*There’s been a Death.* Emily Dickinson. How to Deconstruct. An Analysis.

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There’s been a Death consists of six quatrains (4-line stanzas), with a loose rhyme scheme, abcb, and alternating meters of iambic tetrameter ¹(four stresses to a line) and iambic trimeter (three stresses to a line); this is the poetic Ballad form used so often by Dickinson.

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There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House,
As lately as Today—
I know it, by the numb look
Such Houses have—alway—

The Neighbors rustle in and out—
The Doctor—drives away—
A Window opens like a Pod—
Abrupt—mechanically—

Somebody flings a Mattress out—
The Children hurry by—
They wonder if it died—on that—
I used to—when a Boy—

The Minister—goes stiffly in—
As if the House were His—
And He owned all the Mourners—now—
And little Boys—besides—

And then the Milliner—and the Man
Of the Appalling Trade—
To take the measure of the House—
There’ll be that Dark Parade—

Of Tassels—and of Coaches—soon—
It’s easy as a Sign—
The Intuition of the News—
In just a Country Town—

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There’s been a Death is a prime example of Dickinson’s preternatural ability to see into the essence of experience. The first line could not be more simple a statement of fact, though the inclusion of Opposite adds a note of the speaker’s specific observation, as does the second line, As lately as Today, lately being a somewhat unusual word-choice, implying a kind of distancing of emotion. This point of view is further enhanced by the numb look–again, emotionless–Such Houses have–alway, asserting the commonplace aspect of death, not the often visceral reaction.

In the second stanza, the word, rustle, suggests the movement of the Neighbors‘ clothing rather than their feelings. And the Doctor is just seen driving away, no hint of the cause of death or its effect on the house’s occupants. The speaker’s observations then become almost cold, not just clinical: a window pops open–Abrupt–mechanically–and a mattress is tossed out, no thought of the person–probably a loved one–who just died on it; it served its deathbed purpose. The Children hurry by–not concerned enough to pause–and wonder if it died on that; that it is like a blow in its complete lack of empathy and humanity. The deathbed is a curiosity, no more.

There follows a Dark Parade, not of mourners, but of the necessary preparations after death: the stiffly officious Minister (as if he were the center of the occasion, the House, the Mourners, and the little Boys all his) inured to the death by habit, the Milliner (trivial), and the undertaker–the Man/ Of the Appalling Trade--to make arrangements for the coffin and the viewing.

The objectification of everything involved robs the death of any meaning or personal significance. The speaker is just a typical disinterested, uninvolved observer of the death and its situation. It is impossible not to feel Dickinson’s intention of the reader’s discomfort as we witness banality for so profound an occurrence. The structure of the poem itself enhances this feeling with Dickinson’s usual dashes and enjambment² and slant³ rhymes (His/besides, Sign/Town).

That banality ends the poem and is what we are left with: the adornment (tassels) of the burial Coach, the common reaction (It’s easy as a Sign) to the common news (The intuition of the News), in a common town (In just a Country Town). Just another day.

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1. lines with four iambic feet-each containing one unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one (ta-DUM  ta-DUM  ta-DUM  ta-DUM ). Trimeter has three feet. ↩︎
2. a poetic device where a sentence, phrase, or thought runs over from one line, couplet, or stanza to the next.  ↩︎
3. Slant rhyme, also known as half rhyme, occurs when two words share similar but not identical sounds. ↩︎

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