Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “Snow flakes”
Emily Dickinson’s speaker in this jaunty little poem dramatizes an effusion of emotion after becoming enthralled by watching the many machinations of snowflakes as they dance their way through the air before landing on their targets of earthly entities.
Introduction and Text of “Snow flakes”
In Thomas Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, the text I use for these commentaries, the poem, “Snow flakes.,” appears to be the only poem with a title. However, one might reasonably argue that the seeming title cannot be considered a true title.
In none of the other poems—1,775 in all—does a title grace and define. That any poet would appear so consistent and then offer such an anomaly should raise the doubt that only one poem out of close to two thousand has a title. There are three reasons for doubting that the poem has a title and therefore realizing that the so-called title functions very differently from most titles.
First, the noun “snowflake” is one word, and Dickinson has clearly written two words, and that act converts the one word to a sentence. A snowflake is a piece of snow that has “flaked off” from a larger entity; thus “snow flakes.” Because of the fact that “Snow flakes.” looks like a sentence, it is wise to think of it as a sentence or first line of the poem, and not a title.
Second, that form of the so-called title itself demonstrates that the title is indeed merely the first line of the poem, “Snow flakes.” The period at the end—along with the fact that there are two words—indicates a sentence.
Emily Dickinson was a voracious reader, and she was well aware that titles contain no end punctuation. And although she did engage in innovative capitalization, punctuation, and techniques employing the use of space and dash, there is no reason to assume that she would title one poem out 1,775, and deliberately make the title look like an ordinary sentence.
Three, by beginning with an act, claiming that “snow flakes,” the speaker is heralding the very active “dance” that she creates as she personifies the snowflakes as ballerinas. Even though Johnson has placed, “Snow flakes.,” in the position which a title would occupy, I suggest that the proper form would simply place the line as the first line of the poem.
I do admit that the hand-written copy of “Snow flakes.” appears to center the line, still the spacing between the line and the rest of the poem is comparable to the remaining lines of the poem.
Riddle Poem? Maybe Not
“Snow flakes” seems to have been intended to function as one of Emily Dickinson’s riddle poems, but it may be that she decided to add the first line because that poem might have remained unintelligible as a riddle. Readers may not be able to understand that this poem is speaking about flakes of snow without the poet offering that first line.
Unlike her obvious riddles that do not name the object such as “It sifts from Leaden Sieves” and “I like to see it lap the Miles,” this one would offer too many other possibilities to function as a workable riddle-poem, thus the addition of the first line, which can be mistaken for a title.
Snow flakes
Snow flakes. I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly I did resign the prig, And ten of my once stately toes Are marshalled for a jig!
Commentary on “Snow flakes”
Observing fakes of snow create in the speaker’s mind a phantasmagoric dance with myriad ballerinas competing for visual attention.
First Movement: Dancing Snow Ballerinas
Snow flakes. I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town,
The speaker begins with the odd claim that snow can be perceived as breaking into little pieces or “flakes”; she likely wants the reader to take the term “flakes” as both a noun and a verb—a pun of sorts.
This kind of function can often be detected in Dickinson’s poems; she quite frequently employs one part of speech to function as another or both, as in “The Soul selects her own Society” where in the lines, “To her divine Majority – Present no more,” the word “Present” functions both as an adjective and a verb in the imperative mood.
The speaker then begins the report of her activity. She is observing flakes of snow falling, likely just outside her window, and she begins to count them. She continues to count the flakes, and suddenly she realizes that they seem to be dancing.
It then occurs to her that they are like ballerinas, so she personifies the flake placing “slippers” on the imagined feet, and she is off to the races! Those ballerinas are performing their dance, as they are leaping and bounding all over town.
Second Movement: Capturing the Scene
And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down.
At this point, watching the dancing snow flakes that have become countless graceful ballerinas in her imaginative mind, she then grabs “a pencil” to take notes on their movements. Of course, she is referring to taking notes for a poem about what she is observing.
She calls the dancers “rebels”; they seem to rebel against any way of describing them. Thought after thought is passing through her mind, and she has to grab that writing instrument and begin to capture some of those quickly passing images.
Poets sometimes feel that a poem writes itself, but only if the poet can capture the words in time, for so often, an image will present itself only to be lost to the next rapidly occurring image.
Most writers keep writing equipment—paper and pen, nowadays computer tablets—in case some graceful ideas clothed in beautiful, meaningful language come dancing across the writer’s mental vision.
Third Movement: Overwhelmed by Jolly Dancers
And then they grew so jolly I did resign the prig,
As the speaker continues to take notes and watch those dancers, they become “so jolly” that she feels that they are becoming downright decadent in their outlandish flurry. Because of this decadence, she finds she has to discontinue this observation; likely she is feeling overwhelmed trying to take account of those millions of dancers.
If one tries to imagine a ballet stage with millions of ballerinas all competing for one’s attention, one gets the idea of how the speaker felt watching and trying to see each dancing snowflake.
Fourth Movement: Itching to Dance
And ten of my once stately toes Are marshalled for a jig!
The priggish or intrusively haughty nature of such a phantasmagoria stops the speaker from her fitful attempt to capture all the machinations of this metaphoric ballet; thus, she lays down her pencil, likely gives a sigh, but then an odd things occurs. She notices that her own toes are hankering to imitate that dance that the speaker has just observed and described.
The speaker’s toes were “once stately,” remaining dignified and stationary in her shoes, but now they are becoming as rebellious as those dancing snow flakes; they want the speaker to get up and engage them in a dance. They want to commit to a “jig,” having been prompted by all those flaking snow ballerinas.
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose”
Emily Dickinson loved flowers, as well as all other creatures of nature. The rose became a symbol for her, signifying beauty and the evanescence of all natural beings. From a lament for a single rose, she begins to muse on the relationship of the Divine to His creation, including her own creations.
Introduction with Text of “Nobody knows this little Rose”
The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose” is bemoaning the sadness that a “little Rose” will surely die without having attracted attention during its sojourn on the earthly plane. Only a bee, a bird, a butterfly, along with a gentle wind and the speaker will likely have even noticed that such a beautiful entity had existed.
In observing that it is quite easy for this little rose to succumb to death, the speaker goes into mourning for that death. Such beauty, the speaker opines, should not be so easily lost but instead should attract the attention it deserves.Perhaps it should even have its stature elevated to a higher plane of being than the mere physical level of being, which it is so easily vanquished.
Nobody knows this little Rose
Nobody knows this little Rose – It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee. Only a Bee will miss it – Only a Butterfly, Hastening from far journey – On its breast to lie – Only a Bird will wonder – Only a Breeze will sigh – Ah Little Rose – how easy For such as thee to die!
Commentary on “Nobody knows this little Rose”
The speaker is musing about the death of a small rose. She imagines its family mourning the rose’s absence. The speaker, while musing to herself, incidentally addresses God in the opening movement and then the rose itself in the final movement.
First Movement: Lamentation for the Unknown
Nobody knows this little Rose – It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
The speaker begins her lament by claiming that no one is acquainted with her subject, a simple, small rose. She has plucked this little rose, which apparently was growing in the wild.
The speaker speculates that this little rose might be “a pilgrim” for it was growing away from other flower beds. She then rather casually asks someone, likely God, or Mother Nature about her own act.
Although formed as a question, the speaker actually reveals the fact that she did pluck the little flower and then offered it up to “thee.” It remains a strange confession, but it is likely that the act of plucking the rose has set her off to realizing that it will now die. But instead of just enjoying its beauty, she continues to speculate about the life of the little flower.
Second Movement: Only Missing
Only a Bee will miss it – Only a Butterfly, Hastening from far journey – On its breast to lie –
In her speculation, the speaker takes into account who might have been its visitors. She exaggerates that a solitary bee “will miss” the rose because of the speaker’s act. But after saying “only” a bee will note that the little rose is missing, she remembers that likely a “butterfly” will also note its absence.
The butterfly will have traveled perhaps miles to rest upon the little rose’s “breast.” And the butterfly, the speaker speculates, will have been hurrying to finish its “journey” that led it to the rose’s abode. Now after it makes that hastened trip, it will be astonished, or perhaps frustrated, that the little flower has gone missing.
Third Movement: The Ease of Dying
Only a Bird will wonder – Only a Breeze will sigh – Ah Little Rose – how easy For such as thee to die!
The speaker continues to catalogue those creatures who will be missing the little rose. She notes that in addition to the bee and the butterfly, some bird is going to wonder what happened to the flower. The last entity to ponder the absence of the little rose is the “Breeze,” which will “sigh” as it wafts over the location that once held the sweet fragrance of the rose.
After the speaker’s intense musing to herself and to the Blessèd Creator of nature, she then addresses the rose itself, but all she can do is offer a simple, humble remark about how “easy” it is for a creature such as the “Little Rose” “to die!” Her excited utterance, however, belies the simplicity of the words. Her heart is filled with the sadness and sorrow that accompany the missing of loved ones.
The speaker has created and assembled a family for the little rose: a bee, a butterfly, a bird, and a breeze. All of these creatures of nature have interacted with the rose, and now the speaker is musing on how they will be affected by the flower’s absence.
They will all miss her, and the speaker knows how missing a loved one feels. The ease with which a little unknown creature dies does not assuage the pain its absence will cause.
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “Garland for Queens, may be”
The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “Garland for Queens, may be” is paying tribute to the beautiful flower, the rose. The treatment of this “Rose” contrasts greatly with the treatment of the “Little Rose” in Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose.”
Introduction with Text of “Garland for Queens, may be”
The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “Garland for Queens, may be” holds a ceremony to announce that holy orders have been bestowed on this certain “Rose” that she has encountered and is visiting.
The speaker begins by hinting at the traditional description of the nature of garlanding and bestowing laurels on royalty and on others who have excelled in certain areas of achievement.
The treatment of this “Rose” contrasts greatly with the treatment of the “Little Rose” in Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose.”
The speaker holds the rose in such high regard that she feels it deserves more credit than a simple observance of its beauty and wonderful fragrance would afford. Instead of offering a poem of ordinary appreciation, she is offering her highly formalized ceremony to honor that rose.
While some may argue that such exaggeration borders on the pathetic fallacy, it should be noted that the elegance with which the poet has crafted her ceremony is simply offering a way of looking at a natural object, and that way is filled with love and appreciation.
Garland for Queens, may be
Garland for Queens, may be – Laurels – for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah – but remembering me – Ah – but remembering thee – Nature in chivalry – Nature in charity – Nature in equity – This Rose ordained!
Commentary on “Garland for Queens, may be”
Honoring with a solemn and formalized tribute, the speaker makes the “Rose” the honored guest on whom she is bestowing holy orders. Her love for the beauty of the rose allows her to set the flower alongside queens and other high achievers without trepidation.
First Movement: Traditional Yet Unique
Garland for Queens, may be – Laurels – for rare degree Of soul or sword.
The speaker begins her tribute by offering a unique defining description of the nature of the garland and laurels for queens. Although her definition hints at the traditional employment of those items, she does stipulate that that employment “may be”—indicating that such laurels and garlands may also be at times other than residing within the framework of her unique definition.
The speaker does acknowledge that the presenting of “laurels” remains “rare.” But they remain within the purview of “soul or sword.”
One becomes garlanded with laurels for some uncommon, special achievement within the realm of creativity of accomplishment in any number of areas such a literature, science, or even sports as marked by “soul” or likely even more often in the realm of patriotic defense of one’s nation through service in the nation’s military or for vanquishing enemies foreign or domestic, that is, by “sword.”
Second Movement: Back to Everyday
Ah – but remembering me – Ah – but remembering thee –
The speaker’s opening remark of her tribute has taken her listeners to supernal realms often considered far from the ordinary, everyday life of the average citizen. She thus brings the discourse back to herself and to her listeners.
She insists that while keeping in mind the profound and royal plane of the employment of garlands and laurels, we must include ourselves in the vast journey of accomplishment or what’s tradition for?
The speaker quite literally commands through the present participle that minds take their attention from the high and mighty to the representatives of the vast ordinary—”me” and “thee.”
Her employment of the informal second person demonstrates the intimate nature that she gently guides her listeners to accept with her otherwise highly formalized tribute. Without such intimacy, she knows their acceptance of her ultimate bestowal on a flower of such a claim as she intends to make would be impossible.
Third Movement: Deserving Qualities
Nature in chivalry – Nature in charity – Nature in equity –
The speaker then directs her audience, whom she envisions as gathered for such as a coronation or ceremony, to visualize the bestowing of a garland of laurels upon an important personage. She thus announces the qualities that the target of her tribute possesses. The nature of that important target can be detected in three qualities that guarantee the superior achievement of the recipient: chivalry, charity, and equity.
That recipient excels in “chivalry,” as she places herself in the arms of those who celebrate important events such as birthdays, christenings, and even funerals. The nature of the recipient also includes that quality of excellence in offering “charity.”
Flowers bloom, spread their beauty, their fragrance freely, gayly, as well as chivalrously. This particular flower remains fair and evenhanded (“equity”) on all occasions in which it is often featured.
Its nature allows it to ascend to all sensibilities through its various physical parts as well as its strong impression on the minds and hearts of those who are fortunate enough to have been offered the rose in bouquets.
Fourth Movement: Bestowal of Holy Orders
This Rose ordained!
Finally, the speaker reveals the target of her praise, the recipient of this garland of praise. She reports that the “Rose” has been ordained, singled out for its special achievement in the areas she has just specified.
By employing the term “ordain,” the speaker implies that not only is the rose to be garlanded with the ordinary laurels for praise, but that this Rose is receiving holy orders.
This Rose may now go forth during its summer of splendor and preach its beauty and its fragrance to all who are fortunate enough to behold it. The beauty of this particular rose has motived this speaker to praise it to high heaven.
After pronouncing the importance of garlanded queens through sometimes even mundane circumstances and achievement, and after assigning near divine qualities to this rose, the speaker had nowhere else to go for praise but to bestow those holy orders on it.
And to this speaker the truth that the rose speaks to her allows her to view its beautiful blossom and to breathe in the marvelous fragrance of the rose with even more joy and abandon.
Thou must have seen them Struggling to keep their pace, Not knowing they are blind, Crippled, and alone. They would come to Thee If only they knew. How can they know? When they are blind and deaf? Thy Name is everywhere, But they cannot hear it. Thy Name is in their hearts, But they do not feel it. O Divine Beloved, Give Thyself to them anyway. They are Thy wondering pilgrims Though they know it not. O Divine Beloved, Grip their souls so tight That they can no longer Walk this hell With their smug hatred Of the Name they cannot hear, Of the Name they cannot say. O Divine Beloved, They have caught a syllable, They have caught a glimmer Of Thy sacredness. Give them more, give them more So they will know that they Can no longer go on without Thee.
In a slightly different version of this poem/prayer appearing in my collection Singing in Soul Silence: Voice of Faith, I employed the modern use of second person singular.
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “If recollecting were forgetting”
Emily Dickinson’s speaker in “If recollecting were forgetting” follows a line of thought that mirrors obliquely that of Aristotelian logic—searching for a way of thinking in order to find a way of knowing.
Introduction with Text of “If recollecting were forgetting”
Emily Dickinson has been noted for having read and studied widely in history, science, and philosophy, and this little poem could likely have happened after she happened upon the discourses of Aristotle’s Organon.
While her speaker seems to be employing, however creatively, the premise of the syllogism, her language choices are so direct and simple that she makes her position quite clear without engaging in the jargon of philosophical logic.
If recollecting were forgetting
If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not. And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot. And if to miss, were merry, And to mourn, were gay, How very blithe the fingers That gathered this, Today!
Commentary on “If recollecting were forgetting”
The speaker is exploring the nature of meaning as it intrudes upon the engagement of the human mind and heart with sorrow and mourning.
First Movement: Musing and Meaning
If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not.
The speaker is musing on the nature of meaning, employing the “if/then” structure: “if” one event occurs, “then” another event follows. She first employs what appears to be a paradox, rendering one act the opposite of itself.
She inverts hypothetically the literal meanings of “recollecting” and “forgetting.” She is playing both a word game and a meaning game: if the opposite of one act is, in fact, its opposite, then what will happen?
The speaker specifically claims that she would not “remember,” that is, she would not be “recollecting” if remember meant “forgetting.” Ultimately, this seemingly confusing turnabout simply emphasizes her strong determination not to forget. She does not offer any clue regarding what she might remember or forget, but such information is not necessary to this complex philosophically juxtapostional cogitation.
The delineation regarding the definition of opposites renders thought both wavy and stationary. The “if” clause introduces the meaning trade-off, while the “then” clause states a definitive claim. The mind weaves in considering the “if” clause that reverses the meaning of the terms involved but then returns to a stationary position in order to accept the “then” clause.
Second Movement: The Emphasis of Reversal
And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot.
In the second movement, the speaker continues her musing on transference but in reverse. Interestingly, this “if” clause juxtaposition does not result in the same event as when the very same two terms were first offered in opposition to each other. Instead of a stationary claim, the speaker now asserts that she merely got close to “forgetting.”
As readers refer back to her original claim in the first movement, they are struck by the fact that she is saying she prizes remembrance over forgetfulness—unsurprising that this speaker of minimalism would make such a choice.
Of course, in the pairs of opposites that drive the world living under the delusive spell of maya, one of the pairs is nearly always a positive for the good while its opposite is usually considered negative, representing the opposite of good. In the pairs of opposites focused on here—to forget vs. to remember—the obvious positive of the pair is to remember.
The complexity of the second premise does lend itself to the difference that the speaker has infixed in the contrast she had created between the first two movements. That she nearly forgot, but did not completely forget, demonstrates her favoring the positive peg of the pair of opposites, forgetting and remembering. Thus, if she recalled, which is actually forgetting, she approached that state but did not enter it as she did in the first movement when remembering was actually forgetting.
Third Movement: Missing and Mourning
And if to miss, were merry, And to mourn, were gay,
Having resolved the issue of forgetting and remembering, the speaker moves on to a new set of opposites which are not of the same paired quality as those with which she began in the first two movements. She is now simply reversing the traditionally accepted nature of missing and mourning. When an individual is missing a loved one, that individual mourns.
When the human heart and mind mourn, they are anything but “gay,” that is, happy or cheerful. But then the speaker makes it clear that she intends to follow the same line of thinking that she has explored in the two opening movements, the “if/then” structure.
But the “then” part of the structure has to wait to be expressed in the next movement because the speaker has now focused on two encompassing acts, not merely word meaning. If missing someone were considered a happy, cheerful situation instead of “mourn[ing]” that loss, and if mourning the loss, or missing someone were considered also happy, cheerful, then what happens?
Instead of an exact tit-for-tat, that is, meaning for meaning, the speaker has offered two negative acts as representing a positive, setting up a mystery as to how this situation can be resolved.
Fourth Movement: Nullification or Homogenization
How very blithe the fingers That gathered this, Today!
Finally, the speaker concludes the implied “then” clause with the excited utterance indicating that the person who has concocted this little exercise has remained cheerfully unconcerned with it all.
If all that went before were the actual situation instead of being their opposites, then those “fingers” responsible for “gather[ing]” this philosophical pastiche would be proven to be mindlessly unimpressive.
“Today!” placed with an exclamation mark heralds the excited notion that turning things upside down in order to look at them from a new position in the present, instead of accepting the pain and anguish of the past and dealing with it.
This bizarre heralding impels the mind to stiffen like “blithe . . . fingers.” Fingers that are heedless, indifferent, and uncaring represent the mind that drives the fingers. Quite obviously, fingers cannot gather, think, move, or do anything without the mind first engaging with an idea that will drive the activity. Thus, it is the mind that is blithe working through the fingers.
The philosophical result of the four movements concludes that while the positive may be chosen by the masterfully thinking, moving mind, a simple juxtaposition that renders one quality its opposite may rearrange the very atoms of the brain that then will create a world that does not exist and never can. The push for dominance of one pair of any pair of opposites will result in the nullification or homogenization of any blinkered philosophical stance.
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed”
Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed” is one of her most enthralling little poems. In this poem, the speaker is likening spiritual ardor to drunkenness.
Introduction and Text of “I taste a liquor never brewed”
The theme of Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed” is similar to Paramahansa Yogananda’s chant: “I will sing thy Name, I will drink thy Name, and get all drunk, O, with thy Name!”
Dickinson’s speaker proclaims a spiritual consciousness. The poem extends the metaphor of drunkenness to describe the status of a soul in mystical union with the Divine.
Dickinson’s speaker in “I taste a liquor never brewed” describes a consciousness steeped in a mystical state that mimics inebriation. She is inspired and enthralled seemingly just by breathing the air around her.
The speaker’s consciousness becomes aware of itself and propels her into an immense universe that is difficult to describe. Thus she uses the alcohol metaphor to approximate the physical sensation of what she is experiencing spiritually.
Thomas H. Johnson numbered this poem #214 in his useful work, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, which restored Dickinson’s peculiar punctuation and elliptical style. As usual, Dickinson employed slant rime or near rime; for example, she rimes Pearl and Alcohol.
I taste a liquor never brewed
I taste a liquor never brewed – From Tankards scooped in Pearl – Not all the Vats upon the Rhine Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of Air – am I – And Debauchee of Dew – Reeling – thro endless summer days – From inns of Molten Blue –
When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee Out of the Foxglove’s door – When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” – I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats – And Saints – to windows run – To see the little Tippler Leaning against the – Sun —
Commentary on “I taste a liquor never brewed”
Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed” is one of the poet’s most enthralling little poems, employing the metaphor of drunkenness to describe spiritual ardor.
Stanza 1: Imbibing a Non-Brewed Beverage
I taste a liquor never brewed – From Tankards scooped in Pearl – Not all the Vats upon the Rhine Yield such an Alcohol!
The speaker announces that she has been imbibing a drink, but that beverage is not one that has been brewed, which eliminates alcohol, tea, and coffee, this is, the beverages which have mind-altering capabilities. She then begins an extended metaphor, likening the effect of her “liquor” to that of an alcoholic beverage.
The “Tankards scooped in Pearl” simulate the vessels from which the speaker has been imbibing her rare concoction. The consciousness which the speaker wishes to describe transcends the physical consciousness of an alcohol hum; thus the speaker must resort to metaphor to communicate as nearly as possible this ineffable state.
Those rare tankards having been “scooped in Pearl” spiritually correspond to the nature of the soul. She has, in fact, drunk a beverage that has not been brewed from a vessel that has not been manufactured by human hands.
Stanza 2: It Resembles Being Drunk
Inebriate of Air – am I – And Debauchee of Dew – Reeling – thro endless summer days – From inns of Molten Blue –
Dickinson’s speaker continues her metaphor by revealing that the feeling she is experiencing is like being drunk on air; thus the act of simply taking a breath of air has the power to intoxicate her.
Not only air, but the “Dew” has this delicious effect. Further physical realities like a summer day make her feel that she has been drinking at a tavern, “Inns of Molten Blue.” All this imbibing leaves her “reeling” from this rare form of intoxicant.
Stanza 3: A Drunken State That Never Ceases
When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee Out of the Foxglove’s door – When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” – I shall but drink the more!
On the stage of nature, the speaker is accompanied by “bees and butterflies,” and these fellow creatures quite literally imbibe nectar from flowers. The speaker’s brand of liquor has an advantage over that of the bees. They have to stop their imbibing and leave their blossoms or else they will become trapped as the petals close up for the night.
But because of the spiritual nature of this speaker’s intoxication, she does not have stop drinking. She can enjoy her drunken state without end. Only on the physical plane do activities begin and end; on the spiritual plane, the intoxication has no need to cease. The eternal soul is without boundaries of space and time.
Stanza 4; The Dash That Runs to Eternity
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats – And Saints – to windows run – To see the little Tippler Leaning against the – Sun –
The speaker boasts that she will never have to curtail her mode of mystical intoxication. As the penultimate stanza ends with the claim, “I shall but drink the more!,” the idea continues into the final stanza. By placing the time of her stopping her drinking at two fantastic events that will never occur, she emphatically asserts that she will never have to stop her drinking binge.
When the highest order of angels, the “Seraphs,” commit the unlikely act of “swing[ing] their snowy Hats,” and curious saints run to windows, only then shall she cease her imbibing. That time is never because Seraphs and saints do not comport themselves with such behavior.
The speaker calls herself “the little Tippler” and positions herself “[l]eaning against the — Sun.” Another impossible act on the physical level, but one quite possible on the mystical.
The final clue that the speaker is asserting her ability never to stop drinking of the mystical wine is the final punctuation of the dash — that concludes her report. The period, question mark, or exclamation mark, as some editors have employed, denote finality while the dash does not.
Thomas H. Johnson has restored the dash — to this poem in his The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. When other versions lose the Dickinsonian dash, they also lose a nuance of her meaning.
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”
Emily Dickinson’s “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir” features prominently a surprising demand of the Divine Belovèd Creator. The Dickinsonian speaker always holds in great reverence and regard the Creator of the cosmic universe and all of earthly nature.
Introduction with Text of “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”
Emily Dickinson’s poem, “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,” demonstrates the poet’s depth of scientific knowledge of the world as well as her insight into the spiritual significance that such scientific knowledge implies for human evolution.
The poem features prominently a surprising demand of the Divine Belovèd Creator. The Dickinsonian speaker always holds in great reverence and regard the Creator of the cosmic universe and all of earthly nature.
She dramatizes in poetic form her physical world observations to reveal her awareness of the Divine Creator’s existence both within the natural world and outside of that natural world, extending into the realm of spirit.
The octave is structured by a “when-then” time sequence: when one thing happens, then the other may be expected to happen or may be desired to happen. In this poem, the structure adds a complex sub-feature to the equation.
Not only is the speaker offering a “when” structure that encompasses three natural phenomena of plant and animal kingdom activity, but she is also adding a third element from the human realm to the “when” clause.
The speaker has thus inserted herself into the narrative in an unobtrusive way through the employment of the synecdochic”hand.” After setting up the “when” application, she engages her own action and then offers the second half of the “when-then” function.
That “then” application, however, delivers a subtle demand of the Belovèd Creator—one that may at first appear somewhat shocking but yet remains comprehensible and infinitely appropriate.
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done – When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun – The hand that paused to gather Upon this Summer’s day Will idle lie – in Auburn – Then take my flowers – pray!
“When Roses cease to bloom, Sir” rendered in song
Commentary on “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”
Emily Dickinson’s “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir” demonstrates the poet’s depth of knowledge of the science of the evolutionary progress, as well as her insight into the spiritual significance that such knowledge suggests for the human mind and heart on its path through evolutionary advancement.
First Movement: Emphasis on Beauty
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done –
The speaker begins the “when” function by addressing the Divine Ineffable Reality. She suggests that she will be asking for some favor after flowers have come and gone. She allows “Roses” and “Violets” to represent all natural vegetation, which would include all plants growing in the fields, along the streets, and in her own vegetable garden.
By allowing only two lovely flowers to represent all of the plant kingdom, the speaker is demonstrating her emphasis on her love of beauty. The speaker then demonstrates that she is including both domesticated plants—roses, and those that continue to grow wild—violets.
The Blessèd Author of creation as well as the speaker’s listeners/readers are invited to observe that the speaker keeps her mind firmly on her goal, her own creation of beauty and engagement in health and wholesomeness.
Second Movement: Evolution from Plant to Animal
When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun –
The speaker then turns to the animal kingdom, allowing the simple bumblebee to represent that kingdom. The “Bumblebees” have engaged in “solemn flight” and like the roses and violets are now passing out of existence.
Unlike the rose that “cease[s] to bloom” and the violet whose passing out of existence is qualified as merely “done,” the bee, an evolutionarily higher-stationed member of the animal kingdom, “pass[es] beyond the Sun.”
The speaker makes the distinction between the two kingdoms in this marvelously ingenious way–how they cease their summer sojourn. As flowers simply pass away by simple cessation, the bees have engaged in the physical act of moving, which is denied plants rooted to the earth; thus, the speaker creates the bees’ metaphorical passing beyond light.
Even though the souls of all those creatures remain distinct entities in the mind of their Creator, they express in very different ways according to their current incarnation on earth, representative of their individual and collective karma. It is only natural that the higher evolved bee would demonstrate an ability beyond that of the lower plant world.
And the speaker’s ability to place this distinction in such a minimalist setting demonstrates this speaker’s understanding regarding the existence of the hierarchy to which earthly creatures remain attached until their final liberation. All created beings must pass through this hierarchical system on their way from lowest to highest form on the evolutionary scale.
Third Movement: The Human in Creation
The hand that paused to gather Upon this Summer’s day
The speaker has now quit her focus on the plant and animal kingdoms and is focusing on the simple human feature of a “hand,” a synecdochic representative of the human physical encasement.
That hand pauses. Instead of moving to pluck and collect those flowers before they are gone, this hand leaves them in place. Instead of shooing away the bees, the speaker simply takes the measure of their movement, while fashioning the observation that distinguishes the flowers from the bees.
All summer long, the speaker has observed the bees extracting nectar from the flowers. The relationship between the flowers and the nectar-gathering bees has impressed upon the mind of the speaker the symbiotic relationship that exists in nature and that extends to the human being as an integral part of that natural scenario.
But the speaker now holds her request of the Divine Creator until she has described her own situation, her own participation in the drama that she has created in the garden of her mind, heart, and soul.
Her poetic garden contains multitudes, and the ability to grow metaphorical, metaphysical flowers, bees, human hands remains her greatest challenge and strongest ability.
Fourth Movement: The Metaphysical Garden of Verse
Will idle lie – in Auburn – Then take my flowers – pray!
That human hand that pauses does so to continue its construction of her own metaphysical, poetic creation—that original garden into which she had early on invited her brother to visit.
After that hand becomes “idle,” it will cease creating those metaphysical flowers and those metaphysical bees. Therefore, the speaker then demands of the Belovèd “Sir” that He “take [her] flowers”—adding for emphasis, “pray!”
After the speaker herself has ceased blooming and flying beyond the sun and pausing from the labor of metaphorical, metaphysical garden creation, her physical form will exist like a bug in amber and become unresponsive and “lie – in Auburn.” Thus, the clever speaker is requesting through a strong demand that the Divine Gardener accept her metaphysical flowers.
Such a demand may seem infinitely cheeky of a mere created child of the Master Creator of the Cosmos, but the speaker has demonstrated repeatedly that she remains steadfast in her devotion and confident in her ability to create flowers—offerings—that are acceptable to a most discriminating Divine Creator.
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