Linda's Literary Home

Author: Linda Sue Grimes

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I gave myself to Him”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 gave myself to Him”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “I gave myself to Him” is musing on the imbalance that remains even after one has surrendered one’s life to God the Creator.

    Introduction and Text of “I gave myself to Him”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “I gave myself to Him” is exploring the idea that after having devoted her attention to the Creator by giving herself “to Him,” she finds that the giving of such a gift cannot be mutual.  She suggests the idea that the gift of herself will surely disappoint the Giver and Creator of all things.

    She leaves open the notion there may be some mutual gain because “[s]ome” have “found it” so.  She is likely referring to testimony from the saints who assure their listening audience of the great riches attained by such surrender to God.

    The speaker is likely reassuring herself that such a bargain cannot bring about an occasion to boast, nor can it eliminate the necessity to remain humble.  Her ultimate conclusion may seem pessimistic at first. 

    However, God remains the ultimate authority to which the human heart, mind, and soul must surrender regardless of any emphasis of mutuality in considering gain and loss.  Thus without stating the conclusion directly, the speaker is implying that the human debt to God has to remain insolvent until the soul grasps its relationship to its Creator.

    I gave myself to Him

    I gave myself to Him –
    And took Himself, for Pay,
    The solemn contract of a Life
    Was ratified, this way –

    The Wealth might disappoint –
    Myself a poorer prove
    Than this great Purchaser suspect,
    The Daily Own – of Love

    Depreciate the Vision –
    But till the Merchant buy –
    Still Fable – in the Isles of Spice –
    The subtle Cargoes – lie –

    At least – ’tis Mutual – Risk –
    Some – found it – Mutual Gain –
    Sweet Debt of Life – Each Night to owe –
    Insolvent – every Noon –

    Commentary on “I gave myself to Him”

    The speaker is exploring the nature of her relationship with her Divine Creator, the Heavenly Father, Divine Mother, or God.  Although she professes to have given her life to her Creator or Heavenly Father, she discovers that she still owes a debt that can never fully be repaid.

    First Stanza:  Surrendering Her Life to the Divine 

    I gave myself to Him –
    And took Himself, for Pay,
    The solemn contract of a Life
    Was ratified, this way –

    The speaker begins with a somewhat ambiguous statement that she has given herself to “Him.”  The capitalized, masculine pronoun “Him” indicates she is likely referring to her Creator (God).  Such capitalization is known as reverential or biblical capitalization.  She continues to employ the reverential capital in the second line with the reflexive, masculine pronoun “Himself.” 

    The idea of giving oneself or one’s life to God is hardly a novel one.  The religious and spiritual minded become positively gleeful at the notion of surrendering their lives to their Creator.  So upon first encountering the speaker’s claim, the reader will then wonder what new or fascinating rendition of such a confession might be in the offing.

    The speaker then begins to elaborate.  After surrendering herself to God, the speaker affirms that her life became a reality. Her “contract” offers her “Pay,” or something substantial for her surrender.

    That contract, in fact, “ratified” her existence.  Just as a political contract, such as the American Constitution, had to be ratified, the speaker’s life was ratified or put into existence by affirmation by the contract she made when she gave her life to God.

    Second Stanza:  An Economics (Trade) Metaphor 

    The Wealth might disappoint –
    Myself a poorer prove
    Than this great Purchaser suspect,
    The Daily Own – of Love

    The speaker then admits that the “Purchaser” of her insignificant life might well be disappointed because she may prove to be “poorer” than the Purchaser of her contract might have suspected.

    The “great Purchaser” (God) may find that her ability to offer love may not be up to the standards He might expect.  Of course, she is demonstrating her ability to remain humble because she is well aware that God’s love will always outweigh, outshine, and outpace her own.

    Likely she is simply thinking of or musing on possibilities, as she employs an economics (trade) metaphor with such terms as “wealth,” “Purchaser,” and “Own.”   She cannot know how important this life choice is going to be for her ability to love or to navigate the seas upon which her life’s boat will have to sail.  

    The speaker can only contemplate at this point, although she does know she can be certain that God’s love will always be greater than she could ever afford; the inevitability of such remains a given, a concept that even the most ardent atheist can grasp even if not accept.

    Third Stanza:  Speculating on Her Importance

    Depreciate the Vision –
    But till the Merchant buy –
    Still Fable – in the Isles of Spice –
    The subtle Cargoes – lie –

    The speaker continues to muse and employ a trade metaphor.  She suggests that one must lower expectations until the time has arrived to sell the product.  Although she has, in fact, given her life over to the “Purchaser,” she has continued to speculate about her own importance.  

    Thus she wonders if she might have oversold her own self in the process.  She then suggests that like the precious “Cargoes” that remain in places from which rich spices are harvested, she may have presented herself as a fabulous commodity that is yet to be realized, like those “subtle Cargoes.”  They remain “subtle” until they are delivered.  And until they are delivered they simply rest or “lie” in one place.

    Fourth Stanza:  Equal Loss – Equal Gain

    At least – ’tis Mutual – Risk –
    Some – found it – Mutual Gain –
    Sweet Debt of Life – Each Night to owe –
    Insolvent – every Noon –

    Finally, the speaker seems to come to the notion that the exchange is not all one-sided:  there may be a chance of failure on both sides.  Yet, she asserts that there are those (saints perhaps?) who have declared that such a transaction garners gain on both sides.

    After all, each night when the human body lies down to rest, it owes a debt for its life.  As all debts must be repaid, that same body with a mind, heart, and soul continues to own that debt, which remains “insolvent” in the bright light of day.

    While night time reminds the human ego as it prays to its Creator that it has not created itself, still it must remain aware to Whom it owes its continued existence.  The speaker’s insolvency will remain because the limited human mind and heart can never repay the debt it owes its all-powerful Creator and Benefactor; only the soul can do that.

  • Killing the Messenger

    210b Image-Created by Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Killing the Messenger

    On sending in the clowns

    Evening sprays its dull stars across
    The mind of an endless blue distress.
    The tongue holds itself, lest it bleed.
    No words can cobble together
    A storm that whisks away the dark.

    Seeming, appearing, ditherers—
    The ache of sorrow in the hushed blush.
    We will enter the fray but hold our ire
    In the bosom of doubt and fury.
    Where are you?  now that you blundered
    So badly, allowing your feet to fumble
    Your brain to slip, your heart to scrap
    All pretense at affection.

    Bent arguments keep on leaking—devoid
    Of facts—on the whole of humanity.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “‘Why do I love’ You, Sir?”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 “‘Why do I love’ You, Sir?”

    The speaker of Emily Dickinson’s oddly punctuated poem “‘Why do I love’ You, Sir?” uses logic to demonstrate the reasoning that leads the created soul to experience love for its Creator.

    Introduction with Text of “‘Why do I love’ You, Sir?”

    This unusual Emily Dickinson poem begins with the following oddly punctuated first line: “Why do I love” You, Sir?

    Emily Dickinson’s Editors

    When analyzing the poems of Emily Dickinson’s, it is useful to remember that she did not work with an editor for the purpose of publishing.   Her poems were first edited after her death by Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd.

    But, unfortunately, their reworking often smoothed out Dickinson’s quirky use of language to the point of crushing the innovation and nuances that made her the unique poet that she was.  Therefore, Thomas H. Johnson restored her poems to the originals as found in the bundles (fascicles) of poems written in her own handwriting. 

    Thus the reader must be aware that Dickinson might have been persuaded to alter some of her quirks for publication, if she had been assured that her meaning would not be changed but instead made clearer by the changes.

    The odd punctuation of this poem, especially the first line, is an example of a Dickinsonian quirk which, no doubt, would have been altered by an editor after close consultation with the poet.  Indeed, it would be fascinating to hear Dickinson’s explanation for placing “Why do I love” in quotation marks, making it appear as a unit of thought that seems to address the second person “You.”

    No one can ever know for certain what significance that odd punctuation might have had for the poet, and it is likely that modern readers may simply dismiss the quotation marks as they begin the poem.

    The poem features four stanzas; the first two are innovative cinquains, the third is an innovative sestet, and the fourth is a Dickinsonian quatrain.  The poem dramatizes the theme of God’s love as mystery.  

    But it also makes it clear that the speaker is simplifying that emotion:  it is merely a natural sequence of events that the created soul will love its Creator.  The complication comes in giving thought to that sequence.  The speaker seems to desire to uncomplicate the issue once and for all.

    “Why do I love” You, Sir?

    “Why do I love” You, Sir?
    Because –
    The Wind does not require the Grass
    To answer – Wherefore when He pass
    She cannot keep Her place.

    Because He knows — and
    Do not You –
    And We know not –
    Enough for Us
    The Wisdom it be so –

    The Lightning – never asked an Eye
    Wherefore it shut — when He was by –
    Because He knows it cannot speak –
    And reasons not contained –
    – Of Talk –
    There be – preferred by Daintier Folk –

    The Sunrise – Sire – compelleth Me –
    Because He’s Sunrise – and I see –
    Therefore – Then –
    I love Thee –

    Commentary on “‘Why do I love’ You, Sir?”

    The speaker of Dickinson’s oddly punctuated poem uses logic to demonstrate the reasoning that leads the created soul to love for its Creator.

    First Stanza:   Unavoidable Love

    “Why do I love” You, Sir?
    Because –
    The Wind does not require the Grass
    To answer – Wherefore when He pass
    She cannot keep Her place.

    The speaker seems to be talking to the Divine Reality (God), calling Him “Sir,” and questioning Him as to why she loves Him. Then the speaker replies with her own answer, “Because — / The Wind does not require the Grass / To answer.”  However, in order to completely respond to this amazing mystery, the speaker finds it necessary to compare her feelings with phenomena of nature. 

    She thus decides to compare her love to the act of love the grass possesses.  The grass simply cannot prevent itself from undergoing its waving motion after the wind has blown through it. 

    The speaker’s love for her Heavenly Father Creator God is just simply natural.  There can be no questioning it.   Of course, she will continue to question and answer.  That’s just the way she rolls!

    Second Stanza:  The Wisdom of Love

    Because He knows — and
    Do not You –
    And We know not –
    Enough for Us
    The Wisdom it be so –

    In the second stanza, the speaker suggests that God as Father along with all she knows about anything, holds the “Wisdom” motivating the love in the soul of the created children for their Creator.   Nothing more is necessary, because everything is enfolded in that love and wisdom.

    Third Stanza:  “Why” Remains Irrelevant

    The Lightning – never asked an Eye
    Wherefore it shut — when He was by –
    Because He knows it cannot speak –
    And reasons not contained –
    – Of Talk –
    There be – preferred by Daintier Folk –

    In the third stanza, the speaker returns to describing phenomena of nature to explicate the “why”:  she reveals that that love eruption is akin to lightning striking the eye.  The eye will never stop to ask “why” it is acting as it does as it closes from the onslaught of  the light’s sudden brilliance.  Intimately coalescing occurrences do not motivate one to ask why.  They just are.  Or it is so obvious that no one has ever in history bothered to question it.   

    The speaker is nevertheless still aware that human minds crave reasons for things and events.   The human mind wants to discuss and declaim about the ineffable, even though the ineffable will never be “contained — / — Of Talk.”   The mind may be likened to “Daintier Folk,” who wish everything to be clarified in words, despite the fact that words often cannot perform that feat.

    By qualifying the mind and others who are not privy to such erudition as simply “daintier,” the speaker manages to suggest that there are those who are merely  incapable of seeing what is right before their eyes.  The employment of such a euphemism renders the speaker both kind and sympathetic and yet at the same time demonstrates her unique talent and deep mental perception.

    Fourth Stanza:  The Logic of Loving One’s Creator

    The Sunrise – Sire – compelleth Me –
    Because He’s Sunrise – and I see –
    Therefore – Then –
    I love Thee –

    The love for God, for this speaker, remains quite uncomplicated:  as the sun rises, her eyes perceive light.  As the Creator creates, the created loves.  To her mind, only the completely daft can question the logic of loving one’s Creator.

    But even without uttering any negativity regarding those who lack such natural understanding, the speaker has demonstrated her stance which remains replete with obvious implications.

  • The Blank Page of Posterity

    Original poem appearing in my collection titled “If My Words Could Rise,” available on Amazon as paperback or Kindle.
    Image: Created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem

    The Blank Page of Posterity

    Best & worst teen years

    It’s a sunny day by the water.
    I face myself in a skewed after-thought.
    What do I see, what do I hear?

    Green water, soft-murmuring splashes
    The lake offers for musing.
    What will I be in future?
    What will I do tomorrow?

    By the success of schoolgirl dreams
    I can only whisper possible scenes
    That come crashing like a nightmare
    Holding hostage my heart
    That tries to keep up with its blood
    Fusing each blank page for posterity.

    What will my children think of me?

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I measure every Grief I meet”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 measure every Grief I meet”

    In “I measure every Grief I meet,” the speaker examines the nature of suffering. The poem is long by Dickinson standards—ten quatrains.  Its theme relates squarely to the Dickinson voice that has become so beloved by her readers.

    Introduction and Text of “I measure every Grief I meet”

    By Dickinsonian reckoning, this poem is quite long.  Of course, her longest poem is “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,” the first one that appears in Thomas H. Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.  But that Valentine message remains an anomaly, which hardly represents the poet’s later accomplishments.

    The theme of “I measure every Grief I meet” squares directly with the Dickinson voice that has become so beloved by her fans.  Death, dying, and grief figure greatly in her canon, yet the sum of her output is nothing other than finding the good, true, and beautiful that human beings are capable of experiencing on this “terrestrial ball.”

    I measure every Grief I meet

    I measure every Grief I meet
    With narrow, probing, Eyes  –
    I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
    Or has an Easier size.

    I wonder if They bore it long  –
    Or did it just begin  –
    I could not tell the Date of Mine  –
    It feels so old a pain  – 

    I wonder if it hurts to live  –
    And if They have to try  –
    And whether  –  could They choose between  –
    It would not be  –  to die  – 

    I note that Some  –  gone patient long  –
    At length, renew their smile  –
    An imitation of a Light
    That has so little Oil  – 

    I wonder if when Years have piled  –
    Some Thousands  –  on the Harm  –
    That hurt them early  –  such a lapse
    Could give them any Balm  – 

    Or would they go on aching still
    Through Centuries of Nerve  –
    Enlightened to a larger Pain  –
    In Contrast with the Love  – 

    The Grieved  –  are many  –  I am told  –
    There is the various Cause  –
    Death  –  is but one  –  and comes but once  –
    And only nails the eyes  – 

    There’s Grief of Want  –  and Grief of Cold  –
    A sort they call “Despair”  –
    There’s Banishment from native Eyes  –
    In sight of Native Air  – 

    And though I may not guess the kind  –
    Correctly  –  yet to me
    A piercing Comfort it affords
    In passing Calvary  – 

    To note the fashions  –  of the Cross  –
    And how they’re mostly worn  –
    Still fascinated to presume
    That Some  –  are like My Own  – 

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBYyOo7kTtg&t=

    Commentary on “I measure every Grief I meet”

    In “I measure every Grief I meet,” the speaker examines the nature of human suffering. The poem is long by Dickinson standards, filling out a whopping ten quatrains.

    First Quatrain:  Special Observant Attention 

    I measure every Grief I meet
    With narrow, probing, Eyes  –
    I wonder if It weighs like Mine  –
    Or has an Easier size.

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “I measure every Grief I meet” from Thomas H. Johnson’s Complete Poem of Emily Dickinson asserts that she scrutinizes every person who has sorrow with especially observant attention. 

    In this poem, “every Grief” provides a metonymic reference to a person who is grieving, of whose sorrow the speaker wishes to determine the breadth and depth. She knows the “size” of her own suffering, and thus she wonders if her fellows take their suffering as seriously as she does. 

    Second Quatrain:  Old Pain 

    I wonder if They bore it long  –
    Or did it just begin  –
    I could not tell the Date of Mine  –
    It feels so old a pain  – 

    The speaker then avers that she has speculated about how much time has passed since the griever’s suffering commenced. She notices that her own suffering has been with her so long that it seems to be as old as pain itself. 

    Third Quatrain:  The Depth of Suffering 

    I wonder if it hurts to live  –
    And if They have to try  –
    And whether  –  could They choose between  –
    It would not be  –  to die  – 

    The speaker then ponders the possibility that the depth of hurt might cause the suffering one to wish for death; she wonders if the sufferers think about or contemplate making the choice between continuing to live in pain and committing suicide. 

    Fourth Quatrain:  The Onset of Complacency

    I note that Some  –  gone patient long  –
    At length, renew their smile  –
    An imitation of a Light
    That has so little Oil  – 

    The speaker reports that from her observations she has detected that some of those people in pain have grown so accustomed to their lot that they “renew their smile,” but their “imitation” smile is as faint as a lamp with “so little Oil.” 

    Fifth Quatrain:  Any Balm in Time? 

    I wonder if when Years have piled  –
    Some Thousands  –  on the Harm  –
    That hurt them early  –  such a lapse
    Could give them any Balm  – 

    The speaker then wonders if after the passage of “[s]ome Thousands” of years, they might finally have recovered from their original hurt; could such a long period of time be “a lapse” that “[c]ould give them any Balm”? 

    Sixth Quatrain: Pain Larger than Love 

    Or would they go on aching still
    Through Centuries of Nerve  –
    Enlightened to a larger Pain  –
    In Contrast with the Love  – 

    The speaker suspects that the suffering might continue, especially if the “pain” grew “larger” than “the Love.” 

    Seventh Quatrain: Waxing Philosophical 

    The Grieved  –  are many  –  I am told  –
    There is the various Cause  –
    Death  –  is but one  –  and comes but once  –
    And only nails the eyes  – 

    The speaker then waxes philosophical in stating that many individuals have suffered and continue to suffer.  Clearly, this speaker knows this fact largely from what she had heard and read.  While the poet was something of a mystic, she does not create omniscient speakers

    The speaker has likely been advised that many reasons exist for so much suffering in the world.  Death is one cause only.  While “death” is thought to happen to each individual only once, this speaker realizes that death “only nails the eyes.”

    Death has no way of removing suffering from the soul.  The mind of the unself-realized person will retain that taint until the sufferer has become God-united.  The real “self” or soul transcends death’s reach, as this speaker understands.

    Eighth Quatrain:  The Causes  

    There’s Grief of Want  –  and Grief of Cold  –
    A sort they call “Despair”  –
    There’s Banishment from native Eyes  –
    In sight of Native Air  – 

    The speaker continues speculating about other causes of pain: “Grief of Want” and “grief of Cold” are two examples; then there are “Despair” and the “Banishment from native Eyes” despite remaining “In Sight of Native Air.” All of these instruments of pain are ancient and ever-present; they can never be eliminated. 

    Ninth Quatrain:  Consolation in Christ

    And though I may not guess the kind  –
    Correctly  –  yet to me
    A piercing Comfort it affords
    In passing Calvary  – 

    The speaker finally realizes that although she cannot ascertain the origin of the pain, she finds a deep measure of consolation from the experience and struggles of the blessed Lord Jesus. 

    Tenth Quatrain:   A Spiritual Duty

    To note the fashions  –  of the Cross  –
    And how they’re mostly worn  –
    Still fascinated to presume
    That Some  –  are like My Own  – 

    As the speaker observes the many styles of crosses people over the centuries have worn and borne, she realizes that suffering is universal and shared.  While such knowledge does not alleviate the suffering, it does demonstrate that there is a divine purpose, and that fact makes the act of bearing grief a spiritual duty, which ultimately leads to divine Bliss.

  • Original Poem “Frosty Fantasy” with Prose Commentary

    Frosty Fantasy

    The hill gives my legs an excuse to bend
    And my arms a chance to steady their trembling
    But my back holds firm as I negotiate each step.
    What were they thinking, my parents, who
    Built their home so far from town?
    I never wished for more than heaven.

    You, however, who grew up far from the midland,
    Kept your heart in a duffle bag, stuffed with straw.
    Sure, I’m only guessing, but you gave me the material:
    Sick laughter, sour smells clinging to your clothes,
    Boasting pride breaking your potential
    Which was poetry itself, sometimes sublime.

    But you allowed your fangs of frosty fantasy
    To make a bloody truant of your future.

    Commentarian Hat Image

    A Prose Commentary on My Original Poem “Frosty Fantasy”

    In my poem “Frosty Fantasy,” I have created a speaker who reflects upon the divergent paths of two lives: one rooted in place, discipline, and spiritual aspiration, the other undermined by self-deception and squandered promise.

    The poem unfolds as a personal address, but beneath its conversational surface lies a musing on character, destiny, and the consequences of embracing illusion over authentic growth.

    The title itself is deliberately ironic. Fantasy ordinarily suggests imagination, creativity, and possibility. Yet the fantasy explored here is “frosty”—cold, sterile, and ultimately destructive. Rather than nurturing the future, it freezes it. 

    The poem’s emotional movement progresses from the speaker’s own grounded perspective toward an examination of another individual whose considerable gifts have been compromised by pride and self-delusion.

    Underlying the poem is the conviction that talent alone cannot sustain a meaningful life. Potential must be guided by self-knowledge, humility, and higher aspiration. Without such guidance, even genuine brilliance may become an instrument of self-sabotage.

    First Stanza:  The Discipline of Ascent

    The hill gives my legs an excuse to bend
    And my arms a chance to steady their trembling
    But my back holds firm as I negotiate each step.
    What were they thinking, my parents, who
    Built their home so far from town?
    I never wished for more than heaven.

    In the opening stanza, my speaker begins with a physical ascent up a hill. The hill is not merely geographical; it serves as a metaphor for the challenges inherent in human life. Each part of the body participates in the effort. The legs bend, the arms steady themselves, and the back remains firm. This catalog of bodily responses emphasizes perseverance and balance.

    The speaker then turns briefly toward the parents who built their home “so far from town.” The question, “What were they thinking?” introduces a touch of humor and mild complaint, but the complaint quickly dissolves into a larger perspective. The concluding line, “I never wished for more than heaven,” transforms what might have remained an ordinary recollection into a spiritual declaration.

    The speaker suggests that physical distance from worldly activity may have fostered a deeper orientation toward transcendent values. The ascent of the hill thus becomes inseparable from the ascent of consciousness.

    Second Stanza:  A Portrait of Displacement

    You, however, who grew up far from the midland,
    Kept your heart in a duffle bag, stuffed with straw.
    Sure, I’m only guessing, but you gave me the material.
    Sick laughter, sour smells clinging to your clothes,
    Boasting pride breaking your potential
    Which was poetry itself, sometimes sublime.

    The second stanza shifts attention toward the person being addressed. Unlike the speaker, this individual is portrayed as fundamentally unsettled. The image of keeping one’s heart “in a duffle bag, stuffed with straw” suggests emotional impermanence and spiritual emptiness.

    A duffle bag is designed for movement and transience; it has no permanence or rootedness. The straw further implies something artificial, a substitute for genuine substance. The heart has become portable but hollow.

    The speaker acknowledges uncertainty with the phrase “Sure, I’m only guessing,” yet immediately asserts that the evidence for such speculation has been provided by the subject himself. This rhetorical maneuver allows the speaker to maintain both humility and authority.

    The subsequent images become increasingly severe. “Sick laughter” and “sour smells” create an atmosphere of moral and psychological decay. These sensory details suggest that inner disorder eventually manifests outwardly. The speaker is less concerned with literal odors or sounds than with the lingering effects of a troubled character.

    The latter portion of the second stanza introduces the poem’s central sorrow. The addressed individual possesses remarkable potential. The speaker observes that his potential “was poetry itself, sometimes sublime.”

    This line is intentionally generous. The poem does not depict an ordinary failure but the squandering of exceptional gifts. The word “sublime” elevates the subject’s capacities beyond mere competence into the realm of genuine artistic and spiritual possibility.

    Yet this praise is immediately juxtaposed against “Boasting pride.” The contrast is crucial. The obstacle is not lack of talent but an inflated sense of self. Pride becomes the force that fractures the connection between potential and fulfillment.  The speaker therefore presents a familiar but painful truth: greatness is often destroyed not by external enemies but by internal weaknesses.

    Third Stanza:  The Tyranny and Tragedy of Illusion

    But you allowed your fangs of frosty fantasy
    To make a bloody truant of your future.

    The final stanza—which is only an unrimed couplet—condenses the poem’s judgment into a single powerful image. The “fangs of frosty fantasy” transform fantasy from a harmless indulgence into a predatory force. Fangs suggest aggression, danger, and injury. 

    The fantasy has become something that bites and wounds. The adjective “frosty” reinforces the image of emotional coldness and spiritual paralysis. Rather than inspiring growth, these fantasies freeze the individual within a false vision of himself.

    The phrase “make a bloody truant of your future” is deliberately startling. A truant abandons responsibility and neglects obligation. Here the future itself becomes the truant, absent because the subject’s choices have driven it away.

    The image suggests that the future was once available but has been injured and expelled through self-defeating behavior. What might have become a life of accomplishment and creative fulfillment has instead been sacrificed to illusion.  The poem ends without reconciliation because the speaker wishes to leave the consequences visible and unresolved. The loss itself becomes the final lesson.

    An Afterthought

    In “Frosty Fantasy,” the speaker examines the painful distance between promise and fulfillment. The poem contrasts two modes of living: one grounded in perseverance, aspiration, and rootedness, the other consumed by pride, instability, and self-deception.

    The speaker’s judgment is severe but not entirely condemnatory. Embedded within the criticism is an acknowledgment that the addressed individual possessed genuine gifts, perhaps even extraordinary ones. This recognition makes the loss more poignant, not less. In fact, that loss may be designated a tragedy in the original usage of the term.

    Ultimately, the poem suggests that imagination detached from truth becomes fantasy, and fantasy detached from discipline becomes destructive. The speaker portrays a life in which illusion gradually eclipses possibility, leaving behind not the fulfillment of potential but the lingering shadow of what might have been.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Two Butterflies went out at Noon”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 “Two Butterflies went out at Noon”

    Emily Dickinson possessed the gift of mystic vision, and that vision is displayed brilliantly in this enchanting poem that dramatizes two butterflies embarking on a mystical flight. The poem offers a glimpse into Dickinson’s ability to blend nature with transcendental themes.

    Introduction and Text of “Two Butterflies went out at Noon”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “Two Butterflies went out at Noon” (#533 in Thomas H. Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson), the speaker is dramatizing an imaginary flight of two butterflies that ease out on a amazing journey.

    Emily Dickinson creates a speaker, whose mystical vision is revealed in many of her poems, and this one serves as one of the finest examples of that vision.  Her insightful gift accompanies her gift for creating little dramas that feature snippets of that insight in poetic form.

    Two Butterflies went out at Noon

    Two Butterflies went out at Noon –
    And waltzed above a Farm –
    Then stepped straight through the Firmament
    And rested on a Beam –

    And then – together bore away
    Upon a shining Sea –
    Though never yet, in any Port –
    Their coming mentioned–be –

    If spoken by the distant Bird –
    If met in Ether Sea
    By Frigate, or by Merchantman –
    No notice – was – to me –

    Commentary on “Two Butterflies went out at Noon”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “Two Butterflies went out at Noon,” the speaker dramatizes an imaginary flight of two butterflies embarking on an extraordinary journey.   This poem exemplifies Dickinson’s mystical vision and her ability to craft poetic dramas that explore profound human themes through metaphorical imagery. It is a masterful example of her unique poetic voice.

    First Stanza: Mysterious Arrival

    Two Butterflies went out at Noon –
    And waltzed above a Farm –
    Then stepped straight through the Firmament
    And rested on a Beam –

    The speaker begins with the simple yet intriguing statement, “Two Butterflies went out at Noon.” The butterflies’ sudden appearance is mysterious; they seemingly emerge from nowhere, unbound by any specific origin. 

    Their only marker is time—”Noon”—which suggests a moment of illumination or clarity. This temporal detail invites readers to ponder their symbolic significance as creatures of light and transformation.

    The butterflies “waltzed above a Farm,” an image that evokes grace and harmony. Their movement suggests a carefree dance, embodying the beauty of nature’s fleeting moments. 

    The farm below serves as a grounding contrast to their ethereal presence, emphasizing their transcendence. Yet, their origin remains unknown, adding an air of mystery to their appearance and suggesting they are more than merely the physical beings well-known as butterflies.

    The speaker does not clarify her own location during this observation, leaving readers to wonder whether she is physically present or perceiving them through an inner, mystical,  transcendental vision. 

    After their graceful waltz, the butterflies “stepped straight through the Firmament,” ascending beyond the earthly realm into the heavens. This transition marks their departure from tangible reality into a cosmic or spiritual dimension.

    Once beyond the firmament, the butterflies “rested on a Beam.” The beam could symbolize a ray of sunlight or divine energy, reinforcing their connection to higher realms. 

    This imagery suggests that the speaker’s perception extends beyond ordinary sight; she sees with an inner eye attuned to spiritual truths. The butterflies become metaphors for thoughts or souls—ephemeral entities that transcend physical boundaries.

    Dickinson’s speaker’s metaphorical comparison likens these butterflies to thoughts—mysterious, fleeting, and boundless. Just as thoughts arise spontaneously and traverse unseen realms, so do these butterflies appear suddenly and vanish into intangible spaces with grace and speed. 

    The journey of these special butterflies mirrors the movement of ideas or spiritual insights that come unbidden and often disappear just as quickly.  The nature of flight coincides with the nature of speed and lightness.

    Second Stanza: Ephemeral Thoughts

    And then – together bore away
    Upon a shining Sea –
    Though never yet, in any Port –
    Their coming mentioned–be –

    In the second stanza, the butterflies continue their journey “Upon a shining Sea.” This sea symbolizes eternity or an infinite expanse, reflecting Dickinson’s  life-long fascination with transcendence and the soul’s voyage beyond earthly confines. 

    The imagery evokes a sense of boundlessness, as the butterflies glide effortlessly over this luminous ocean without needing any vessel to carry them.  Just as the soul, and even the mind, may seem to glide effortlessly from thought to feeling and back again.

    The speaker notes that these remarkable butterfly-thoughts never stop at “any Port.” Their journey is uninterrupted by mundane destinations; they pass through existence without anchoring themselves in any fixed location. This detail emphasizes their ephemeral nature—they are not bound by material concerns but remain free to traverse limitless realms.

    The absence of any mention of their arrival further underscores their elusiveness. The speaker suggests that if their presence had been detected in any port along their journey, it surely would have been noted or remarked upon by someone. Yet no such acknowledgment exists, heightening the sense of mystery surrounding their destination and purpose.

    This seamless movement evokes wonder about where these itinerant butterflies will go next. Their path seems guided by an unseen force, reflecting Dickinson’s belief in the unseen powers that govern existence. 

    The butterflies’ journey becomes a metaphor for fleeting thoughts or spiritual revelations—beautiful yet transient experiences that defy capture or explanation.  Even understanding by mental power exists beyond their realm.

    Through this stanza, Dickinson’s speaker invites readers to reflect on the nature of impermanence and the ineffable qualities of spiritual experiences. The shining sea represents both possibility and mystery, a realm where boundaries dissolve and transformation occurs.

    Third Stanza: Evading the Ultimate

    If spoken by the distant Bird –
    If met in Ether Sea
    By Frigate, or by Merchantman –
    No notice – was – to me –

    In the final stanza, the speaker avoids answering where the butterflies ultimately settle, instead emphasizing their elusive nature. She speculates about who might have observed them since their departure but concludes that no one has reported seeing them again. This lack of information reinforces their otherworldly quality—they exist beyond human comprehension or observation.

    The speaker imagines possible witnesses who might have encountered these roaming butterflies: perhaps a “distant Bird” soaring high above or voyagers like frigates and merchantmen traversing vast seas.

    These figures symbolize different perspectives—natural creatures attuned to the skies and human explorers navigating uncharted waters, like Christopher Columbus. Yet even these potential observers provide no reports of the butterflies’ whereabouts.

    This absence of acknowledgment underscores their ethereal quality—they are invisible to ordinary perception and evade even those who might be best positioned to notice them. The butterflies symbolize fleeting thoughts or spiritual entities that traverse unseen dimensions, leaving no trace behind.

    The speaker herself admits that she has no concrete knowledge of their final destination. Even as she entertains these butterfly-thoughts within her mind, she acknowledges their elusive nature—they come and go without leaving tangible evidence of their presence. Only through poetic imagination can she capture and display them for others to experience.

    The speaker’s portrayal of these creatures reflects her longing for transcendence and her fascination with life’s mysteries. The poem becomes a devotional musing on impermanence, beauty, and the soul’s journey beyond the material level of existence.

    A Poetic Meditation on Transcendence

    In “Two Butterflies went out at Noon,” Emily Dickinson creates a speaker, who weaves an intricate tapestry of imagery and symbolism to explore themes of impermanence, transcendence, and spiritual insight. 

    The butterflies serve as metaphors for fleeting thoughts or souls—ephemeral entities that arise mysteriously, traverse unseen realms, and vanish without explanation—the nearly perfect description of the flight of thoughts and soul experience.

    Through her vivid descriptions and enigmatic narrative, Dickinson’s speaker invites readers to reflect on life’s mysteries and embrace the beauty of impermanence. The poem exemplifies her ability to transform simple observations into profound musings on existence, showcasing her unique poetic vision.

    Dickinson’s mystical perspective shines brightly in this work, offering readers not only a glimpse into her imaginative world but also an opportunity to contemplate their own journeys through life’s vast and mysterious landscapes.

    A musical rendition  

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I know a place where Summer strives”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    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 know a place where Summer strives”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “I know a place where Summer strives,” the speaker personifies summer as a woman who struggles to overcome the coldness of late spring.

    Introduction with Text of  “I know a place where Summer strives”

    The poet especially loved summer, and in this fascinating poem, she allows her speaker to convert summer into a gardener who experiences the obstacles that sometimes accompany the difficult birth of the summer season.  

    Sometimes it seems that it takes great effort or striving to overcome the coldness of late spring in New England, where residents may suffer snow and frost before the warmth of summer blossoms into the promised reality.

    The poem offers a unique look at the arrival of the summer season. The speaker’s personification of summer as a woman tending her garden creates a magnificent drama that occurs every late spring.

    Emily Dickinson’s poem, “I know a place where Summer strives,” consists of three stanzas. Each stanza has the rime scheme ABCB.  The poems is #337 in Thomas H. Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.

    I know a place where Summer strives

    I know a place where Summer strives
    With such a practised Frost –
    She – each year – leads her Daisies back –
    Recording briefly – “Lost” –

    But when the South Wind stirs the Pools
    And struggles in the lanes –
    Her Heart misgives Her, for Her Vow –
    And she pours soft Refrains

    Into the lap of Adamant –
    And spices – and the Dew –
    That stiffens quietly to Quartz –
    Upon her Amber Shoe –

    Commentary on “I know a place where Summer strives”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “I know a place where Summer strives,” the speaker personifies summer as a woman who struggles to overcome the coldness of late spring.

    First Stanza:  Summer Endeavoring to Become

    I know a place where Summer strives
    With such a practised Frost –
    She – each year – leads her Daisies back –
    Recording briefly – “Lost” –

    In the first stanza, the speaker makes the puzzling claim that she knows “a place where Summer strives.” This remark is startling; one does not think of seasons as having the ability or the need to “strive.”   

    Only people are capable of striving. But in this poem, the speaker is, in fact, dramatizing the onset of summer by personifying Summer as a woman; Summer becomes a gardener who is endeavoring to accomplish the arrival of the summer growing season. 

    Unlike those who find the arrival of each season an automatic transition that is hardly noticeable, this speaker dramatically reveals that sometimes the Summer growing season is won by fits and starts. The speaker says that Summer “strives / With such a practised Frost.”   

    Late spring can remain cold in New England, where Dickinson lived all of her life. So it would seem that summer sometimes had a difficult birth, contending with frost and even snow.  But Summer makes a great effort, and her endeavors result in bringing back the flowers, which seemed lost during the winter. 

    Second Stanza:   A Helping Hand

    But when the South Wind stirs the Pools
    And struggles in the lanes –
    Her Heart misgives Her, for Her Vow –
    And she pours soft Refrains

    The speaker then asserts that for all the difficult attempts at arriving, a situation arises that offers a helping hand to Summer in bringing the season to full bloom. The “South Wind stirs the Pools,” and a summer storm blows up. 

    But Summer then still has some doubt about her success, and she has a promise to keep in delivering summer qualities of warmth and fertility so that seeds in the ground may grow into viable plants for food for people and animals.   But then the rains begin, and Summer does absolutely arrive. All her striving has paid off.

    Third Stanza:  A Fierce Attempt

    Into the lap of Adamant –
    And spices – and the Dew –
    That stiffens quietly to Quartz –
    Upon her Amber Shoe –

    Summer “pours soft Refrains // Into the lap of Adamant”; she strives fiercely to arrive. She brings rain to the plants that will flourish during the growing season, which she had promised.  

    The rains will convert the landscape to a glowing green grassy hue that will illuminate the summer’s growing season.   The Summer as a woman will tend her garden, and she will get mud on her shoes.  That mud will become hardened like “Quartz.”  Thus “Sumner” will sport shoes of “Amber.”

    But happily, all her arduous striving will have succeeded: the flowers will gloriously come back.  The frost will have finally departed, and the summer rains will be moistening the thirsty mouths of the plants.  

    Marvelous spices will result from Summer’s loving care of sun and rain.  And even the gardener’s shoes will wear a beautiful “amber” because she has trampled in the mud caring for all the varieties of plants that help fill her larder for winter.

    Dickinson’s “I know a place where Summer strives” rendered in song  

  • As I Sit Alone, Musing

    As I Sit Alone, Musing

    Singing spreads through the wires
    Of my brain in young years
    As I grew taller but remained short.
    In the music, I felt secure
    That one day I would encounter
    Some perfect way of being
    And knowing and feeling.

    Where is the singing from the heart?
    Where the soul holds sway.
    Where is soul speaking with silent tongue?
    Where the mind changes but grows still
    With each touch of the Divine.
    And the music grows stronger
    As I sit alone, musing. 

    The shadow of the song
    Graces the night with the perfume
    Of love and wisdom.

    Each day with music
    Renders passion a foe
    Of tranquility
    Allowing flesh to dominate
    The flow of blood in wistful veins.
    The music heals
    As new wounds open.

    Singing in the silence of the soul
    Brings a new day to peace
    Calming the blood, soothing restlessness.

  • The Flowers Are Bright Today

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    The Flowers Are Bright Today

    The flowers are bright today.
    They take on an ethereal glow.
    They bloom in the flames of my tongue—
    And then remain silent.

    They give off joy from a sacred place.
    Their fragrance shies away from contempt.
    As dumb as trees, they speak a holy tongue.
    Noise has no sway with their beauty.

    They employ no mask to obfuscate dawn.
    They seek no retribution in the storm.
    They bend as needed—
    Not to a dictator but to their Liberator.

    In the fires of eternity, they sing eternally.
    They rock their love in the equation
    Where humankind wishes to exist.