari bld ike the Chest Buran mye, ike the Shee inthe Glas, ha the Guest eaves Would ths do arta wel? "oem alas Father He sys Desth might as, and hes Molds ofall the seu has aa Mold ft, but noticed the Quick wore of | "hose things, n a Few days, sd forestall the dishonor—You wil think no captive of me— "You sid "Dick" I now the Butely~—and the Lisd-—and the Ossi Latest Higginson a‘Are no howe your Cousteymen? Tam happy to be your schol, and wil dseve che Kindness, Teanaot ray you truly onsen, recite now Will you tell me ny ful fly ato your for had rather wine, tun die Men donot eal the surgeon to commend—the Bone, but set tei and acute within, sore ctel. And fri, Precept, Iba wing your Obeience—the Bosom Gom my Garden and every ratte now. Perhaps yous ate could not top for ehat—My Busines i icumfetence An ignorance, not of Customs, but if eughe with the Srwn-—or the Sunset see me—Miyel the only Kangaroo among the eau, Sif you plea, i afc me, and U thought hat instruction ‘old ake ay. ‘cause you have mich busines bade the growth of me—you will sppoint, yourself, how often I shal comte—without your inconvenience, Anita ay time—you reget ou recived me, oI prove a diferent fb {cto that you mpposed—you must banish me— ‘When I sate mye ar the Representative of the Verse—it does not ‘nearmebut «supped pss. Yu are te, abou the "prion ” Today, aes Yesterday mea, ‘Yu spoke of Pippa Poser never head anybody speak of Pippa ase befoe ‘You soe my poste i benighte. “To thunk you, ates me. Are you perfedypowesfuP Had pleasure sou had not, Tend delight bing "You Scholar * Act 62 Dea fiend — Are thee more ott? hank you for the Tat ‘Thad no Monarch in my if and canoe ele msc and when Tey 0 organire~my litle Forse expodes—and leaves me bare and chased Think you called me “Wayward” Wil you help me improve? 1 papote the pride hat tps the Breath, inthe Care of Woods i ot of Ouscls— ‘Yor say T conf the Bie mistake, and omit the lge—Becnute Ian tas Eni Dili sce Ontogapybut dhe Tgnrice ou of hts my Presptor Sse “SE shunsing Men apd Womens ta of Hallowed igs, sista cobra ny Dog Hea dnt objeto he they Teiiheiside tik Caro wold plese ow Tein dam ana are Fine you wo he th Chest Tey men my wale ity 09- {cesoienly an I hong the Ske ween Boson — “hun tc natn ne i he Orchard hat 1 Tet pesos sear oe en one les, you cold come 9 8 me“ [SF Timae none, oc ens ad one Bo dd wo hk te pce that you ld ome 0 Tomo ako ge rr et yo ight deny me— any "Bead Jour kro Yo wold ot wih me, be cae Tbe you ut Precept yo cannot eta 1 All ey ‘to we bt iho tion — Wem the Woe a ite Gi La tol tha he Sake soul te meat mht pik pono Howe, of Goblins Kap Trtbot wen song anim none bt Anglo wee fae af smh Tel ethno han et onenc in ead which inoy one Tha eure your proce hoigh [dont aden i bays T'naad se n One Yene—ecsse Tet aie | made ad eve cn uch pin, ey ante: por Tooter ois rote tine. naj he pons of Mie Browning? Peso sent me thee you at noe wiles hve ie? “Yur Schl Leste igus A