“It was not Death, for I stood up” was written by the American poet Emily Dickinson in the summer of 1862. The poem depicts a harrowing experience of hopelessness and despair, which the speaker suggests is all the more terrible for being impossible to name or understand. Dickinson published only a few poems in her lifetime, instead sewing many of her poems into handmade fascicles or booklets. She included “It was not Death, for I stood up” in Fascicle 17, and the poem was first published in the posthumous collection Poems in 1891.
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1It was not Death, for I stood up,
2And all the Dead, lie down—
3It was not Night, for all the Bells
4Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
5It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
6I felt Siroccos—crawl—
7Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
8Could keep a Chancel, cool—
9And yet, it tasted, like them all,
10The Figures I have seen
11Set orderly, for Burial,
12Reminded me, of mine—
13As if my life were shaven,
14And fitted to a frame,
15And could not breathe without a key,
16And 'twas like Midnight, some—
17When everything that ticked—has stopped—
18And Space stares all around—
19Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
20Repeal the Beating Ground—
21But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
22Without a Chance, or Spar—
23Or even a Report of Land—
24To justify—Despair.
1It was not Death, for I stood up,
2And all the Dead, lie down—
3It was not Night, for all the Bells
4Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
5It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
6I felt Siroccos—crawl—
7Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
8Could keep a Chancel, cool—
9And yet, it tasted, like them all,
10The Figures I have seen
11Set orderly, for Burial,
12Reminded me, of mine—
13As if my life were shaven,
14And fitted to a frame,
15And could not breathe without a key,
16And 'twas like Midnight, some—
17When everything that ticked—has stopped—
18And Space stares all around—
19Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
20Repeal the Beating Ground—
21But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
22Without a Chance, or Spar—
23Or even a Report of Land—
24To justify—Despair.
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down—
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos—crawl—
Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool—
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine—
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And 'twas like Midnight, some—
When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—
But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
Without a Chance, or Spar—
Or even a Report of Land—
To justify—Despair.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Biography of Emily Dickinson — Read more about Emily Dickinson’s life and poetry in this article from the Poetry Foundation.
The Poem and the American Civil War — Some scholars have argued that the poem can be read as exploring the experience of a traumatized Union Soldier during the American Civil War. Read more in this article published at White Heat, a blog run by Dartmouth college.
Manuscript and Audio of the Poem at the Morgan Library — View the original manuscript of the poem in Dickinson’s handwriting, and hear the poem read aloud, at the website of the Morgan Library.
Dickinson and Lauper — Read more about the poem—including a comparison between Dickinson and Cyndi Lauper—in this essay by the contemporary poet Robin Ekiss.
Website of the Emily Dickinson Museum — Learn more about Emily Dickinson’s life at the website of the Emily Dickinson museum, which is located at Dickinson’s former home in Amherst, Massachusetts.