“Dickinson” executes its surprisingly high-concept premise on all levels, succeeding as a drama, comedy, romance, surreal fantasy, and coming-of-age story. Its excellence can be sliced into even thinner sub-categories, too: It’s great as a tender sapphic romance, as a series of rewarding in-jokes for former English majors, and as an extended meditation on the painful work of crafting a legacy. The series never goes for the cheap take on anything, from proto-feminism to the abolition movement to mental illness. Instead, it examines all sides of its setting and themes with a bright curiosity that matches its protagonist’s ever-expanding views of the world.

The show only ran for three quick seasons, but showrunner Alena Smith’s complex, fully realized vision remained unwavering throughout its brief tenure. “Dickinson” is, first and foremost, a resetting of the record about a woman who seems to have been historically misunderstood. A love letter to excitable introverts, it presents Emily as a strong-willed, ultimately fulfilled creative force who made a major impact on her community, rather than the shy, lonely woman history sometimes remembers her as.

“Dickinson” may initially seem like it’s playing fast and loose with history — one of its best moments features characters getting low to Carnage’s “I Like Tuh,” after all — but it’s clearly made by history and literature geeks. The Dickinson Extended Literary Universe includes not only Mulaney’s Thoreau, but also bellowing, deathbed-obsessed Walt Whitman (Billy Eichner), ruthlessly capitalist Louisa May Alcott (Zosia Mamet), proud polyglot Sojourner Truth (Ziwe), and many more familiar faces. The show is at once slyly critical of the public artist persona, and endlessly reverent about the actual act of making art.

It’s also Steinfeld’s best work to date. As Emily, she can be daydreamy, stubborn, inspired, anxious, giddy, and more, but no matter how she feels, she’s utterly endearing. The series is a showcase for all its actors, letting Krakowski drop screamingly funny lines into otherwise serious scenes and giving Baryshnikov a chance to get totally weird as the Dickinson family’s true eccentric. When Hunt and Steinfeld share scenes, the series transforms into a love story so powerful it eclipses everything else entirely. If “Dickinson” is about the limitlessness of imagination, its grounding force is a love that flourishes in a private world of one’s own creation.