Game Development | Graphic Design
Delaney Golden
I have always found the words of Emily Dickinson to be inspiring. Her view on life was truly a unique reclusive take on a world that was far from perfect. This book is by no means a full account of the poet's life, but rather a collection of some of my favorites. I chose each poem that I found a deep connection with and felt told the story of Dickinson's life.
Due to her reclusive nature, Emily did not publish many of her poems during her lifetime. We owe their existence to her sister Lavinia who discovered her poems and published them four years after her death. It was the effort of friends and family who admired Dickinson and helped publish her works. I want to thank all of the enthusiasts out there who continue to perpetuate her words throughout the years. She was truly the most prolific American poet of her time.
The first thing I did to plan out the poetry book was select the poems I wanted to draw and then arranged them into a storyboard format. I decided to divide the book into different sections of the poet's life signified by different feelings and emotions. I also wanted to add an author's note, acknowledgments, and dedication.
The next step was to begin the drawing process. For each poem, I researched the origin and brainstormed many different ways to depict the symbolism of the words. Below are some examples of the drawings next to their inspiration.
Split the Lark—and you’ll find the Music — Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled —
Scantily dealt to the Summer Morning Saved for your Ear, when Lutes be old —
Loose the Flood—you shall find it patent — Gush after Gush, reserved for you —
Scarlet Experiment! Sceptic Thomas!
Now, do you doubt that your Bird was True?
Wild nights - Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be Our luxury!
Futile - the winds -
To a Heart in port - Done with the Compass - Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden -
Ah - the Sea!
Might I but moor - tonight - In thee!
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
​
We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –
​
We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –
​
Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –
​
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
​
Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –
Fame is a bee.
It has a song—
It has a sting—
Ah, too, it has a wing.
I have never seen “Volcanoes”
But, when Travelers tell
How those old – phlegmatic mountains Usually so still
​
Bear within – appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men
​
If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place
If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?
​
If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy “Pompeii”!
To the Hills return!
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Forbidden Fruit a flavor has
That lawful Orchards mocks — How luscious lies within the Pod The Pea that Duty locks —
This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me—
The simple News that Nature told—
With tender Majesty
​
Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see—
For love of Her—Sweet—countrymen— Judge tenderly—of Me
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
​
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
​
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
The cover of the book shows a drawing of the Dickinson family home which many historians refer to as "The Homestead." The back shows "The Evergreens" which was built for Emily's brother Austin Dickinson as well as his wife Susan Gilbert, a dear childhood friend of Emily. Both locations held a deep connection to the poet and housed many memories and stories that inspired her work. It seemed only fitting to showcase these locations on the binding of the book.
