Who Was Emily Dickinson?


Regarding The Portrait of Emily Dickinson linked below:

I have been trying to contact Rob, Jim, and/or Alice Walton (of Walmart) for nearly 5 months, so I can only guess that somehow my email messages are not getting all the way through to them.

I wonder if anyone out there can help me reach them.  

I have sent all the pertinent info in more than a dozen email messages, but I haven't heard anything back from anyone yet.

My intention is for 'Emilysa' to find a home at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art


If it happens that the Walton family is NOT interested, I hope they will kindly let me know rather soon, for obvious reasons, so I can start pursuing other options for the sale of my portrait of Emily Dickinson — Priceless Masterpiece Of American Art


Wanna get involved? 

Feel free to contact the Walton family regarding THIS matter at their published email addresses: 

  • irinqu@walmart.com
  • alicewalton@crystalbridges.org 


Thanks for Visiting and please enjoy Emily's NEW Poem shown below! 




Did you know that Emily Dickinson wrote an autobiography?  

Neither did she. 

Scroll down see a recently discovered autobiographical poem, every word of it by Emily. 


Scroll further down to see a link to an amazing lost (also recently discovered) Masterpiece of 19th century American art! 

This original oil portrait from 1854 is one of the precious few images of this World Famous American Poet known to exist. 


Do You Love Emily? 

You've come to the right place. 





Shown above: Excerpt from an 1850 edition of 'The Indicator,' a magazine published by Amherst College.

This letter represents the first of the very few times that Emily Dickinson was published in her lifetime (1830 — 1886). 

Evidently, even Emily's letters are pure poetry, as this one begins...  


Magnum bonum

harem scarem 

zounds et zounds

et war alarum 

man reformam

life perfectum

mundum changum 

all things flarum






The Posthumous Autobiography
of Emily Dickinson




His Cheek Is His Biographer

by Emily Dickinson 


Found and Produced by Judee Shipman

Composed of First Lines from the Verses of Emily Dickinson 




I


The first Day that I was a Life

The Clouds their Backs together laid

An awful Tempest mashed the air —

The Flake the Wind exasperate


A curious Cloud surprised the Sky

I had no Cause to be awake

’Twas just this time, last year, I died. 

Time’s wily Chargers will not wait


The Sun kept stooping — stooping — low!

As far from pity, as complaint

On this long storm the Rainbow rose

Our little Kinsman — after Rain 


Myself was formed — a Carpenter 

A little East of Jordan 

Fate slew Him, but He did not drop 

The Sun — just touched the Morning 


Better — than Music! For I — who heard it 

Best Witchcraft is Geometry 

Between the form of Life and Life 

Some — Work for Immortality 


My Reward for Being, was This.

My Maker — let me be

I think to Live — may be a Bliss

The earth has many keys. 


There is a solitude of space

Advance is Life’s condition

The Life that tied too tight escapes

The Chemical conviction


Of Consciousness, her awful Mate

How well I knew Her not

One Life of so much Consequence!

I found the words to every thought 


I took my Power in my Hand 

I play at Riches — to appease 

Tell all the Truth but tell it Slant 

The Products of my Farm are these 




II


Bees are Black with Gilt Surcingles

Pigmy seraphs — gone astray

A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds

Absent Place — an April Day


I think the Root of the Wind is Water

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar

The parasol is the umbrella’s daughter

Touch lightly Nature’s sweet Guitar 


There's a certain Slant of light 

As Summer into Autumn slips 

Besides the Autumn poets sing

That Love is all there is 


A South Wind — has a pathos

The Infinite a sudden Guest

A Night — there lay the Days between

One Blessing had I than the rest


A Word dropped careless on a Page 

A transport one cannot contain

If I can stop one Heart from breaking 

The Road to Paradise is plain 


Expectation — is Contentment 

Exhiliration is the Breeze 

Experiment escorts us last

Estranged from Beauty — none can be 


Hope is a strange invention 

With Pinions of Disdain 

Speech is one symptom of Affection 

I cried at Pity — not at Pain 


Could Hope inspect her Basis 

Could mortal lip divine 

In many and reportless places 

Awake ye muses nine 


Many a phrase has the English language

All the letters I can write

One Joy of so much anguish

’Tis Anguish grander than Delight 




III


I prayed, at first, a little Girl 

Our journey had advanced  

I often passed the village  

Whoever disenchants   


I think I was enchanted 

I learned — at least — what Home could be 

I noticed people disappeared 

I meant to have but modest needs 


I was the slightest in the House 

I was a Phoebe — nothing more 

The worthlessness of Earthly things 

They called me to the Window, for 


I had a guinea golden 

I had no time to Hate 

I had been hungry, all the Years 

To mend each tattered Faith 


 I robbed the Woods 

The Crickets sang 

A fuzzy fellow, without feet 

A little Road — not made of Man

A slash of Blue 

Within my reach! 


The Mushroom is the Elf of plants

What mystery pervades a well!

A Secret told 

A Wind that rose 

The Robin is a Gabriel


We like March. 

There are two Mays

There is a June when Corn is cut 

Answer July

Of Bronze — and Blaze 

Step lightly on this narrow spot 


I thought that nature was enough 

I stepped from Plank to Plank 

Talk not to me of Summer Trees 

I rose — because He sank 


I have a King, who does not speak 

I live with Him — I see His face 

I like a look of Agony 

I never hear the word escape 


The most pathetic thing I do

I measure every Grief I meet

I cannot dance upon my Toes

I could not prove the Years had feet


I met a King this afternoon!

His Mind like Fabrics of the East

I groped for him before I knew

I could not drink it, Sweet


They put Us far apart

They shut me up in Prose

Now I lay thee down to Sleep

Nobody knows this little Rose 


I reckon — when I count it all

One and One — are One

Trusty as the stars

We can but follow to the Sun


Love reckons by itself — alone

With sweetness unabated

Impossibility, like Wine

Were natural mortal lady


Despair's advantage is achieved 

Heart! We will forget him! 

Bring me the sunset in a cup 

Delight's Despair at setting 


I had some things that I called mine 

I had a daily Bliss 

I haven't told my garden yet 

I have no Life but this 



IV


Away from Home are some and I

I thought the Train would never come

What if I say I shall not wait! 

Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! 


I lost a World — the other day! 

Of Nature I shall have enough 

In lands I never saw — they say

Go travelling with us! 


I like to see it lap the Miles 

Like Trains of Cars on Tracks of Plush

Between My Country — and the Others

Where Ships of Purple — gently toss 


Like Brooms of Steel

It tossed — and tossed

It sounded as if the Streets were running

Like Rain it sounded till it curved

A happy lip — breaks sudden


Beauty crowds me till I die 

I've dropped my Brain — My Soul is numb 

Snow beneath whose chilly softness 

The Daisy follows soft the Sun 


Drama’s Vitallest Expression is the Common Day

I knew that I had gained

Great Streets of silence led away

The Clover's simple Fame


Houses — so the Wise Men tell me

The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves

In falling Timbers buried

The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea 


How the old Mountains drip with Sunset 

A little Snow was here and there 

'Tis One by One — the Father counts 

The Days that we can spare 


If I could tell how glad I was 

Artists wrestled here!

Fame's Boys and Girls, who never die 

Fame of Myself, to justify 


I would not paint — a picture 

A Diamond on the Hand

If it had no pencil 

To interrupt His Yellow Plan 


Portraits are to daily faces 

The Grace — Myself — might not obtain 

Her face was in a bed of hair  

A shady friend — for Torrid days 


A science — so the Savants say

All Circumstances are the Frame

Of all the Souls that stand create 

The Face in evanescence lain 


It makes no difference abroad 

Who Giants know, with lesser Men

A Deed knocks first at Thought

That it will never come again 


Just so — Jesus — raps

Alone and in a Circumstance 

If he were living — dare I ask

How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand


I think the Hemlock likes to stand

Under the Light, yet under

The Wind — trapped like a tired Man

So the Eyes accost — and sunder


Make me a picture of the sun 

Fairer through Fading — as the Day

Not knowing when the Dawn will come

A Sloop of Amber slips away 


How happy I was if I could forget 

The Sun and Moon must make their haste

At least — to pray — is left — is left 

Tho' I get home how late — how late 



Shown Above: Portrait of Emily Dickinson





Reportless Subjects, to the Quick 

What shall I do when the Summer troubles 

Split the Lark — and you'll find the Music 

She sights a Bird — she chuckles 


A Sparrow took a Slice of Twig   

Whose are the little beds, I asked 

Those cattle smaller than a Bee 

On my volcano grows the Grass 

 

God permits industrious angels 

A little Dog that wags his tail 

Autumn — overlooked my Knitting 

Soil of Flint, if steady tilled 


Air has no Residence, no Neighbor 

Beauty — be not caused — It Is 

Four Trees upon a solitary Acre 

Such is the Force of Happiness 


Dreams — are well — but Waking's better 

The Definition of Beauty is  

Going to Him! Happy Letter! 

A precious — mouldering pleasure — 'tis 


The Way I read a Letter's — this

I read my sentence — steadily

Forget! The lady with the Amulet

Witchcraft has not a Pedigree 


A Letter is a joy of Earth

Myself can read the Telegrams 

He ate and drank the precious Words 

Just as He spoke it from His hands


Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple  

Two butterflies went out at Noon 

We shall find the Cube of the Rainbow 

You know that Portrait in the Moon 


The Moon is Distant from the Sea 

How still the Bells in Steeples stand 

The Stars are old, that stood for me  

This was a Poet — it is That 


The Life we have is very great 

So glad we are — a Stranger'd deem 

Bloom upon the Mountain — stated 

Let me not mar that perfect Dream 




VI


One Sister have I in our house

I showed her Heights she never saw

Eden is that old-fashioned House

Circumference thou Bride of Awe 


We met as Sparks — Diverging Flints 

The Thrill came slowly like a Boom 

She staked her Feathers — Gained an Arc 

I had the Glory — that will do 


What Inn is this?

Whose cheek is this?

The Juggler’s Hat her Country is

Her little Parasol to lift 

The Face we choose to miss


The joy that has no stem no core 

The Lamp burns sure — within 

Arrows slay but whom they strike 

We lose — because we win 


A Saucer holds a Cup

The smouldering embers blush

A charm invests a face

Goodnight, because we must


Apparently with no surprise

To the bright east she flies

To her derided Home

The nearest Dream recedes — unrealized


'Twas later when the summer went

To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights 

Too happy Time dissolves itself

Her spirit rose to such a height


She's happy, with a new Content

She could not live upon the Past 

Shall I take thee, the Poet said

Each Second is the last


To see her is a Picture 

The Heart has many Doors 

To own a Susan of my own 

I cannot want it more 


'Tis true — They shut me in the Cold

Without a smile — Without a Throe

If I could bribe them by a Rose

I could die — to know 


His mind of man, a secret makes 

How destitute is he

A face devoid of love or grace 

By my Window have I for Scenery 


I'll send the feather from my Hat! 

To their apartment deep

To offer brave assistance

To his simplicity 


Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!

Have you got a Brook in your little Heart

It would not know if it were spurned

I see thee better — in the Dark


The Heart asks Pleasure — first

A throe upon the features

Water, is taught by thirst

What Soft — Cherubic Creatures


Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell 

That I did always love 

Like Some Old fashioned Miracle  

Once more, my now bewildered Dove 


Who saw no Sunrise cannot say

The first Day’s Night had come

The Sun went down — no Man looked on

The Trees like Tassels — hit — and swung 


If she had been the Mistletoe 

In Winter in my Room 

If What we could — were what we would 

Be Mine the Doom 


I bring an unaccustomed wine 

I pay — in Satin Cash 

I never told the buried Gold 

Forbidden Fruit a flavor has 


I taste a liquor never brewed  

A little Madness in the Spring 

For largest Woman’s Hearth I knew 

I asked no other thing   


Red Sea, indeed! Talk not to me

Some one prepared this mighty show

She laid her docile Crescent down

You cannot make Remembrance grow


Paradise is that old mansion 

To my small Hearth His fire came 

Rearrange a "Wife's" affection! 

Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? 


So bashful when I spied her! 

The Wind begun to knead the Grass 

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold 

Her Grace is all she has 


I saw the wind within her 

I never felt at home — Below — 

The Outer — from the Inner

Whose Pink career may have a close 


How fleet — how indiscreet an one

Who has not found the Heaven — below

I suppose the time will come

To own the Art within the Soul 


You're right — the way is narrow

The Bone that has no Marrow

The sweetest Heresy received

On that specific Pillow 


Is it true, dear Sue?

My Heart ran so to thee

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon

Your Riches — taught me — Poverty


Oh give it Motion — deck it sweet

That sacred Closet when you sweep 

A Wife — at daybreak I shall be


'Twas awkward, but it fitted me 


The fairest Home I ever knew

The Frost was never seen

The Rose did caper on her cheek

Down Time's quaint stream


She sweeps with many-colored Brooms 

So well that I can live without 

The things we thought that we should do 

My Worthiness is all my Doubt 


Dying! Dying in the night!

Had I not seen the Sun

This Chasm, Sweet upon my life

Lay this Laurel on the One




VII


What I see not, I better see

When Night is almost done

When the Astronomer stops seeking

Nature assigns the Sun 


I started Early — Took my Dog  

The Mountain sat upon the Plain 

This — is the land — the Sunset washes 

This is a Blossom of the Brain 


Some keep the Sabbath going to Church 

When Bells stop ringing — Church — begins

We — Bee and I — live by the quaffing

These are the Signs to Nature's Inns


Low at my problem bending

The spry Arms of the Wind 

Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning

God made a little Gentian 


The Gentian has a parched Corolla 

'Tis little I — could care for Pearls

What tenements of clover

These Strangers, in a foreign World


Within my Garden, rides a Bird  

The Lilac is an ancient shrub 

Immortal is an ample word 

God is a distant — stately Lover  


Sweet is the swamp with its secrets 

The Sun and Fog contested 

The competitions of the sky 

Trust in the Unexpected 


New feet within my garden go

Why should we hurry — why indeed?

I cannot buy it — ’tis not sold

The Murmur of a Bee 


A Bee in his burnished Carriage

Within that little Hive

There is a Languor of the Life

While it is alive


The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings 

The Spider holds a Silver Ball 

The Bird her punctual music brings 

I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl 


The Guest is gold and crimson

The ones that disappeared are back

To tell the Beauty would decrease

The gleam of an heroic Act


A Bird came down the Walk 

A Burdock — clawed my Gown 

A winged spark doth soar about 

It rises — passes — on our South 


A full fed Rose on meals of Tint

The Hills in Purple syllables

Frequently the woods are pink —

Delight — becomes pictorial 


My Eye is fuller than my vase

My Faith is larger than the hills

My Heart upon a little Plate

My first well Day — since many ill 




VIII 


Bless God, he went as soldiers 

'Tis Seasons since the Dimpled War 

A chilly Peace infests the Grass 

Again — his voice is at the door 


A shade upon the mind there passes 

A darting fear — a pomp — a tear 

Escaping backward to perceive  

A Field of Stubble, lying sere 


These — saw Visions

Color — Caste — Denomination

Pursuing you in your transitions

Through the Dark Sod — as Education


There's the Battle of Burgoyne 

There is a strength in proving that it can be borne

The Dust behind I strove to join

Presentiment — is that long Shadow — on the Lawn 


To fight aloud, is very brave 

Peace is a fiction of our Faith 

Some Wretched creature, savior take


Remorse is memory awake 


He touched me, so I lived to know

The overtakelessness of those 

Who never wanted — maddest Joy!

Go not too near a House of Rose 


Who never lost, are unprepared

Oh Shadow on the Grass

While we were fearing it, it came

'Twas Crisis — All the length had passed 


The Beggar Lad — dies early 

A faded Boy — in sallow Clothes 

Their dappled importunity 

The largest Fire ever known 


Upon the gallows hung a wretch 

The Hollows round His eager Eyes

Of Glory not a Beam is left 

It feels a shame to be Alive


A Cap of Lead across the sky 

A House upon the Height 

A lane of Yellow led the eye 

The Fingers of the Light 


An Everywhere of Silver 

A Dimple in the Tomb 

An ignorance a Sunset 

His Mansion in the Pool 


Glass was the Street — in tinsel Peril 

From his slim Palace in the Dust

His heart was darker than the starless night 

'Twas fighting for his Life he was 


A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree

A Light exists in Spring 

I bet with every wind that blew 

The Red — Blaze — is the Morning 


Somehow myself survived the Night

It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone

It was not Death, for I stood up

A Mine there is no Man would own


A train went through a burial gate 

A Door just opened on a street 

Not Revelation — 'tis — that waits 

There's something quieter than sleep 


The grave my little cottage is  

The Mountains stood in Haze 

We knew not that we were to live 

To venerate the simple days 


Jesus! thy Crucifix

Just lost, when I was saved! 

Lest they should come — is all my fear

We do not play on Graves 


My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun

My friend attacks my friend! 

It always felt to me — a wrong 

Great Caesar! Condescend 


One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted

Who goes to dine must take his Feast

This quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies

The murmuring of Bees, has ceased


You love the Lord — you cannot see 

Except the Heaven had come so near 

The Flower must not blame the Bee 

Endow the Living — with the Tears 




IX


A Thought went up my mind today

A Toad, can die of Light

Love can do all but raise the dead

A Spider sewed at Night


I cautious, scanned my little Life

I cannot be ashamed 

I can't tell you — but you feel it 

Dominion lasts until obtained 


I watched her face to see which way 

Did We abolish Frost 

Where bells no more affright the morn 

If those I loved were lost 


It troubled me as once I was 

The Merchant of the Picturesque 

If Nature smiles — the Mother must 

Just Once! Oh least Request! 


I know of people in the Grave 

Quite empty, quite at rest 

I Came to buy a smile — today 

I am alive — I guess 



To die — without the Dying 

We'll pass without the parting 

Her smile was shaped like other smiles 

Like her the Saints retire 

When Continents expire 

The Lightning playeth — all the while 



They say that Time assuages

Declaiming Waters none may dread

The Gentian weaves her fringes

The Hills erect their Purple Heads


We do not know the time we lose 

Oh, honey of an hour 

The duties of the Wind are few 

To be alive — is Power 


The morns are meeker than they were  

When we have ceased to care  

I do not care — why should I care  

This Consciousness that is aware


Of so divine a Loss 

All overgrown by cunning moss   

When One has given up One's life 


'Twas here my summer paused 




X


When I was small, a Woman died

The only Ghost I ever saw

The Sunset stopped on Cottages

The Road was lit with Moon and star 


'Twas comfort in her Dying Room 

The Lassitudes of Contemplation 

She went as quiet as the Dew 

She rose as high as His Occasion 


She dealt her pretty words like Blades

We grow accustomed to the Dark

We shun because we prize her Face

Like Men and Women Shadows walk 


A soft Sea washed around the House 

The night was wide, and furnished scant 

I saw no Way — the Heavens were stitched 

I felt my life with both my hands 


Climbing to reach the costly Hearts 

By a departing light 

Would feel as thoroughly at ease 

As a plan for Noon and a plan for Night 


Lightly stepped a yellow star

Unfulfilled to Observation

Those final Creatures — who they are

Tomorrow — whose location


I heard as if I had no Ear

An altered look about the hills

Is it too late to touch you, Dear?

The Sun kept setting — setting — still 


I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

Two Travellers perishing in Snow

The Frost of Death was on the Pane

Where Roses would not dare to go 



XI


Too cold is this 


Soul, take thy risk. 

In this short Life 

If I should die 

Of Course — I prayed 

Take all away 

Look back on time, with kindly eyes 


Too few the mornings be

To flee from memory

Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy


Could I but ride indefinite 

As from the earth the light Balloon  

In thy long Paradise of Light 

Over and over, like a Tune  


How firm Eternity must look 

The vastest earthly Day 

My Wars are laid away in Books 

The words the happy say 


Although I put away this life

As Children bid the Guest Good Night 

Because I could not stop for Death 

The Day grew small, surrounded tight  


A Clock stopped

A great Hope fell 

The Color of the Grave is Green

A Lady red — amid the Hill 


How much the present moment means 


How happy is the little Stone

Some Rainbow — coming from the Fair! 

The feet of people walking home 

The pungent atom in the Air 


Because the Bee may blameless hum

Through those old Grounds of memory

Take your Heaven further on

The Bee is not afraid of me.


Life — is what we make of it 

It don't sound so terrible — quite — as it did

They leave us with the infinite 

Here, where the Daisies fit my Head 


Trudging to Eden, looking backward

To my quick ear, the Leaves — conferred

How many times these low feet staggered

When I have seen the Sun emerge 


Funny — to be a Century

Upon a Lilac Sea

Left in immortal Youth

Forever honored by the Tree 


If ever the lid gets off my head 

I think just how my shape will rise 

Like Mighty Foot Lights — burned the Red 

Confirming All who analyze 


Fly — fly — but as you fly

Follow wise Orion 

I envy Seas whereon He rides 

No matter where the Saints abide 


How far is it to Heaven? 

How know it from a Summer's Day? 

Truth — is as old as God 

Our little secrets slink away 


It's all I have to bring today

It's thoughts — and just One Heart

I've nothing else — to bring, You know

to help our Bleaker Parts


This is my letter to the World

The Riddle we can guess

Now that he goes — we love him more

He was my host — he was my guest


We don’t cry — Tim and I 

We talked as Girls do

At last, to be identified!


I’m Nobody! Who are you? 





Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson  Emily Dickinson  Emily Dickinson   Emily Dickinson 

Above and below: Portrait of Emily Dickinson — W.H. Machen, 1854  


Above: A detail of the Portrait of Emily Dickinson

image credit: Emily Dickinson and WH Machen, the artist who painted this portrait of Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson   



Related Links From The
Poetry-That-Doesn't-Suck Collection 


More Poems By This Poet (Me) 


Poems I

Poems II 

NEW Poetic Format (Take The Challenge!) 


AESOP'S RHYMES - A collection of Aesop's Fables reworked into original rhyming verse.  

MORE AESOP'S RHYMES





Poems By Other Poets, Too 


SHORT SWEET LOVE POEMS Short, funny, and maybe even a little bit naughty, but sweet nonetheless.

VALENTINE POEMS Short verses that alternate between charming, funny, and downright absurd. Not exactly Emily Dickinson, but who is? 

FRIENDSHIP POEMS Poems about friendship that actually don't suck.

FUNNY POEMS Who doesn't enjoy a touch of humor here and there? And while you're at it, why not make it rhyme?

SPANISH POEM (with translation) A rhymed verse composed in Spanish, with an English translation. 



AQUARIUS POETRY  

ARIES POETRY 

CAPRICORN POETRY

GEMINI POETRY  

LIBRA POETRY 

PISCES POETRY 

VIRGO POETRY 



POETRY FROM EVERY STATE Poems about YOUR state! This collection captures the mood of geographically themed poetry. 





Top 20 Colleges For Poets  


  1. Brown University
  2. Carnegie Mellon University
  3. Central Michigan University
  4. Columbia University
  5. Dartmouth College
  6. Emory University
  7. George Mason University
  8. Georgia State University
  9. Harvard University
  10. Indiana University
  11. Johns Hopkins University
  12. Northwestern University
  13. Penn State University
  14. Pepperdine University
  15. University of Arizona
  16. University of Chicago
  17. University of Massachusetts at Amherst(Located near the Emily Dickinson Museum)
  18. University of Southern California(USC) 
  19. Virginia Tech
  20. Washington University St. Louis



Also worthy of mention is Amherst College, where Emily Dickinson attended school for 7 years, back when the school was known as the Amherst Academy


Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson 



Top 25 Colleges For American Literature


  1. Boston University
  2. Bowdoin College
  3. Brown University
  4. Case Western Reserve
  5. Cornell University
  6. Dartmouth College
  7. Emory University
  8. Columbia University (Barnard College)
  9. Georgetown University
  10. Harvard University
  11. New York University (NYU)
  12. Northwestern University
  13. Princeton University
  14. Stanford University
  15. Swarthmore College
  16. UC Berkeley
  17. UCLA
  18. University of Chicago
  19. University of Georgia
  20. University of Illinois
  21. University of Michigan
  22. University of North Carolina
  23. University of Virginia
  24. University of Washington
  25. University of Wisconsin








MASTERPIECE ALERT!

Look Here Right Now To See A Long Lost Portrait Of Emily Dickinson! 






Emily Dickinson 

Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson