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Category: Emily Dickinson

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Could live – did live”

    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 “Could live – did live”

    Emily Dickinson’s speaker in “Could live – did live” is speculating about the possible inner motivation that urged on the heart of an individual acquaintance who has now died.  He did live, she insists, but what drove him?—This man, who seems to have maintained such an even-minded temperament. 

    Introduction and Text of “Could live – did live”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “Could live – did live,” the speaker is speculating about the inner life of an individual who has died.  Because she refers to the deceased as “he” and “his” in the lines, “Through faith in one he met not, / To introduce his soul,” it is safe to assume that the individual is a man or boy—more likely a man because of the nature of the information offered by the speaker.  

    The dead man has experienced enough of life that the speaker, who has observed at least periodically the man living his life, has acquired and retained enough information to make certain assumptions about how he thought and felt and what his inclinations might have been.

    As Dickinson is wont to do, in this poem, the poet is playing with English grammar.  She is employing the conditional mood of verbs.  In the opening two lines, she juxtaposes the conditional mood use with the indicative mood emphatic; thus, she moves from “could live” to  “did live.”  

    That the poet added her own emphasis to the emphatic “did” further highlights her play on the language.  In modern print, the emphasis is shown by italicizing—”did“—while in her handwriting, Dickinson shows that emphasis by underlining–”did.”

    Could live – did live

    Could live – did live –
    Could die – did die –
    Could smile upon the whole
    Through faith in one he met not,
    To introduce his soul.

    Could go from scene familiar
    To an untraversed spot –
    Could contemplate the journey
    With unpuzzled heart –

    Such trust had one among us,
    Among us not today –
    We who saw the launching
    Never sailed the Bay!

    Commentary on “Could live – did live”

    The speaker in this Dickinson gem is offering a somewhat clipped observation about the possible inner life of an individual male acquaintance who has died.  She has observed at least enough of the individual’s comings and going that she remains capable of forming an opinion about him.  

    Interestingly, what the speaker claims about the possible inner life of another more than likely remains even more on target about her own station in life.

    First Stanza:  Conditional Speculation

    Could live – did live –
    Could die – did die –
    Could smile upon the whole
    Through faith in one he met not,
    To introduce his soul.

    The speaker begins by contrasting the difference between the conditional and the indicative moods.  She states elliptically that someone had been able to live —”could”—but then adds immediately that he did, in fact, live.  

    The first proposition is stated with the conditional mood auxiliary verb “could,” and the second half of her statement features the emphatic form “did” of the indicative mood “live.”

    In the second line, she repeats the conditional vs indicative moods again with the opposite of “live.”  Thus she is reporting that someone who could have lived, did, in fact, live, and then this same individual could have died—because he lived, of course—and he, in fact, “did die.”

    By playing with the grammar of the language, the speaker indicates that her own solemn mood may be moving her to speculate and to postpone her grieving for this individual.  But then she launches another conditional mood “could smile,” as she reports the level of the deceased’s faith.  

    The deceased was able to smile upon the whole bewildering commotion of life and death likely remaining quite neutral about any deep meaning those puzzling acts might hold; he, at least, possessed some level of faith to be able to hold such a smile, and his soul thereby has remained an entity without dedication to a higher consciousness.  The speaker, however, is merely reporting, not judging.

    Second Stanza:  Remaining Conditional

    Could go from scene familiar
    To an untraversed spot –
    Could contemplate the journey
    With unpuzzled heart –

    Returning again to the conditional mood, the speaker continues to report on the deceased’s ability to face the various vicissitudes of life.  His temperamental state seems to have remained somewhat even-minded whether he was moving in “familiar” territory or venturing out to parts unknown.

    The speaker asserts that the deceased “could go” and was also able to “contemplate” his travels without his “heart” becoming puzzled, or likely even frazzled.  The speaker is offering only her interpretation of how the deceased felt; thus the continued employment of the conditional mood remains operative and most appropriate.  

    While her uncertainly is not paramount, she, nevertheless, does not wish to sound as though she can make any final pronouncement about how the deceased went about his life and his days upon planet Earth.  

    She knows that too deep a speculation would ultimately amount to judging.  She does imply that she likely would not retain such an even-minded ability throughout her puzzling sojourn through life and death.

    Third Stanza:  Trust and Faith in Life’s Inner Turmoil

    Such trust had one among us,
    Among us not today –
    We who saw the launching
    Never sailed the Bay!

    The speaker finalizes her speculative evaluation of the deceased’s inner mental/heartfelt state by asserting that his trust, which did not rise to level of faith, was as she has thus far described.  He was “among us,” and today he is no longer “among us.”

    The speaker then concludes by remarking that although “we,” the living, have been able to observe the manner in which the deceased passed his days, we cannot know for certain how his experience actually shaped and formed his deep heart’s core and ultimate mental state.

    While we may have observed, an observation is not the actual experience.  The deceased is the only one who has “sailed the Bay”; his friends, family, and acquaintances merely caught certain glimpses of his “launching.”  They remain in state of “should, would, could” as far as the deceased’s inner life is concerned.  

    The speaker offers an observation, however, that may be quite accurate, but in the long run, the accuracy is in her own self-revelation, not necessarily in that of the target of her report.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!”

    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 “A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!” dramatizes the intensity with which an individual may view the simple act of the opening of a day.  She concludes by revealing the superior power of the soul in overcoming all adversity.

    Introduction and Text of “A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!”

    The speaker of Emily Dickinson’s “A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!” opens with an effusion, calling for assistance—another day is here and dire need, calamity, and trials and tribulations are on the horizon.   This speaker has opened her heart and mind to the material level of reality and is reacting to the cant and cacophony that that level brings the sensitive individual.

    After offering a broad scope for consideration of national and worldly events, the speaker concludes with the same heartfelt level of awareness that leads the speaker and her environment of sensitivities back to her garden of soul reality.  The soul triumphs despite upsetting—even disastrous—worldly or national events.  The soul remains able to “stand unshaken amid the crash of breaking worlds.”  

    A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

    A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
    Your prayers, oh Passer by!
    From such a common ball as this
    Might date a Victory!
    From marshallings as simple
    The flags of nations swang.
    Steady — my soul: What issues
    Upon thine arrow hang!

    Commentary on “A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!”

    The speaker offers a contrasting movement from effusion at possible impending calamity to revelation of steadfast, complete endurance in the face of all chaos and consternation.

    First Movement:  A Cry of Consternation

    A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
    Your prayers, oh Passer by!

    The speaker stations herself in an etherial location from which she can contemplate and consider the vicissitudes of life. Upon awakening to the breaking of “Another Day!,” she offers a prayerful command to one who “[p]ass[es] by” her vision, imploring that individual for “Prayers.”   

    At this point, the speaker has offered only a nebulous environment from which she can view activities, contemplate events, and make judgments about them. Little can be fathomed from such an effusive outcry, but she has attracted attention for her discourse.

    The speaker’s opening cry that another day has opened, and then her subsequent cry for “Help! Help!” alerts those around her that all is not well, or at least, not likely to remain so for long. 

    Thus something must be out of order, or some circumstance which eludes her control prompts her to command assistance—all for the simple act of another day arriving.  At first blush, such drama may seem melodramatic, but as the speaker continues, all events, thoughts, and feelings take their appropriate place upon the horizon.

    Second Movement:  The Potential for Winning

    From such a common ball as this
    Might date a Victory!

    The speaker continues to remain somewhat vague, yet at the same time she refers to the planet upon which she takes her breaths and pulses her blood.  Calling Earth a “common ball,” she adds that despite her opening call for help, such a place may offer the scope and time allotment for great winning.

    The “Victory” upon which the speaker may stand remains at this point a forethought, perhaps even an illusion.  She has not yet revealed any specific reason for her opening effusive cry or for implying that some victorious event may occur. 

    As she continues to riddle and minimize, she yet opens her toolkit of ideas, images, and emotions to a vast array of pairs of opposites, such as the trope of winning and losing, and then to opening and closing, weakness and strength, close and far, life and death.

    Third Movement:  A Pride of Being

    From marshallings as simple
    The flags of nations swang.

    The speaker then alludes to national pride—the allowing to swing the banners of nations; thus she indicates that the country has accrued some level of success in some undertaking.  Such prideful acts could include war, treaties with potential enemies, or creating a national harmony that permits citizens to crave out better, more prosperous lives.

    The speaker still has not delineated any specifics, for her purpose remains to make a general statement, a simple remark in passing regarding the nature of reality and how actions and events accrue to yield any given result.  She has, thus far, opened the day with a concerning cry but then yielded to the possibility of victory—which at the same time yields the possibility of utter failure.

    Now by referring to “flags,” the speaker has opened her discourse to the likelihood that she wishes to make a generalized statement about events that in no way remain in the private or personal sphere of reality.  

    The speaker now has only one way to continue this observation—she must bring events into her own sphere, else she will have to abandon any hope making a sensible observation.

    Fourth Movement:  The Soul’s Victory

    Steady — my soul: What issues
    Upon thine arrow hang!

    The speaker then abruptly addresses her own soul, admonishing it to be “Steady.”  She has touched, even if lightly, on activities, events, and possibilities at worldly and national levels.  She has implied that these activities, events, and possibilities may have a detrimental effect on her as an individual.  

    Such detriment would rattle the hearts and minds of any individual, perhaps even to soul level.  Thus the speaker now closes her investigation on those outside possibilities, concentrates on the purely personal, and discovers that she must calm her heart and mind in order for her soul to become once again “Steady.”

    The speaker’s final effusion is the simple remark that profundity clings to the sharp point of soul clarity.  Metaphorically likening the soul to an “arrow” allows her to demonstrate that the soul is the only weapon that can discharge and conquer the “issues” that fluster, confuses, and cause pain and anguish in the hearts and minds of individuals.

    Obsolete Usage: “Swang”

    The term “swang” is the obsolete irregular simple past tense form of “swing,” which apparently was still in use in the Dickinsonian century; current usage requires “swung,” the same form as the past participle “swung.”  Similar verb forms such as “sting,” “sling,” and “fling” have all lost their simple past tense form of “stang,” “slang,” and “flang.”  

    The verb “ring” however retains its irregular simple past tense form of “rang”: “ring, rang, rung” remain the three usages that continue in the current American parlance. 

    The terms, “ding,” which has a similar meaning to “ring,” and “bring” both have different simple past and participle forms:  “ding” follows the regular verb formation by merely adding the suffix “-ed” to the present tense form, while “bring” has the irregular form of “brought” in both simple past and past participle forms.

    A close study of the etymology of these terms would reveal the trajectory of those changes, and they would likely be perfectly sensible, even though a mere glance seems that this change in language usage has no rime or reason.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I robbed the Woods”

    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 robbed the Woods”

    In “I robbed the Woods,” Emily Dickinson creates a speaker who confesses to a crime: she has robbed the “trusting” woods and “unsuspecting” trees, and she later wonders what those natural beings will say about her brazen act.

    Introduction and Text of “I robbed the Woods”

    Upon being faced with such a bizarre claim—”I robbed the Woods”—the reader has his/her curiosity immediately fetched to the forefront.  How on earth can an individual rob a woods?—one has to wonder.  

    But then this is Emily Dickinson, whose mastery at confiding ideas in words leaves little doubt that that claims is exactly what happened—whether it ends up literal or figurative, although, one will likely bet on the figurative.

    Emily Dickinson was a master at riddle-making, and in her poem, “I robbed the Woods,” her speaker’s metaphorical comparison of keen observation and mental note-taking to committing a robbery reveals how complex and insightful was her poet mind.

    Her metaphor functions almost exactly as a riddle functions:  she lays out details and as they stack up, she allows her listening audience/readers to guess what her exact vehicle remains and does.

    While there is no one item to which the speaker is referring in “I robbed the Woods”—as in “It sifts from Leaden Sieves” and “I like to see it lap the Miles“—her metaphorical comparison itself becomes the target of the riddle-like device. 

    I robbed the Woods

    I robbed the Woods –
    The trusting Woods.
    The unsuspecting Trees
    Brought out their Burs and mosses
    My fantasy to please.
    I scanned their trinkets curious – 

    I grasped – I bore away –
    What will the solemn Hemlock –
    What will the Oak tree say?

    Commentary on “I robbed the Woods”

    Emily Dickinson’s poem “I Robbed the Woods” reads almost like a riddle. The speaker likens the simple act of observing nature to committing a daring theft, creating a vivid and fascinating metaphor. The poem plays with ideas of observation, memory, and awareness—all essential tools for transforming everyday experiences into poetry.

    At first glance, the speaker appears to be confessing to a crime. But, of course, Dickinson’s speaker is not confessing to an actual robbery. Instead, she is playing with metaphor, turning the act of noticing nature’s beauty into something mischievous and thrilling.

    First Movement: A Startling Confession

    I robbed the Woods –
    The trusting Woods.

    Right away, the speaker makes a dramatic declaration: she has stolen something. Not just from anywhere, but from “the Woods.” This opening line grabs our attention. We instinctively wonder—what exactly has she stolen?

    And how does one even “rob” a forest? Before we can fully process these questions, the speaker adds an unexpected detail: the woods were “trusting.” This makes the whole situation even more strange.

    The natural world is not something we usually think of as trusting or naïve, but Dickinson’s speaker gives it a personality here. The woods, in its openness, has allowed itself to be “robbed.” This choice of words makes the supposed crime feel both playful and profound.

    With this setup, the speaker draws us into a mystery. What was stolen? Why does the speaker consider it a robbery? And will the woods—so trusting and unguarded—react to this act of theft? These questions pull us deeper into the poem, eager for answers.

    Second Movement: Pleasing Her Fantasy

    The unsuspecting Trees
    Brought out their Burs and mosses
    My fantasy to please.

    Now, the speaker begins to explain. The trees, completely unaware of her intentions, put their treasures on display—”Burs and mosses.” These details immediately paint a picture of the forest: rich textures, small natural wonders that might normally go unnoticed.

    The way the speaker describes it, the trees act almost like merchants in a marketplace, showing off their goods. It is as if they are inviting admiration, just like a jeweler might showcase glistening diamonds and pearls.

    But instead of precious stones, these trees offer their own organic “trinkets”—simple, earthy, yet still mesmerizing in their own way. The speaker tells us that all of this was done “to please [her] fantasy.” This line is very important.

    It suggests that the entire experience—the observation, the appreciation, and ultimately the “robbery”—exists in the realm of imagination. This act is not a literal theft. Instead, it is about the way the speaker experiences nature: as something so generous and beautiful that it feels like a gift meant just for her.

    Third Movement: Absconding with Treasures

    I scanned their trinkets curious –
    I grasped – I bore away –

    At this point, the speaker goes from passive observer to active participant. She doesn’t just look at the forest’s offerings—she takes them. The moment of action is quick and decisive: she scans, grasps, and then flees, just like a thief making off with stolen goods.

    The word “trinkets” adds another layer of meaning. It reinforces the idea that what she is “stealing” isn not something grand or material, but rather small, delicate details—the kind of things most people might overlook. But for the speaker, these tiny elements of nature are priceless treasures.

    What is striking here is the speaker’s sense of urgency. She does not linger or ask permission. Instead, she takes what she sees and makes off with it. This moment captures the essence of artistic inspiration.

    Writers and artists often “steal” from the world around them—not in a dishonest way, but by absorbing details, emotions, and experiences to transform them into something new.

    Fourth Movement: The Metaphor of Theft

    What will the solemn Hemlock –
    What will the Oak tree say?

    Now that the “crime” has been committed, the speaker pauses to consider the consequences. Will the trees—specifically the “solemn Hemlock” and “Oak tree”—react to her actions? By naming these trees, the speaker gives them weight and personality.

    The hemlock, often associated with seriousness (and even poison, as in the case of Socrates), contrasts with the sturdy and dependable oak. The speaker seems to be wondering if these wise old trees will judge her for what she has done.

    But, of course, trees do not speak. The question is rhetorical, reinforcing the idea that the “robbery” is symbolic. The speaker has not taken anything physical—no branches, no leaves, no moss. Instead, she has taken impressions, memories, and inspiration. The true theft is not from the forest itself, but from the experience of being in it.

    A Crimeless “Crime”

    In the end, Dickinson’s speaker has not done anything wrong. Her so-called “robbery” is simply a metaphor for the way we experience and internalize the world around us. The poet “steals” moments—images, sensations, emotions—and carries them away, transforming them into art.

    This poem is a playful yet profound meditation on the relationship between nature and creativity of the human mind. It reminds us that beauty is all around us, freely given, just waiting for someone to notice.

    And in noticing—really noticing the details involved—we take a little piece of it with us. We “steal” these glimpses of wonder, storing them in our minds and hearts, where they become part of us.

    For Dickinson’s speaker, this act of “theft” is not a crime, but a necessary part of being a poet. Observing the world with keen awareness, collecting its details, and reshaping them into something new—this is what poetry is all about. And, as this poem suggests, the woods will not mind. They trust us to take what we need and carry it forward in our own way.

    Celebrating Poetic Inspiration

    Emily Dickinson’s “I Robbed the Woods” is more than just a clever metaphor—it is a celebration of artistic inspiration. It invites us to look at the world around us with fresh eyes, to appreciate the small details, and to recognize the quiet generosity of nature.

    So the next time you find yourself walking through the woods, pay attention. Notice the way the moss clings to the bark, the way the light streams through the leaves, the way the air smells after the rain. Take it all in.

    And if you feel as if you have stolen a little something in the process—you need not worry. The trees, the light, and smell of rain will not mind, because they were divinely offering all of this to you free of charge.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I like to see it lap the Miles”

    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 like to see it lap the Miles”

    Mastercraftsman and talented mystical investigator Emily Dickinson composed several poems that function somewhat like riddles; they do not mention their subject, which can be determined only by correctly interpreting the poetic devices.

    Introduction and Text of “I like to see it lap the Miles”

    Emily Dickinson composed most of her poems, focusing and delving into profound themes: life, death, the afterlife (immortality), and complex human relationships.  However, the reclusive poet also composed a number of poems that show a propensity for pure fun.  

    These poems may be rightfully called riddles as they only suggest the subject, allowing the reader to suss out what the subject is.  “I like to see it lap the Miles” remains one of her most anthologized efforts, which teachers like to use to entice student’s poetic prowess.

    I like to see it lap the Miles

    I like to see it lap the Miles –
    And lick the Valleys up –
    And stop to feed itself at Tanks –
    And then – prodigious step

    Around a Pile of Mountains –
    And supercilious peer
    In Shanties – by the sides of Roads –
    And then a Quarry pare

    To fit its Ribs
    And crawl between
    Complaining all the while
    In horrid – hooting stanza –
    Then chase itself down Hill –

    And neigh like Boanerges –
    Then – punctual as a Star
    Stop – docile and omnipotent
    At its own stable door –

    Commentary on “I like to see it lap the Miles”

    The poem “I like to see it lap the Miles” plays out in four stanzas with the first, second, and fourth containing four lines, and the third five lines.  This poem presents a double metaphor making it also a double riddle.  Two questions arise regarding its contents:  Who (or what) is the actor in the poem?  What is the actor doing?

    First Stanza:  What the Speaker Likes

    I like to see it lap the Miles –
    And lick the Valleys up –
    And stop to feed itself at Tanks –
    And then – prodigious step

    The first stanza finds the speaker asserting that she likes, “to see it lap the Miles / And lick the Valleys up / And stop to feed itself at Tanks.”

    The “it” of this riddle/poem seems to be an animal gulping up water perhaps, and nipping at a salt lick or gobbling food; however, it then does what an animal would never do when it stops to “feed itself at Tanks.”

    Second Stanza:  First Blush Inaccurate

    Around a Pile of Mountains –
    And supercilious peer
    In Shanties – by the sides of Roads –
    And then a Quarry pare

    This subject may at first seem like an animal, likely a horse, but it becomes clear that it is not a horse.  It has to be a subject more powerful; it has the ability to “step” “Around a Pile of Mountains.”

    Third Stanza:  What No Animal Can Do

    To fit its Ribs
    And crawl between
    Complaining all the while
    In horrid – hooting stanza –
    Then chase itself down Hill –

    In addition to gaining speed around a mountain, this subject can peep into the little “shanties” along the way.  Also, this subject can cut out enough room for it to fit the mountain, “To . . . its Ribs.”

    Even though the subject itself could not possibly have carved out its own way through the mountain, and it was necessary for some other object to do so, this procedure was previously accomplished, so the speaker leaves it in something of a blur.

    This stanza affirms that the subject is not an animal: it makes a noise “in horrid – hooting stanza.”  While owls might make hooting sounds, surely no owl could have performed the tasks that this one has already done.  Thus horse clearly presents itself as a candidate as a metaphor for something.   

    Fourth Stanza:  Biblical Allusion

    And neigh like Boanerges –
    Then – punctual as a Star
    Stop – docile and omnipotent
    At its own stable door –

    The final piece of the description shows the subject as it “chase[s] itself down Hill” while it “neigh[s] like Boanerges.”   “Boanerges” is a term found in the King James Version of the Holy Bible at Mark 3:17, indicating “sons of thunder,” an appellation Jesus Christ applied to John and James because they so loudly displayed their zeal for evangelizing.   

    Finally, the subject arrives on time at its destination, heralding the end of this trip.  It becomes “docile and omnipotent / At its own stable door.”   While the metaphor of a horse continued throughout the description in the poem, readers/listeners will at last understand that the subject is, in fact, a train, which is, of course, not a biological horse but is, indeed, an “iron horse.”  

    Thus the answers to the beginning questions:  (1) it is a train (2) traveling through the countryside, ultimately arriving on time at its appointed destination.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

    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 https://www.amherst.edu/library/archives/holdings/edickinson

    Emily Dickinson’s “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

    Emily Dickinson composed several poems that are just pure fun; they work similarly to riddles, not mentioning their subject that can be determined only by a correct interpretation of the poetic devices.

    Introduction and Text of “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

    It is widely understood that Emily Dickinson fashioned most of her poems to focus on profound themes: life, death, the afterlife (immortality), and complex human relationships.

    However, the Amherst recluse also composed a number of poems that show a propensity for pure fun.  These poems may be validly called riddles as they describe the subject but allow the reader to ferret out what the subject is.

    It sifts from Leaden Sieves

    It sifts from Leaden Sieves –
    It powders all the Wood.
    It fills with Alabaster Wool
    The Wrinkles of the Road –

    It makes an Even Face
    Of Mountain, and of Plain –
    Unbroken Forehead from the East
    Unto the East again –

    It reaches to the Fence –
    It wraps it Rail by Rail
    Till it is lost in Fleeces –
    It deals Celestial Vail

    To Stump, and Stack – and Stem –
    A Summer’s empty Room –
    Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,
    Recordless, but for them–

    It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
    As Ankles of a Queen –
    Then stills its Artisans – like Ghosts –
    Denying they have been –

    Commentary on “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

    This Dickinson poem functions as a riddle and remains on of her most widely anthologized creations.  The poem displays in 5 four-line stanzas.

    First Stanza:  The Opening Metaphor

    It sifts from Leaden Sieves –
    It powders all the Wood.
    It fills with Alabaster Wool
    The Wrinkles of the Road –

    The speaker begins by metaphorically describing the item as a material that behaves much as does flour that one would use to bake a cake.  The substance that “sifts from Leaden Sieves” is behaving as if a housewife or baker might be doing in sifting flour for baking.

    As the housewife sifts the flour, she places it in a bowl to prepare the dough; then she spreads the flour over a countertop or cutting board so she can roll out the dough.  However, the poem’s sifted substance does not end up in a bowl, not even in the house at all, but in the woods. As it does so, it fills in the cracks in the road and has the appearance of  “Alabaster Wool.”

    Second Stanza:  A Kitchen Metaphor

    It makes an Even Face
    Of Mountain, and of Plain –
    Unbroken Forehead from the East
    Unto the East again –

    Then the kitchen metaphor transforms into a hyperbolic face as the speaker asserts that this substance has piled so high that it creates the illusion that a mountain and the plain that appear level; it is “Unbroken Forehead from the East / Unto the East again.”

    Third Stanza:  Moving Outdoors

    It reaches to the Fence –
    It wraps it Rail by Rail
    Till it is lost in Fleeces –
    It deals Celestial Vail

    The speaker then has the substance reaching to the fence where it forms a ring around the rail, making the fence appear to be wearing wedding gear.  The speaker describes the fields on which the substance has landed as “Summer’s empty Room”; the fields have been harvested and only stubble is still standing. 

    Fourth Stanza:  A Substance That Seems Ubiquitous 

    To Stump, and Stack – and Stem –
    A Summer’s empty Room –
    Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,
    Recordless, but for them–

    Now the substance fills up the empty field.  It become unrecognizable as a field but for the several stalks that still stand up through the white material that has fallen on them like flour over a countertop.

    Fifth Stanza:  The Sifting Powder Made Plain

    It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
    As Ankles of a Queen –
    Then stills its Artisans – like Ghosts –
    Denying they have been –

    In the final stanza, the speaker portrays the substance of some lace-like material that might be worn by a queen, but it is adding ruffles to the “Wrists of Posts.”  Suddenly, the weather changes, it stops snowing, and it seems that craftsmen suddenly ceased their work. 

    The scene has been created, and by this time, readers and listeners will be aware that the substance that “sifts from Leaden Sieves” and “powders” the landscape is none other than snow, which the poem/riddle has never named, but only suggested.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “When I count the seeds”

    In "When I count the seeds," Emily Dickinson’s speaker is contemplating her spiritual garden, wherein she plants and grows the metaphorical seeds for her poems.  She introduced this garden in the poem, "There is another sky."
    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 I count the seeds”

    In “When I count the seeds,” Emily Dickinson’s speaker is contemplating her spiritual garden, wherein she plants and grows the metaphorical seeds for her poems.  She introduced this garden in the poem, “There is another sky.”

    Introduction and Text of “When I count the seeds”

    In her poem, “There is another sky,” Emily Dickinson creates a speaker who introduces her own spiritual, mystical garden, the second poem featured in Editor Thomas Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, the volume in which Johnson presents Dickinson’s original forms, rescuing them from the versions that had been manipulated and altered by editors such as Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Higginson.

    In “When I count the seeds,” the speaker is musing on the nature of her spiritual garden of verse and ultimately concludes its importance for her.  After such mental forays into the blessed garden, her beloved, favorite season, “summer,” she can leave without trepidation.

    The form of the poem is structured on three “when” clauses, after which the speaker makes the claim that something happens following the activities in the clauses.  Because of the vague nature of the adverbial conjunction, “when,” one should think of its meaning as “after.” It is after each of the events in the “when” clauses that the last line’s activity becomes possible.

    When I count the seeds

    When I count the seeds
    That are sown beneath,
    To bloom so, bye and bye –

    When I con the people
    Lain so low,
    To be received as high –

    When I believe the garden
    Mortal shall not see –
    Pick by faith its blossom
    And avoid its Bee,
    I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.

    Commentary on “When I count the seeds”

    Each “when” clause features an event, after the sum of which the speaker becomes relieved of the human trepidation of regret at losing some desired situation.  In this case, it is simply the passing of summer.  

    The speaker feels a certain melancholy at the end of the summer season.  That emotion presents a problem that she must solve, lest she remain in blue funk.  Her wide brain is up to the task, as she storms her garden of verse for the answer to the difficulty.

    First Stanza:  Taking Stock

    When I count the seeds
    That are sown beneath,
    To bloom so, bye and bye –


    From time to time, the speaker takes stock of her little garden.  In this musing, she begins by implying that something will occur after she has “count[ed] the seeds.”  She reports that the seeds once planted beneath the soil in the spiritual garden, they do, as any seed will, bloom, as time goes by.

    An interesting tension results because “the seeds” are the ideas, thoughts, and/or prompts for each poem in her spiritually effected garden. After each idea or thought or prompt has been sown, it will blossom forth into a perfect flower-poem.  In time, she has found that she possesses many seeds as well as flowers to be reckoned with.

    The term “count” is employed metaphorically to stand as “reckon,” “contemplate,” or more likely even, “muse,” rather than the literal, mathematical rendering of the term’s definition. She is not counting to find out how many seeds she has; she is musing on the lot for the glory of outcome they possess.

    Second Stanza:  Continuing to Contemplate

    When I con the people
    Lain so low,
    To be received as high –

    The second “when” clause addresses the time-frame wherein the speaker has contemplated folks who have been demoted from high station to low but likely still remain held in high regard to many others.  Some folks have died, and yet their reputations have been elevated.

    The speaker’s reason for musing on this situation likely ascends out of a need to place evaluations on the stages of life.  To be placed “so low” metaphorically responds to being placed in the lowest position the human body may find itself, that is, in the bottom of a grave.  

    Yet, the generality of the phrase “so low” remains easily understood as position in life from a lowly profession to a high one, for example, a dog catcher to a president or CEO.  After such cogitation on the seeds of her spiritual garden and then on the various degrees of humanity, the speaker is almost ready to assert her report about what happens next.

    Third Stanza:   Achievement of Purpose

    When I believe the garden
    Mortal shall not see –
    Pick by faith its blossom
    And avoid its Bee,
    I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.

    In the final “when” clause, the speaker is asserting that after she has had the opportunity to survey the marvelous, mystical garden, which may not be perceived through “mortal” vision, her faith allows her to pluck any of the garden’s magic blossoms.

    And then she can re-experience any of the poems which have thus far been cultivated therein without attracting the painful attention of the worrisome sting of “its Bee,” a natural creature that would bedevil any literal garden.

    So after she has contemplated the seeds (thoughts, feelings), which have led to sprouting those flowers (poems), and after she has mused on the nature of human status, and finally after she has plucked (read) one of those “blossom[s]” (poems), she can recover from feeling any sorrow and regret that her beloved, favorite season of summer is now coming to a close.

    The little drama featured in this poem remains so simple, yet through the instrumentality of the complex talent possessed by the poet, the resulting discourse features a colorful, strikingly refreshing account that reveals the nature of profound, intuitive thinking.  

    The poet possessed virtually magical powers of seeing deep into the nature of each created object, into each empirical development, and into each observable array of kinetic energy that infused those things and events.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “By such and such an offering”

    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 https://www.amherst.edu/library/archives/holdings/edickinson

    Emily Dickinson’s “By such and such an offering”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “By such and such an offering” is exploring the nature of duplicity by those who feign elevated status through appropriating experience that they have not in fact endured.

    Introduction and Text of “By such and such an offering”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s four-line verse begins mysteriously but then suggests a remarkable indictment of those who feign martyrdom.  Those who exaggerate their suffering in life but have little to show for it are often those who put on display their complaints.  

    The phony religious who amble about with colorless, sad expressions, those who suffer from physical ailments but exaggerate for attention, those who remain boastful of their contributions to society that anyone paying attention will realize are meagre—these supposed “martyrs” remain so only to their own confused thinking.

    The speaker is calling attention to such bombastic displays.  As the “web of life” is woven, it does remain salient that it “takes all kinds.”  This speaker offers no remedy—just an insightful observation that such ilk exists, and perhaps a warning to watch out for them and not be fooled by insincerity and lack of clarity.

    By such and such an offering

    By such and such an offering
    To Mr. So and So,
    The web of life woven –
    So martyrs albums show!

    Commentary on “By such and such an offering”

    The speaker is offering an observation of a certain segment of the social order whose exaggerated rhetoric attempts to hoist their pettiness to the exalted status of martyrdom.

    First Movement:  The Undeclared

    By such and such an offering
    To Mr. So and So,

    The speaker begins with two prepositional phrases that point to some activity being directed to an unknown entity: specifically something is being given to someone.  The phrases “such and such” and “So and So” indicate that the speaker is not identifying the gift nor is she naming to whom the gift is given.  

    The speaker does, however, qualify the receiver of the gift as a masculine human being, signaled by “Mr.”; thus, the terms of the phrase “So and So” stand for a name and are capitalized.

    The speaker has thus set up a puzzling dynamic by essentially reporting somewhat mysteriously that something was given, or perhaps will be given, to someone (some man).  She allows her audience to remain puzzled by not only what the gift may be, or will be, but also by who will be, or has been, the receiver of that gift.

    At this point, the speaker has simply claimed that what was given was an “offering.”  She does not say that what was given was a “present” or a “gift”; instead she uses the more weighty term “offering,” which differs from other items given through its special status: an offering connotes something given for religious or worship purposes, or some other universally relevant purpose. An ordinary gift is usually something presented to an individual or small group of individuals.

    Thus this gift retains a different status from an ordinary gift, in that it must have some purpose other than the mere giving of a gift for Christmas or birthday or other culturally personalized holiday.  Thus instead of a personal gift, this offering will retain a wider, more inclusive purpose.

    Second Movement:  Completed Mystery

    The web of life woven –
    So martyrs albums show!

    The speaker then completes the thought begun in the first movement, but she still remains quite mysterious because she does not actually offer a complete sentence or statement.  Her musing thus remains fragmented, as if she were merely jotting down a note for later employment in a larger context.

    The speaker then makes the lofty claim about life: life’s “web” has been woven.  While only life’s Creator can be credited with weaving the “web of life,” the speaker again indicates that she will remain mysterious in her remarks by not elaborating her claim but by diverting the direction of her report to individuals who have experienced extreme suffering perhaps even death (“martyrs”), who then display their suffering through a series of blank pages (“albums”) filled with images from their history.

    The speaker has thus suggested her own puzzlement that life can be filled with so many perplexing events.  But she seizes upon the one turn of events that has impressed her mightily in likely a negative or perhaps even a humorous way:  that the sufferers who offer their oblations at the feet materiality and yet portend to suffer as martyrs nevertheless gather their badges and demonstrate them to an unsuspecting world.

    The true martyr to the spiritual cause may be celebrated by others down through the centuries.  Their adherence to truth is to be emulated, but it will be hoped that their being martyred unto death may be avoided.  

    But those who put on display their suffering through flagitiousness or deleterious behavior will be adjudicated duplicitous as they “show” their “albums” instead allowing them to work through the mystery of silent, masterful ascendance.

    Thus the vaunted “offering” is revealed as a profligate collection garnered by the supposed “martyrs” and bestowed on “Mr. So and So,” who has remained merely a nebulous, unsuspecting target of the feigning, exaggerating sufferers. 

    That unknown citizen—representing the conglomerate of the world’s citizens—remains an amorphous being to whom the would-be martyrs may put on display their imperfections and bleared commodities.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Before the ice is in the pools”

    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 “Before the ice is in the pools”

    Many of Emily Dickinson’s poems suggest that the poet experienced a number of mystical awakenings—events that, no doubt, informed and directed her skill in speaking about ineffable subjects.  This poem is one of her most profound in elucidating her situation after such an experience.

    Introduction and Text of “Before the ice is in the pools”

    This poem, “Before the ice is in the pools,” is one of Emily Dickinson’s most profound as it reveals the speaker’s experience in mystical awareness.  The skill with which the poet has fashioned this time-looping experience unveils the master craftsmanship possessed by this poet.  Her ability to unravel webs of time remains one of her chief strengths.  

    Emily Dickinson likely had the King James Version of the Holy Bible virtually by heart, and in this poem she employs an allusion to touching the hem of a garment that informs the poem as no other image could do.  Her ability to make the ineffable understandable has resulted in one of the most momentous literary accomplishments of all time.

    Before the ice is in the pools

    Before the ice is in the pools –
    Before the skaters go,
    Or any cheek at nightfall
    Is tarnished by the snow –

    Before the fields have finished,
    Before the Christmas tree,
    Wonder upon wonder
    Will arrive to me!

    What we touch the hems of
    On a summer’s day –
    What is only walking
    Just a bridge away –

    That which sings so – speaks so –
    When there’s no one here –
    Will the frock I wept in
    Answer me to wear?

    Commentary on “Before the ice is in the pools”

    With images from the seasons, references to physical activities, and an all important allusion to the King James Version of the Holy Bible, the speaker in this poem accomplishes the amazing feat of revealing the fact that she has undergone a mystical experience that will, in fact, change her life.

    First Stanza:  Before Winter

    Before the ice is in the pools –
    Before the skaters go,
    Or any cheek at nightfall
    Is tarnished by the snow –

    The speaker begins by delineating a period of time that is some time before winter, when pools of ice form in the New England freeze, and when people go skating on those slick tracts of frozen water.  

    She also describes that before-period as a time before nighttime will find snowflakes landing on the faces of the skaters.   Thus the speaker has referenced quite down-to-earth, physical images that any New Englander, nay any citizen residing north of the Mason-Dixon line, would have experienced.

    So before all of those events take place, some momentous event is likely in the offing.  The reader, at this point, will suspect s/he is being led to some occurrence that the speaker has experienced and found amazing. 

    Such suspicions come from even any cursory acquaintance with this particular poet, who fashions her speaker to deliver mysterious, minimally phrased, and very often mystical messages.

    Second Stanza:  Something Wonderful Will Happen

    Before the fields have finished,
    Before the Christmas tree,
    Wonder upon wonder
    Will arrive to me!

    The speaker continues with her insistence that this special event will happen—or has happened—before the winter season.  That targeted period of time remains, apparently while the fields planted in crops will still be flourishing and before “the Christmas tree” has begun to be decorated for that most important winter holiday, featuring the Christmas season.

    Unexpectedly, the speaker then reveals her claim of amazement: “[w]onder upon wonder / Will arrive to me!”  The speaker conflates time that would bamboozle readers, coming from any less skilled craftsman.  

    At first, it seems that she is referring to some event that occurred before winter, but then she seems to be stating that the event has not yet occurred but “will arrive to [her].”  The reader now seems to understand that whatever this momentous event is it has not actually happened yet.  

    Third Stanza:  Touching the Hem of Sacredness

    What we touch the hems of
    On a summer’s day –
    What is only walking
    Just a bridge away –

    The speaker now offers two “what” clauses that set up the situation that caused this momentous event.  She generalizes the situation, though, claiming that what “we” do causes certain things to happen.  

    What we do in summer will affect what we do in the seasons that follow.  The speaker is guiding the reader to visually experience a metaphoric likeness of what has happened in her mind.  

    The allusion to touching the hems echoes touching the hem of the garment of a sacred personage. For example, in the King James Version of the Bible, the line, “And, behold, a woman, which was diseased with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment” (Matthew 9:20) features the act of touching the hem of Christ Jesus’ garment. 

    It is without doubt that Dickinson is alluding to that singular event of hem touching in her line, “what we touch the hems of.”  Just as the woman experienced a mystical healing at the mere touch of Jesus’ garment, the speaker will—or has already—experience(d) such a mystical event by touching the hem of a “summer’s day.”

    By personifying a summer day, the speaker allows the reader to visualize the experience of a mystical visitation.  This particular being who like the mystery and beauty of a summer day, however, is walking or exists over the bridge between the physical and astral worlds.  

    What we visualize on this physical level of being influences what may appear across the heavenly “bridge.”  The place and time that is playing out beyond that bridge cannot be known, except by deep intuition and special visitation by angelic beings who inhabit that astral, mystical region.

    Fourth Stanza:  Remaining Humble

    That which sings so – speaks so –
    When there’s no one here –
    Will the frock I wept in
    Answer me to wear?

    The speaker has now revealed that she has experienced a mystical union with the Divine Reality, but she needs to put an even finer point on her revelation.  Thus she claims that something so beautiful that sings also speaks.

    And this Entity speaks to her when she is alone—in quietness and stillness, the only time that she can feel her soul unity with the Divine Creator—reflecting the biblical injunction, “Be still, and know that I am God” (KJV Psalm 46:10).

    The speaker then asks the question, will she remain worthy of such an experience as the seasons wear on?  She reveals that she “wept” upon experiencing this divine bestowal of enlightenment and grace.

    And she now wonders if it will occur to her again.  The reader will remember that the speaker has already claimed that such experience “will” remain hers, when she claimed “[w]onder upon wonder / Will arrive to me!”  

    Now the speaker backtracks a bit, wondering if she can again bear that same experience as when she first wept at its arrival.  Such an apparent contradiction, however, becomes little more than a paradox upon further thought.   Of course, such a daunting, revealing experience would give one pause to wonder if it will come again. 

    Her earlier effusion merely demonstrates the positivity of mind and heart that the mystical experience encourages, but upon further reflection because she continues to reside upon this mud ball of a plant, she must retain a certain level of skepticism in order to remain humble enough to even deserve the continuation of such mystical visitation.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Snow flakes”

    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 “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.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose”

    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 “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.