Death as Hired Help

Dickinson shrinks death by making it a job, not a power. The porter is the lowest servant in a great house—the guy who carries luggage and opens doors. By calling heaven her father's lodge, she's already inside the family estate; death just works there.

The word abasheth (embarrasses, makes shy) is the tell. She's not terrified of the porter—she's awkward around him, like you'd be uncomfortable with a servant watching you. This is social anxiety, not existential dread. She treats the ultimate fear as a minor social inconvenience.

The question format matters. She's not declaring 'I'm not afraid'—she's interrogating her own fear, testing it like a lawyer. Each stanza puts a different fear on trial: death, life, resurrection. All three get dismissed, but through different arguments.

The Logic of Being Inside

The life stanza uses comprehendeth (contains, encompasses) to make a spatial argument. You can't fear what you're already inside—it's like being afraid of a room you're standing in. The phrase one or more existences quietly includes reincarnation or multiple lives without committing to either.

At Deity's decree puts God in charge of the container, not her. She's not claiming control over life; she's claiming it's illogical to fear something that's been decreed to contain you. The fear would be odd—her word choice is almost comic, like calling murder 'inconvenient.'

The final stanza flips to natural law as proof. The east (where the sun rises) doesn't doubt the morning will come. Fastidious makes the horizon feminine and fussy, worried about propriety—but even this prim lady-horizon trusts dawn. If nature's that certain, Dickinson's certainty about resurrection is just as grounded. The crown is her faith, and questioning it would be self-impeachment—charging herself with treason against her own beliefs.

Emily Dickinson

Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?

Not death; for who is he?

porter of my father's lodge

Death as a servant at God's house—not a king or judge, just the doorman. The verb 'abasheth' (embarrasses) is deliberately small for something we're supposed to fear.

The porter of my father's lodge

As much abasheth me.

Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing

That comprehendeth me

comprehendeth me

She's inside life, so how can she fear it? The logic is geometric: you can't be afraid of the container you're already in.

In one or more existences

At Deity's decree.

Of resurrection? Is the east

Afraid to trust the morn

fastidious forehead

The horizon as a prim Victorian woman, fussy about appearances. Does the east worry about whether dawn will show up? Obviously not.

With her fastidious forehead?

As soon impeach my crown!

impeach my crown

Legal term—to charge with misconduct. Her certainty about resurrection is as solid as royalty; questioning it would be treason against herself.

Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation