When examining the dash in letters, it is important to attempt to keep the original view as much as possible. The following letter has many edits on the manuscript created by Dickinson herself, and I have done my best to sort them out and recreate a transcription to the best of my ability. The link to view the original manuscript is above the transcription.
http://www.edickinson.org/editions/1/image_sets/4905
Master,
If you saw a bullet hit a Bird--and he told you he was'nt shot--you might weep at his courtesy, but you would certainly doubt his word.
One drop more from the gash that stains your Daisy's bosom--then would you believe ? Thomas' faith in Anatomy, was stronger than his faith in faith. God made me-- [Sir] Master--I did'nt be--myself. I dont know how it was done. He built the heart in me--Bye and bye it outgrew me--and like the little mother--with the big child--I got tired holding him. I heard of a thing called “Redemption”--which rested men and women. You remember I asked you for it--you gave me something else. I forgot the Redemption [in the Redeemed--I didn't tell you for a long time, but I knew you had altered me--I] and was tired--no more-- [so dear did this stranger become that were it, or my breath--the Alternative--I had tossed the fellow away with a smile.] I am older--tonight, Master--but the love is the same--so are the moon and the crescent. If it had been God's will that I might breathe where you breathed--and find the place--myself--at night--if I (can) never forget that I am not with you--and that sorrow and frost are nearer than I--if I wish with a might I cannot repress--that mine were the Queen's place--the love of the Plantagenet is my only apology--To come nearer than presbyteries--and nearer than the new Coat--that the Tailor made--the prank of the Heart at play on the Heart--in holy Holiday--is forbidden me--You make me say it over--I fear you laugh--when I do not see-- [but] “Chillon” is not funny. Have you the heart in your breast--Sir--is it set like mine--a little to the left--has it the misgiving--if it wake in the night--perchance--itself to it--a timbrel is it--itself to it a tune?
These things are [reverent] holy, Sir, I touch them [reverently] hallowed, but persons who pray--dare remark [our] “Father”! You say I do not tell you all--Daisy confessed--and denied not.
Vesuvius dont talk--Etna dont-- [Thy] one of them--said a syllable--a thousand years ago, and Pompeii heard it, and hid forever--She could'nt look the world in the face, afterward, I suppose--Bashful Pompeii! “Tell you of the want”--you know what a leech is, don't you--and [remember that] Daisy's arm is small--and you have felt the horizon hav'nt you--and did the sea--never come so close as to make you dance?
I dont know what you can do for it--thank you--Master--but if I had the Beard on my cheek--like you--and you--had Daisy's petals--and you cared so for me--what would become of you? Could you forget me in fight, or flight--or the foreign land? Couldn't Carlo, and you and I walk in the meadows an hour--and nobody care but the Bobolink--and his --a silverscruple? I used to think when I died--I could see you--so I died as fast as I could--but the “Corporation” are going to heaven too so [Eternity] wont be sequestered--now [at all]--Say I may wait for you--say I need go with no stranger to the to me--untried [country] fold--I waited a long time--Master--but I can wait no more--wait till my hazel hair is dappled--and you carry the cane--then I can look at my watch--and if the Day is too far declined--we can take the chances [of] for Heaven--What would you do with me if I came “in white?” Have you the little chest to put the Alive--in?
I want to see you more--Sir--than all I wish for in this world--and the wish--altered a little--will be my only one for the skies.
Could you come to New England-- [this summer--could] would you come to Amherst --would you like to come--Master?
[Would it do harm--yet we both fear God--] Would Daisy disappoint you--no--she would'nt--Sir--if it were comfort forever--just to look in your face, while you looked in mine--then I could play in the woods till Dark--till you take me where Sundown cannot find us--and the true keep coming--till the town is full. [Will you tell me if you will?]
I did'nt think to tell you, you did'nt come to me “in white,” nor ever told me why,
No rose, yet felt myself a' bloom,
No bird--yet rode in Ether.
The elusive Master that Emily refers to is a mystery. The identity of the recipient has never been discovered, and it is entirely possible that no real recipient was ever intended. Looking at the several dashes in the poem, the first and most noticeable observation is their placement. In the poetry, a dash is almost always used as an ending punctuation to a line. In the letter however, the dash is more commonly seen in the middle of the sentence. Emily is notorious for run-on sentences, but the ending punctuation appear to be mostly periods and question marks. This is a definite shift when viewing her poetry. The poems use a dash as an ending mark because the dash signifies emotion to Emily when used in her poems. However, in her letters, it appears that the dash serves as a 'break' in her thoughts or as an added 'side note' to a thought. She also separates every Sir or Master in the poem with dashes; if it is not separated from the rest of the words with a dash, it is separated with commas. This clearly shows that Emily is taking the time to make sure that respect is given to the title or the person. These dashes then are also emotional in nature. Giving respect to someone is an emotional state of mind, as is showing a clear break or continuation of thought. From a grammatical standpoint, and using the correct definition of how a dash should be used in writing, they just simply do not make sense as punctuation. Her incorrect usage of the apostrophe in 'did'nt' also shows a disregard for common grammatical constructs. Emily was educated and therefore knew exactly when and where to use punctuation; she just chose not to use grammar in her works. Completely omitting the apostrophe from 'dont' is also an indicator of how little Dickinson cared for correct grammar. If she cared so little for correct grammatical usage, even in a letter to her Master, then it is unlikely that grammar played a significant role to her in any of her works.
http://www.edickinson.org/editions/1/image_sets/4905
Master,
If you saw a bullet hit a Bird--and he told you he was'nt shot--you might weep at his courtesy, but you would certainly doubt his word.
One drop more from the gash that stains your Daisy's bosom--then would you believe ? Thomas' faith in Anatomy, was stronger than his faith in faith. God made me-- [Sir] Master--I did'nt be--myself. I dont know how it was done. He built the heart in me--Bye and bye it outgrew me--and like the little mother--with the big child--I got tired holding him. I heard of a thing called “Redemption”--which rested men and women. You remember I asked you for it--you gave me something else. I forgot the Redemption [in the Redeemed--I didn't tell you for a long time, but I knew you had altered me--I] and was tired--no more-- [so dear did this stranger become that were it, or my breath--the Alternative--I had tossed the fellow away with a smile.] I am older--tonight, Master--but the love is the same--so are the moon and the crescent. If it had been God's will that I might breathe where you breathed--and find the place--myself--at night--if I (can) never forget that I am not with you--and that sorrow and frost are nearer than I--if I wish with a might I cannot repress--that mine were the Queen's place--the love of the Plantagenet is my only apology--To come nearer than presbyteries--and nearer than the new Coat--that the Tailor made--the prank of the Heart at play on the Heart--in holy Holiday--is forbidden me--You make me say it over--I fear you laugh--when I do not see-- [but] “Chillon” is not funny. Have you the heart in your breast--Sir--is it set like mine--a little to the left--has it the misgiving--if it wake in the night--perchance--itself to it--a timbrel is it--itself to it a tune?
These things are [reverent] holy, Sir, I touch them [reverently] hallowed, but persons who pray--dare remark [our] “Father”! You say I do not tell you all--Daisy confessed--and denied not.
Vesuvius dont talk--Etna dont-- [Thy] one of them--said a syllable--a thousand years ago, and Pompeii heard it, and hid forever--She could'nt look the world in the face, afterward, I suppose--Bashful Pompeii! “Tell you of the want”--you know what a leech is, don't you--and [remember that] Daisy's arm is small--and you have felt the horizon hav'nt you--and did the sea--never come so close as to make you dance?
I dont know what you can do for it--thank you--Master--but if I had the Beard on my cheek--like you--and you--had Daisy's petals--and you cared so for me--what would become of you? Could you forget me in fight, or flight--or the foreign land? Couldn't Carlo, and you and I walk in the meadows an hour--and nobody care but the Bobolink--and his --a silverscruple? I used to think when I died--I could see you--so I died as fast as I could--but the “Corporation” are going to heaven too so [Eternity] wont be sequestered--now [at all]--Say I may wait for you--say I need go with no stranger to the to me--untried [country] fold--I waited a long time--Master--but I can wait no more--wait till my hazel hair is dappled--and you carry the cane--then I can look at my watch--and if the Day is too far declined--we can take the chances [of] for Heaven--What would you do with me if I came “in white?” Have you the little chest to put the Alive--in?
I want to see you more--Sir--than all I wish for in this world--and the wish--altered a little--will be my only one for the skies.
Could you come to New England-- [this summer--could] would you come to Amherst --would you like to come--Master?
[Would it do harm--yet we both fear God--] Would Daisy disappoint you--no--she would'nt--Sir--if it were comfort forever--just to look in your face, while you looked in mine--then I could play in the woods till Dark--till you take me where Sundown cannot find us--and the true keep coming--till the town is full. [Will you tell me if you will?]
I did'nt think to tell you, you did'nt come to me “in white,” nor ever told me why,
No rose, yet felt myself a' bloom,
No bird--yet rode in Ether.
The elusive Master that Emily refers to is a mystery. The identity of the recipient has never been discovered, and it is entirely possible that no real recipient was ever intended. Looking at the several dashes in the poem, the first and most noticeable observation is their placement. In the poetry, a dash is almost always used as an ending punctuation to a line. In the letter however, the dash is more commonly seen in the middle of the sentence. Emily is notorious for run-on sentences, but the ending punctuation appear to be mostly periods and question marks. This is a definite shift when viewing her poetry. The poems use a dash as an ending mark because the dash signifies emotion to Emily when used in her poems. However, in her letters, it appears that the dash serves as a 'break' in her thoughts or as an added 'side note' to a thought. She also separates every Sir or Master in the poem with dashes; if it is not separated from the rest of the words with a dash, it is separated with commas. This clearly shows that Emily is taking the time to make sure that respect is given to the title or the person. These dashes then are also emotional in nature. Giving respect to someone is an emotional state of mind, as is showing a clear break or continuation of thought. From a grammatical standpoint, and using the correct definition of how a dash should be used in writing, they just simply do not make sense as punctuation. Her incorrect usage of the apostrophe in 'did'nt' also shows a disregard for common grammatical constructs. Emily was educated and therefore knew exactly when and where to use punctuation; she just chose not to use grammar in her works. Completely omitting the apostrophe from 'dont' is also an indicator of how little Dickinson cared for correct grammar. If she cared so little for correct grammatical usage, even in a letter to her Master, then it is unlikely that grammar played a significant role to her in any of her works.