Anything in common? I’m stretching the analogy a bit because the light bulb was invented just about the time Emily died, but she was a keen observer of light as you can see from the beginning stanzas of these poems.
There is a certain slant of light
On winter afternoons
That oppresses like the weight
Of cathedral tunes
It’s like the light,-
A fashionless delight
It’s like the bee,-
A dateless melody.
The day came slow, till five o’clock,
Then sprang before the hills
Like hindered rubies or the light
A sudden musket spills.
And one of my favorites
I’ll tell you how the sun rose,-
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples bathed in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.