It is completely fitting that we should begin our exploration into the mystery of Emily Dickinson here at her grave site in Amherst, Massachusetts. It was at Amherst, except for a rare trip or two made during her earlier years that Emily spent her entire life. A life that was devoted in large part to the contemplation of what happened to human beings after death. If Emily never solved that puzzle during her own 55 years on earth, she certainly has the answer now, sleeping peacefully between her parents and her sister, here in the cemetery at Amherst.

SAFE IN THEIR ALABASTER CHAMBER
UNTOUCHED BY MORNING AND UNTOUCHED BY NOON,
SLEEP THE MEEK MEMBERS OF THE RESURRECTION,
RAFTER OF SATIN AND ROOF OF STONE
LIGHT LAUGHS THE BREEZE IN HER CASTLE OF SUNSHINE;
BABBLES THE BEE IN A STOLID EAR;
PIPE THE SWEET BIRDS IN IGNORANT CADENCE,
AH, WHAT SAGACITY PERISHED HERE!
GRAND GO THE YEARS IN THE CRESCENT ABOVE THEM;
WORLDS SCOOP THEIR ARCS, AND FIRMAMENTS ROW,
DIADEMS DROP AND DOGES SURRENDER,
SOUNDLESS AS DOTS ON A DISK OF SNOW.