Because i could not stop for death poem analysis. I felt a Funeral, in my Brain 2022-11-05
Because i could not stop for death poem analysis
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"Because I Could Not Stop for Death" is a poem written by Emily Dickinson that explores the theme of death and the journey towards the afterlife. The poem is written in the first person, with the speaker recounting their experience of being picked up by death and taken on a journey.
The first stanza of the poem describes the speaker's encounter with death, personified as a gentleman who politely asks the speaker to come with him on a journey. The speaker agrees, and they set off in a carriage. This personification of death as a gentleman who is courteous and respectful is a departure from the traditional portrayal of death as a frightening or malevolent figure. Instead, Dickinson presents death as a natural and inevitable part of life, one that should be accepted rather than feared.
The second stanza of the poem describes the journey that the speaker and death take together. The speaker notes that they pass by fields of grain and scenes of everyday life, suggesting that the journey is not just physical, but also metaphorical. The speaker is moving from life to the afterlife, and the fields of grain may symbolize the passing of time or the fleeting nature of life.
The third stanza of the poem is perhaps the most poignant, as the speaker reflects on the passage of time and the nature of death. The speaker notes that they have been traveling for centuries, and that they are accompanied by immortality, suggesting that death is eternal and timeless. The speaker also notes that they are passing through a town, but the inhabitants do not seem to notice or acknowledge them, further emphasizing the idea that death is a natural and inevitable part of life that is not to be feared or resisted.
The final stanza of the poem describes the speaker's arrival at their final destination, a "House" that is described as "tomb." This image suggests that death is not the end, but rather a new beginning, as the speaker will now reside in the eternal "House" of the afterlife.
In conclusion, "Because I Could Not Stop for Death" is a powerful and thought-provoking poem that explores the theme of death and the journey towards the afterlife. Dickinson presents death as a natural and inevitable part of life, and encourages readers to embrace it rather than fear it. Through the use of personification and vivid imagery, Dickinson poetically explores the timeless nature of death and the idea that it is a journey rather than an end.
A Short Analysis of Emily Dickinson’s ‘Because I could not stop for Death’
She did so in order to reciprocate the courtesy of Death. Paris could not lay the fold Belted down with emerald; Venice could not show a cheek Of a tint so lustrous meek. I mind me that of anguish sent, Some drifts were moved away Before my simple bosom broke, — And why not this, if they? Till the evening, nearing, One the shutters drew — Quick! The poet presents death not as abstraction but a concrete reality. Include screen names as author names when author name is not known. In this stanza, the speaker reveals that her father, though dead, has somehow lived on, like a vampire, to torture her.
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Entertainment
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, — Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. The hours slid fast, as hours will, Clutched tight by greedy hands; So faces on two decks look back, Bound to opposing lands. Never did she lisp it, And 't was not for me; She was mute from transport, I, from agony! Wild-flowers kindle in the woods, The brooks brag all the day; No blackbird bates his jargoning For passing Calvary. A SERVICE OF SONG. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown.
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Because I Could Not Stop For Death: Summary and Analysis
I went to thank her, But she slept; Her bed a funnelled stone, With nosegays at the head and foot, That travellers had thrown, Who went to thank her; But she slept. This covert have all the children Early aged, and often cold, — Sparrows unnoticed by the Father; Lambs for whom time had not a fold. But the journey she describes is intriguing: is it faintly comical, or grimly macabre? Never such an ambuscade As of brier and leaf displayed For my little damask maid. And yet it will be done As sure as flocks go home at night Unto the shepherd's arm! Doubtless, he thought it meet of him To say good-by to men. In fact, she expresses that her fear of him was so intense, that she was afraid to even breathe or sneeze. She compares herself to a blackened apple, referring once against to her sun-baked skin.
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I felt a Funeral, in my Brain
Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side. I did not know the ample bread, 'T was so unlike the crumb The birds and I had often shared In Nature's dining-room. That I shall love alway, I offer thee That love is life, And life hath immortality. I pull a flower from the woods, — A monster with a glass Computes the stamens in a breath, And has her in a class. Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze. How condescending to descend, And be of buttercups the friend In a New England town! At the apparent level, the poet describes a funeral cession proceeding to the graveyard, but at the deeper level it deals with a spiritual journey to the eternity. I could not bear the bees should come, I wished they 'd stay away In those dim countries where they go: What word had they for me? She asks God how He could be a God of grace if she is here hanging.
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MLA Works Cited: Electronic Sources
The above lines have been taken from the poem 'Because I could not stop for Death' by Emily Dickinson. There's plunder, — where? Without important exception, her friends have generously placed at the disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her; and these have given the obvious advantage of comparison among several renderings of the same verse. She speaks a few nonsense lines, as she has lost blood flow to the brain and is in and out of consciousness. Two bodies therefore be; Bind one, and one will flee. The eagle of his nest No easier divest And gain the sky, Than mayest thou, Except thyself may be Thine enemy; Captivity is consciousness, So's liberty. She cannot see God, and she cannot understand Him. These are the days when skies put on The old, old sophistries of June, — A blue and gold mistake.
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Because I could not stop for Death — Poem Summary and Analysis
Is there such a thing as day? When all the children sleep She turns as long away As will suffice to light her lamps; Then, bending from the sky With infinite affection And infiniter care, Her golden finger on her lip, Wills silence everywhere. An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the lawn; A print of a vermilion foot; A purple finger on the slope; A flippant fly upon the pane; A spider at his trade again; An added strut in chanticleer; A flower expected everywhere; An axe shrill singing in the woods; Fern-odors on untravelled roads, — All this, and more I cannot tell, A furtive look you know as well, And Nicodemus' mystery Receives its annual reply. Like trains of cars on tracks of plush I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault Their chivalry consumes, While he, victorious, tilts away To vanquish other blooms. The speaker shifts to a tone of Later In this last section of Half Hanged Mary, it becomes clear that she has, in fact, lost her sanity. She describes the rope against her throat, the way her head bulges, and how she feels that her eyeballs would pop out of her head. I think that earth seems so To those in heaven now. I might have chanced that way! Perhaps the readers can understand this before the speaker herself is able to.
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Half Hanged Mary by Margaret Atwood
Death is personified as a gentle friend who is taking the poet on a carriage ride to eternity. Our share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning. Where ships of purple gently toss On seas of daffodil, Fantastic sailors mingle, And then — the wharf is still. It ruffles wrists of posts, As ankles of a queen, — Then stills its artisans like ghosts, Denying they have been. A spider sewed at night Without a light Upon an arc of white. Also many verses, written as such, were sent to friends in letters; these were published in 1894, in the volumes of her Letters.
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Daddy by Sylvia Plath
In the case of the present author, there was absolutely no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. Angels, write "Promoted" On this soldier's brow! And sometimes again we catch glimpses of a lyric strain, sustained perhaps but for a line or two at a time, and making the reader regret its sudden cessation. If a DOI is available, cite the DOI number instead of the URL. That others could exist While she must finish quite, A jealousy for her arose So nearly infinite. Stanza Five Says there are a dozen or two.
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Because I could not stop for Death— Summary
This reveals that she does not distinguish him as someone familiar and close to her. To what further rigorous pruning her verses would have been subjected had she published them herself, we cannot know. She compares herself to the early apostles, perhaps because she feels like a martyr, innocent, yet sentenced to death. PSALM OF THE DAY. Baptized before without the choice, But this time consciously, of grace Unto supremest name, Called to my full, the crescent dropped, Existence's whole arc filled up With one small diadem.
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