y into the highest levels of art; and she wrote away a measure of terror by facing it squarely. In a moment of clear self-evaluation, she summarized her motive and achievement in the following poem: I made my soul familiar—with her extremity—That at the last, it should not be a novel Agony-- But she, and Death acquainted—Meet tranquilly, as friends—Salute, and pass, without a Hint—And there, the Maser ends—To another extreme, Dickinson can be the damp-eyed and sentimental poet in a group of poems such as “Some, too fragile for winter winds”, “On such a night or such a night”, “ She died—this was the way she died”, “Twas the old—road—through pain”, “If anybody’s friend be dead”, “Here, where the Daises fit my Head”. These poems offer the emotional maturity of Emily Dickinson, and only she can present them in a full understanding of the true nature of death. In Ferlazzo’s eyes, “...she seeks answers to final questions about existence, purpose, and destiny; in both she boldly pursues a sense of understanding wherever the answer may lead, sometimes at the expense of peace and consolation. She was painfully aware, too, that death is the secret gateway to the other side where once and for all her doubts about religious matters would either vanish or be confirmed....At certain moments, death can become for Dickinson a welcome relief from pain, thought, and instability.”14 As you can clearly see in her poems, she was always in deep thought. For her to write such interesting lines of poetry, only her life can reveal the true meanings of each stanza. Below is a letter, written to Abiah Root after the death of her close friend Leonard Humphrey, in which holds very significant meanings beneath it. It tells of the feelings in her life at that point and time, and how the loss of a...
