Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we are still. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy ...

To mark the December 10 birthday of Emily Dickinson (1830–1886), today we offer our readers an emblematic Dickinson poem: a poem about death. Reading Dickinson, we can readily feel that for every poem ...