Thoughts on an Emily Dickinson Poem

All overgrown by cunning moss, (146) by Emily Dickinson

“All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of “Currer Bell”
In quiet “Haworth” laid.

This Bird – observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes –
Quietly did the same –

But differed in returning –
Since Yorkshire hills are green –
Yet not in all the nests I meet –
Can Nightingale be seen –”

I was recently introduced to Dickinson’s poetry through my module on writing poetry. I had never read any of her work before, and although I had heard of her in passing, I had never thought to look at any of her poems. It was poem 146 that took my fancy straight away, possibly because I could understand its subject matter most clearly: the grave of Charlotte Bronte. Whilst the subject matter appears at first to be morbid…