Linda's Literary Home

Category: Emily Dickinson

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Through lane it lay – through bramble”

    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 “Through lane it lay – through bramble”

    Emily Dickinson’s speaker employs an extended metaphor that likens the human’s path through life on a troubled planet to a simple walk through the woods—a woods that is, however, anything but ordinary.

    Introduction and Text of “Through lane it lay – through bramble”

    The speaker in Dickinson’s “Through lane it lay – through bramble” takes her audience through an imaginary journey that on the superficial level remains a journey of fantasy filled with danger, as it is colorfully allusive to mythological creatures attempting to attack a flock of children as they venture home.

    But Dickinson never leaves her readers moving gleefully from the adventure story stage; thus, her simple adventure is actually performing as an extended metaphor likening the life of human beings on this earth to a dangerous journey through a mythological forest.

    Through lane it lay – through bramble

    Through lane it lay – through bramble –
    Through clearing and through wood –
    Banditti often passed us
    Upon the lonely road.

    The wolf came peering curious –
    The owl looked puzzled down –
    The serpent’s satin figure
    Glid stealthily along –

    The tempests touched our garments –
    The lightning’s poinards gleamed –
    Fierce from the Crag above us
    The hungry Vulture screamed –

    The satyr’s fingers beckoned –
    The valley murmured “Come” –
    These were the mates –
    This was the road
    Those children fluttered home.

    Commentary on “Through lane it lay – through bramble”

    The speaker in “Through lane it lay – through bramble” is using an extended metaphor, likening the human life-path on a distressed planet to a simple walk through a woodland; however, this woodland is quite extraordinary.

    First Stanza:  Another Jaunty Riddle

    Through lane it lay – through bramble –
    Through clearing and through wood –
    Banditti often passed us
    Upon the lonely road.

    In the opening stanza, the speaker begins rather quietly and again almost hinting that this poem will be another jaunty riddle.  She inserts that nebulous “it,” only stating where it “lay” and led:  in a lane and rambled through “bramble”; it also ran through a “clearing” and also through a “wood.”

    The speaker then identifies the “it” as a “lonely road,” in the same breath as asserting that the little group of folks was often passed by marauding robber gangs, or “banditti.”   She employs the rare spelling for “bandits.”  

    One can imagine the poet running upon that word and laying it away for later use in a poem.  Dickinson did enjoy the appearance of cosmopolitanism; she was amused by the charm of worldly engagement, even as she peered intensely into the ultra personal, the ultimate individual soul.

    Second Stanza:  The Fantastic Journey

    The wolf came peering curious –
    The owl looked puzzled down –
    The serpent’s satin figure
    Glid stealthily along –

    The speaker continues the fantastic journey.  After describing the “lonely road” on which the travelers are traveling, she now describes animals that the group encounters.  Wolves that seem quite nosey come and stare at them.  From up in trees, “puzzled” owls peer down at them.  They even observe snakes slithering “stealthily along.”

    The speaker skillfully now begins to drop hints that this is no ordinary walk through the woods.  After providing imagery that has thus far remained quite literally earthly, she employs the term “serpent” for snake.  

    The term “serpent” adds heft to the image of the creature that simply glides upon the earth because that term immediately identifies that creature as the creature from the biblical Genesis–that evil one who tempted the first pair of human beings to ignore the only commandment placed upon them by their Creator-God.  

    Third Stanza:  No Ordinary Journey

    The tempests touched our garments –
    The lightning’s poinards gleamed –
    Fierce from the Crag above us
    The hungry Vulture screamed –

    The speaker continues to deviate her description from an ordinary jaunt through the  woods.  Now she asserts that their clothes were disheveled by “tempests” – not merely did a storm blow up and get them wet.  

    The storms were “tempests,” or many violent storms, a term which again increases the severity the situation and likely alludes to the Shakespeare play, “The Tempest,” which featured a convoluted tale of intrigue and romance, in other words, a simulacrum of the world with its trials and tribulations along with intrigue and romance.

    As the speaker describes the lightning from these “tempests,” she employs the term “poinards.”  That French term “poignard” means dagger.  When anglicized, the correct spelling of the term is “poniard.”  

    Yet for some reason Dickinson has once again baffled her readers with an obvious departure from the accurate spelling of the term.  And again one wonders why Thomas H. Johnson, the editor who restored Dickinson’s poems to the forms that more closely represent her originals, did not quietly correct that spelling.

    Regardless of the reasoning behind the spelling “poinards,” the speaker uses the term for the continued purpose of supporting the extended metaphor of a treacherous journey through life on earth.  Just as the storms are “tempests,” the lightning gleams in daggers.  

    The claims of the scenarios must remain somewhat exaggerated in order to deepen and widen the metaphor from simple journey through the woods to complex journey on the path of life through a threatening world.

    The speaker thus continues to transport her audience from that simply walk through the woods to the journey on the path of life through a menacing world.  

    Fourth Stanza:  The Allure of Lust

    The satyr’s fingers beckoned –
    The valley murmured “Come” –
    These were the mates –
    This was the road
    Those children fluttered home.

    The final movement finds the speaker addressing the issue of human lust.  Just as the first pair was hassled by the serpent and urged to commit the one sin that would banish them from their garden paradise, all of the children resulting from that pair’s falling are hassled and urged to commit that same sin repeatedly.  

    This “road’ through life is replete with the fingers of lust luring, “beckon[ing]” the children to “come” into that “valley” of lustful pleasure.  The not-so-subtle images of “fingers” and “valley” complete the metaphor and remind the audience that those “mates” on this road have caused “those children” the misery of having to “flutter” on their way home.

    The only bright and optimistic hope is that those children are, in fact, on their way home, and that they will finally begin to realize that those satyr “fingers” plunging into those “valleys” only beckon one to death, not to the pleasure promised by those liars.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “There is a word”

    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 “There is a word”

    Emily Dickinson’s “There is a word” features one of the poet’s many poems that may qualify as riddles.  She keeps the reader guessing until the end when she finally reveals the “word” that “bears a sword.”

    Introduction and Text of “There is a word”

    Many of Emily Dickinson’s riddle poems never mention the word or thing her speaker is describing.  Examples of two of those mentionless riddles are, “It sifts from Leaden Sieves,” and “I like to see it lap the Miles.”  

    While Dickinson’s “There is a word” does begin as a riddle, it only remains so until the final line, in which the speaker does reveal what word it is that she is finding so troublesome.

    There is a word

    There is a word
    Which bears a sword
    Can pierce an armed man –
    It hurls its barbed syllables
    And is mute again –
    But where it fell
    The saved will tell
    On patriotic day,
    Some epauletted Brother
    Gave his breath away.

    Wherever runs the breathless sun –
    Wherever roams the day –
    There is its noiseless onset –
    There is its victory!
    Behold the keenest marksman!
    The most accomplished shot!
    Time’s sublimest target
    Is a soul “forgot!”

    Commentary on “There is a word”

    This poem is one of the poet’s many poems that may qualify as a  riddle.  She keeps her audience guessing about the word she is describing until the end when she finally reveals the “word” that “bears a sword.”

    First Movement:  The Riddle Begins

    There is a word
    Which bears a sword
    Can pierce an armed man –
    It hurls its barbed syllables
    And is mute again –

    The speaker begins with what seems to be a riddle by asserting that a certain word exists that carries “a sword.”  This word must be very sharp indeed because it can “pierce an armed man.”  This sharp word has “barbed syllables,” and after it “hurls” those sharp syllables, it returns to silence.

    The first movement then has set up a scenario in which a certain “word” is dramatized with the unsavory characteristic of a weapon.  This claim might offer a contradiction to the little ditty that goes, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”  

    The “sticks and stone” claim used to be offered to children to assist them in dealing with a bully.  It was meant to deflect the child’s mind from taking the bullying as a personal affront.  

    If someone breaks your bones with a weapon, you have little recourse but to allow time to heal your broken bones.  If someone hurls painful rhetoric at you, you have the option of not keeping your mind focused on that rhetoric and thus, you are not hurt.

    However, there is a school of thought that has always found the “sticks and stones” advice wanting, claiming that words can definitely hurt one.  And of course, both schools of thought have their merits.  

    A sharp, weaponized “word” hurled even at an “armed man” can pierce the psyche and render untold damage, if the victim finds it difficult to place her mind on other things.

    Second  Movement:  A Metaphorical Weapon

    But where it fell
    The saved will tell
    On patriotic day,
    Some epauletted Brother
    Gave his breath away.

    In the second movement, the speaker metaphorically likens a fallen victim of some weaponized word to a martyr to the cause of patriotism.  Like an “epauletted Brother” who fights to protect the citizens of his nation, who willingly gives “his breath away,” the victim of this sharp word will be praised by those the brother saved.

    This speaker is demonstrating that she is referring to words that hurt the psyche, not necessarily the bones or the flesh.  But in order to dramatize the scenario, she metaphorically paints the images in military terms, which she continues through the remaining two movements.

    Third  Movement:  An Astounding Notion

    Wherever runs the breathless sun –
    Wherever roams the day –
    There is its noiseless onset –
    There is its victory!

    That the sun may be considered “breathless” is an astounding notion.  But that notion along with the roaming of the day places the entire scene beyond the physical level of being.  The “noiseless onset” is the space wherein that weaponized word has failed to penetrate.

    Had that failure of penetration continued, there would have been a great “victory.”  But that victory does not materialize.  It cannot as it is placed in an impossible location where the sun runs breathless and where the day may be understood to have the ability to “roam.”

    Without breath, the human being cannot utter any word, weaponized or not.  And that silent space of time remains a blessed opposition to the battleground where pain and suffering occur.  

    Beyond that battleground, that is, beyond the physical level of existence, those who have achieved the status of “breathless sun” will achieve their victory over those weaponized words.

    Fourth  Movement:  Again, the Military Metaphor

    Behold the keenest marksman!
    The most accomplished shot!
    Time’s sublimest target
    Is a soul “forgot!”

    Again, employing the military metaphor, the speaker commands her listener/reader to observe and consider the “keenest marksman,” who has accomplished the highest level of shooting ability. 

    Finally, the speaker reveals that word that she finds to be the one that “bears a sword.”  That word is the simple word “forgot.”  But she has framed that word by claiming it is “Time’s sublimest target” which is, “a soul” “forgot!”

    The exclamation point following the word “forgot” is vital to the total meaning of the poem.  By placing that punctuation mark outside the quotation marks, the emphasis on the word is removed.

    The ambiguity of the following two-line sentence continues to keep the poem a riddle:

    Time’s sublimest target
    Is a soul “forgot!”

    That sentence can be understood two ways:

    1. The most difficult thing for any human being is that her mind has forgotten that she is a soul.
    2. The hardest thing for a person to hear is that she has been forgotten by someone else.

    Interestingly, the ambiguity of those final two lines, that is, the two alternate interpretations give the poem its depth of meaning.  The result of anything that has been  “forgot” remains a disfiguring absence to any human being—physically, mentally, or spiritually.

    When the two instances of forgetting are bound up into one painful event, even the “armed man” who has been shot by the “keenest marksman” will fall victim and suffer from the barbed syllables hurled at him.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “On this wondrous sea”

    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 “On this wondrous sea”

    In the first movement of Dickinson’s “On this wondrous sea,” the speaker addresses God as the metaphorical pilot of a metaphorical seafaring vessel; in the second movement, the speaker allows that “pilot” to speak as He answers her supplicating question.

    Introduction and Text of “On this wondrous sea”

    Emily Dickinson’s fourth poem in Thomas H. Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson may be thought of as the beginning of her true style and content.  The first three poems feature two Valentine messages ( “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine” and “Sic transit gloria mundi“) and an invitation (“There is another sky”) to her brother, Austin, to come and experience the new world she is creating with her poetry.

    In contrast to the first three entries in Dickinson’s complete poems, “On this wondrous sea” sets out on a journey of poetry creation that will involve her belovèd Creator, whom she will beseech and at times even argue with in her zeal to substantiate truth and beauty in her other “sky.”

    In a very real sense, the Dickinson speaker is performing a set of little dramas that resemble that of the speaker of the Shakespeare sonnets.  The Shakespeare sonneteer was interested only in preserving truth, beauty, and love in his creations for future generations.  

    In the course of those sonnets, especially the section known as “The Muse Sonnets,” the Shakespeare writer expresses his desire repeatedly to present only truth, beauty, and love in his works, in contrast to the slathering on of tinsel and meaningless blather sent out by non-serious artist wannabes, known as poetasters.

    The Dickinson speaker demonstrates the same proclivities, and it also becomes evident that she shows a keen ability to observe the tiniest detail in her environment.  Yet, even as she focuses on those details, her vision never lowers from her mystic sight.

    It is in that focus that Dickinson differs dramatically from the Shakespearean sonneteer.  While he reveals his devout awareness of the mystical in his life, he remains a mere observer compared to the active mysticism of the Dickinson speaker.

    Emily Dickinson’s rare ability to communicate the ineffable has earned her a place in American letters that no other literary figure in the English language has been able to outpace.

    On this wondrous sea

    On this wondrous sea
    Sailing silently,
    Ho! Pilot, ho!
    Knowest thou the shore
    Where no breakers roar —
    Where the storm is o’er?

    In the peaceful west
    Many the sails at rest —
    The anchors fast —
    Thither I pilot thee —
    Land Ho! Eternity!
    Ashore at last!

    Commentary on “On this wondrous sea”

    The whole physical world becomes an ocean on which the speaker finds herself tossed and wondering if she will ever be returned to the safety of land.

    First Movement:  The Sea as Metaphor

    The speaker begins by creating a metaphor for the physical level of being, this wide world, in which she finds herself tempest tossed and uncertain of the way to safety.  Calling this world a “wondrous sea,” she reports that she is quietly sailing upon this ocean of chaos, then suddenly she cries out: “Ho! Pilot, ho!”

    And then she demands of the pilot to know if he knows where there is safety, where there are no trials and tribulations, where one can find rest from the many upheavals and battles that continually confront each inhabitant of this world.  Upon first encountering, it may seem that the speaker is addressing some sea captain as she rides in some maritime vessel.

    But it quickly becomes apparent that the speaker is addressing the Creator of the universe, and she wants to know if the Creator of this seemingly confusing Creation knows where she can go to come out of “the storm.”  As the “sea” is a metaphor for the world, the “Pilot” is the metaphor for the Creator (or God), Who directs and leads His children through this confusing place.  

    As a pilot would steer a ship, God steers the ship of life, the ship of this world that only He has created.  Thus the speaker appeals to God for an answer to her question, is there anywhere that can offer peace to the poor soul who must navigate the churning waters of this world?

    Second Movement:  Where Peace Reigns Supreme

    In the second stanza, the speaker shifts from the supplicant to the Blessèd Creator, Who bestows on the questioner the answer to her question.  The storm is over where peace reigns supreme.  Metaphorically, the speaker chooses to locate the peaceful place in the “west,” likely to rime it with “rest.”  

    In that peaceful west, one can cease the constant struggle with the dualities of this world.  One can feel secure with “anchors fast,” unlike the constant heaving and tossing back and forth that the rough sea causes.  The sails can be lowered and remain in that position because the journey has reached its destination.

    The piloting Creator then assures His traveling, storm-tossed child that, in fact, He is taking her there as she speaks.  The words, “Thither I pilot thee,” must ring in the ears of this supplicant as a true balm of heaven, comforting her every nervous inclination; she knows that she is safe with this “Pilot,” Who knows where to take her and is piloting her there now.

    Then suddenly, the coveted land is in sight and the land is “Eternity.”  The speaker now knows she is being guided safely and surely through her life by the One, Who can take her “ashore” and keep her secure throughout eternity.  Immortality is hers and peace will be her existence in this eternal resting place where the soul resides with its Divine Over-Soul Creator.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Sic transit gloria mundi”

    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 “Sic transit gloria mundi”

    By Dickinsonian standards, “Sic transit gloria mundi” is quite long.  Its tone and subject matter vary greatly from the Dickinson persona that will be on display in the majority of her poems. 

    Introduction and Text of “Sic transit gloria mundi”

    Similar to poem #1 in Thomas H. Johnson’s The Complete Poem of Emily Dickinson, poem #3 “Sic transit gloria mundi,” stands as a rather lengthy poem by Dickinsonian standards, and it is also a Valentine, sent to William Howland, a law clerk in her father’s office.  

    This poem was published in the Springfield Republican on February 20, 1852.  Two years earlier, she had sent a Valentine message, “Awake ye muses nine,” to her father’s law partner, Elbridge Bowdoin.

    Sic transit gloria mundi

    “Sic transit gloria mundi,”
    “How doth the busy bee,”
    “Dum vivimus vivamus,”  
    I stay mine enemy! —

    Oh “veni, vidi, vici!” 
    Oh caput cap-a-pie!   
    And oh “memento mori” 
    When I am far from thee!

    Hurrah for Peter Parley!
    Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
    Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
    Who first observed the moon!

    Peter, put up the sunshine;
    Pattie, arrange the stars;
    Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
    And call your brother Mars!

    Put down the apple, Adam,
    And come away with me,
    So shalt thou have a pippin
    From off my father’s tree!

    I climb the “Hill of Science,”
    I “view the landscape o’er;”
    Such transcendental prospect,
    I ne’er beheld before!

    Unto the Legislature
    My country bids me go;
    I’ll take my india rubbers,
    In case the wind should blow!

    During my education,
    It was announced to me
    That gravitation, stumbling
    Fell from an apple tree!

    The earth upon an axis
    Was once supposed to turn,
    By way of a gymnastic
    In honor of the sun!

    It was the brave Columbus,
    A sailing o’er the tide,
    Who notified the nations
    Of where I would reside!

    Mortality is fatal—
    Gentility is fine,
    Rascality, heroic,
    Insolvency, sublime

    Our Fathers being weary,
    Laid down on Bunker Hill;
    And tho’ full many a morning,
    Yet they are sleeping still,—

    The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
    In dreams I see them rise,
    Each with a solemn musket
    A marching to the skies!

    A coward will remain, Sir,
    Until the fight is done;
    But an immortal hero
    Will take his hat, and run!

    Good bye Sir, I am going;
    My country calleth me;
    Allow me, Sir, at parting,
    To wipe my weeping e’e.

    In token of our friendship
    Accept this “Bonnie Doon,”
    And when the hand that plucked it
    Hath passed beyond the moon,

    The memory of my ashes
    Will consolation be;
    Then farewell Tuscarora,
    And farewell, Sir, to thee!

    Commentary on “Sic transit gloria mundi”

    Emily Dickinson sent her poem “Sic transit gloria mundi” as a Valentine message to William Howland, who served as a law clerk in her father’s law office.  

    First Movement:  A Fertile Mind on Display

    “Sic transit gloria mundi,”
    “How doth the busy bee,”
    “Dum vivimus vivamus,”  
    I stay mine enemy! —

    Oh “veni, vidi, vici!” 
    Oh caput cap-a-pie!   
    And oh “memento mori” 
    When I am far from thee!

    Hurrah for Peter Parley!
    Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
    Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
    Who first observed the moon!

    Peter, put up the sunshine;
    Pattie, arrange the stars;
    Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
    And call your brother Mars!

    The first stanza of the Valentine sounds like a jumble of unrelated thoughts as it begins with three allusive quotations: first, the Latin phrase, “Sic transit gloria mundi,” which translates into English as, “So passes away this world’s glory.”  

    The phrase is used in the ceremony of installing a Pope and likely originated with Thomas à Kempis’ “O quam cito transit gloria mundi” (Oh how soon passes away this world’s glory) from De Imitatione Christi (Translation to English The Imitation of Christ).

    Second, the allusion to the Isaac Watts’ poem, “How doth the little busy bee,” whose second line finishes the question: “Improve each shining hour.” 

    And third, “Dum vivimus vivamus,” translation,”while we are alive, let’s live,” which is thought to serve as an epicurean motto and was employed as a motto by the Porcellian Club at Harvard.  

    The speaker then speaks for herself for the first time in the poem and declares she will stop her enemy, a claim that will leave her listeners a bit stunned.

    But then the speaker offers a near repetition of the first stanza’s strategy with Latin phrases, along with one French phrase:  First, “Oh ‘veni, vidi, vici!’,” which is the famous declaration made by Julius Caesar after he overcame Pharnaces of Pontus in the Battle of Zela.

    Second, “Oh caput cap-a-pie!” with Latin  “the head” and French “from head-to-toe.” And then the third, “And oh “memento mori,” Latin again for “remembering I must die,” which makes much sense clamped on to the following line, “When I am far from thee!”

    Those first two stanzas of the Valentine demonstrate the varied education of the speaker; she has read and studied enough of Latin and perhaps French to be able to employ quotations from her reading.  Likely the only purpose of those quotations is to show off as she flirts with the target of the Valentine.

    The speaker then continues to demonstrate her book learning by alluding to a widely published author of the time period, who used the pseudonym, “Peter Parley.”  Parley published a wide variety of informative tracts primarily for children in the subject areas of science, art, travel, biography, and natural history and geography.

    The speaker gives a nod to the American explorer, Daniel Boone, who is most noted for having explored the state now known as Kentucky.  The speaker finally offers “three cheer” for the man who first “observed the moon.”  

    This last seeming allusion, however, is ludicrous in its assertion; thus the speaker is making a joke which puts all of her earlier allusions in question.  

    Is she really just making fun of received knowledge?   No doubt that is so.  And her true purpose, of course, is simply to flirt with a law clerk in her father’s office, who likely possesses the ability to recognize many of those allusions and thus understand her little joke.

    The final stanza in the first movement plays out in definite sarcastic hilarity, as she commands Peter to “put up the sunshine,” while Pattie must “arrange the stars,” while alerting “Luna” (the Latin term for “moon”) that tea is about to be served, and brother Mars, another heavenly body, should be called.

    Thus the speaker has set the stage for a romp through her fertile mind that she hopes will impress a young man with her vast knowledge, all acquired through book learning, thus she can make fun of it, as if she were saying, look what I can do with bit and pieces of information that has passed before my very fecund imagination!

    Second Movement:  Continuing to Allude

    Put down the apple, Adam,
    And come away with me,
    So shalt thou have a pippin
    From off my father’s tree!

    I climb the “Hill of Science,”
    I “view the landscape o’er;”
    Such transcendental prospect,
    I ne’er beheld before!

    Unto the Legislature
    My country bids me go;
    I’ll take my india rubbers,
    In case the wind should blow!

    During my education,
    It was announced to me
    That gravitation, stumbling
    Fell from an apple tree!

    In the second movement, the speaker continues her allusive jaunt, beginning with Genesis and Adam eating the metaphoric “apple.”  She tells “Adam,” whom she likely is assigning identity with Mr. Howland, the law clerk, to forsake the “apple” that he is already eating and come with her to enjoy an apple from her father’s tree.  

    That “pippin” or dessert apple, which is sweeter than ordinary apples, refers to herself; thus, she is the offering from her father’s tree that she wishes to give to the target of the Valentine.

    Next the speaker intimates that she has read Anna Lætitia Barbauld’s “The Hill of Science. A Vision,” and again offers a line from an Isaac Watt’s hymn, “There Is a Land of Pure Delight.”

    The speaker then concocts the notion that she has been called to government service, but then immediately descends into a comment about the weather.  Finally, she again makes a remark that her education has given her to believe that the man who discovered gravity, only did so because some crazy apple “stumbl[ed]” and “fell from an apple tree!”  

    It must have given her great delight to return again to the “apple” as she completed the second movement of her Valentine.

    Third Movement:  Astronomy and History

    The earth upon an axis
    Was once supposed to turn,
    By way of a gymnastic
    In honor of the sun!

    It was the brave Columbus,
    A sailing o’er the tide,
    Who notified the nations
    Of where I would reside!

    Mortality is fatal—
    Gentility is fine,
    Rascality, heroic,
    Insolvency, sublime

    Our Fathers being weary,
    Laid down on Bunker Hill;
    And tho’ full many a morning,
    Yet they are sleeping still,—

    The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
    In dreams I see them rise,
    Each with a solemn musket
    A marching to the skies!

    The speaker now turns to astronomy to report the fact that the earth rotates, an activity that earlier, she opines, was considered to honor the sun.  Of course, earthly gymnastics, she now knows, is simply a fact of a science.  The sun, only in poetic terms, can be considered to feel honored by the rotating of the earth.

    Moving on to some historical information, the speaker reports that Columbus, whom she finds to be brave, went sailing over the sea, and in doing so he let other nations know where the speaker “would reside.”

    She then lists some definitions of terms: mortality=fatal, gentility=fine.  But then she seems to go off track by stating that rascality is heroic, and insolvency is sublime.  The two latter claims likely are allusions to the financial crisis known as the Panic of 1837, which resulted in a major recession that continued into the mid-1840s.

    The speaker then continues with her nods to history, mentioning that their “Fathers” died on Bunker Hill and despite the fact morning still comes upon that hill, they remain sleeping there.  But she envisions in a dream that a trumpet wakes those fathers, who rise and march heavenward with their muskets.

    Fourth Movement:  Bizarre Claim and Failed Valentine

    A coward will remain, Sir,
    Until the fight is done;
    But an immortal hero
    Will take his hat, and run!

    Good bye Sir, I am going;
    My country calleth me;
    Allow me, Sir, at parting,
    To wipe my weeping e’e.

    In token of our friendship
    Accept this “Bonnie Doon,”
    And when the hand that plucked it
    Hath passed beyond the moon,

    The memory of my ashes
    Will consolation be;
    Then farewell Tuscarora,
    And farewell, Sir, to thee!

    In the final movement, the speaker’s opening stanza makes a bizarre claim that seems quite opposite of what tradition teaches. She asserts that it is the coward who stays and fights while those who grab their hats and run become the immortal heroes.  

    Likely, she is spoofing the notion that those who run away are more likely to remain above ground than those who remain in battle and continue to engage the enemy.

    But before the reader can place much concentration on that thought, the speaker moves quickly on again to state that she must go and perform service to her country.  She asks the target of her Valentine to permit her to shed a tear at leaving him behind.  She then states that this Valentine is a “token of our friendship.” She asks him to accept this “Bonnie doon,” alluding to Robert Burns’ “The Banks O’ Doon,” which features a lament about being left by a sweetheart.

    But the token of friendship, this “Bonnie Doon,” seems to become a flower as the speaker then asserts that once she is dead and her ashes have “passed beyond the moon,” the memory of those ashes will console the Valentine reader.  

    Then abruptly as she draws an end to her missive, by bidding farewell to “Tuscarora” and then to the target of the Valentine, calling him “Sir.”

    Remembering the playful nature of the poem makes allusions such as Tuscarora, the American Indians, who originally resided in the North Carolina area and later were admitted into the New York federation of the Iroquois, a fertile field for varied interpretations.  

    Likely, she’s referring to the country and its earlier history, but also it is likely she is being ironic as she surely is when she is bidding farewell to the recipient of the Valentine.  

    Lifelong Bachelors

    Both Valentine messages in the two poems “Awake ye muses nine” and “Sic transit gloria mundi” were serious although playful flirtations directed toward the young men to which she sent them.  

    The poet possibly hoped to engage each young man in courtship, but quite the contrary actually happened.  Both men, Elbridge Bowdoin and William Howland, remained lifelong bachelors.  And, of course, Emily never married either.

    Image: Emily Dickinson – Commemorative Stamp

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine”

    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 “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine”

    The first poem in  Thomas H. Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson is a Valentine aimed at persuading a young man to marry and is quite atypical of the poet’s style in her canon of 1,775 poems.

    Introduction with Text of “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine”

    In The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited and returned to Dickinson’s idiosyncratic style by Thomas H. Johnson, the first poem sports a whopping 40 lines of 20 riming couplets.   It is Dickinson’s longest published poem and departs in style greatly from the remaining 1,774 in the volume.

    Emily Dickinson’s “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine” begins with a traditional invocation to the muses; however, instead of displaying in  quatrains, as most of the poet’s poems do, it rests as a single lump chunk down the page.  

    The poet’s Germanic influenced capitalization of nouns and her many sprinklings of dashes are missing; yet, she does insert two dashes into the last three lines. Dickinson’s speaker addresses a young man, urging him to choose a young lady and propose marriage to her.  

    The central theme of this piece plays out in a similar manner to the Shakespeare “Marriage Sonnets,” in which the speaker is exhorting a young man to marry and produce beautiful offspring.   However, the Dickinson poem remains a playful piece focusing on the Valentine season, while the Shakespeare “Marriage Sonnets” remain quite serious in their urgency.

    Richard B. Sewall’s The Life of Emily Dickinson has asserted that the young gentleman addressed in this poem is Elbridge Bowdoin, a partner in the Dickinson father’s law firm.  

    The poet’s Valentine was sent in 1850 in a book that she was returning to Bowdoin.   The poem seems to be quite flirtatious. Bowdoin, nevertheless, did not appear to take notice. It seems he snubbed the advice in the poem by remaining a life-long bachelor.

    Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine

    Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
    Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!

    Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
    For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
    All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,
    God hath made nothing single but thee in His world so fair!
    The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,
    Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;
    The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,
    Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.
    The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,
    None cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball;
    The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,
    And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
    The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,
    And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.
    The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
    The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
    Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,
    No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.
    The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
    Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;
    Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
    And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.
    Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,
    To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:
    Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,
    Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap’st what thou hast sown.
    Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,
    And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?
    There’s Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,
    And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!
    Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see
    Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;
    Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,
    And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!
    Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,
    And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower –
    And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum –
    And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!

    Commentary on “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine”

    The first poem in Emily Dickinson’s Complete Poems is a Valentine aimed at persuading a young man to marry and is quite atypical of the poet’s style in her canon of 1,775 poems.

    First Movement:  Invocation to the Muses

    Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
    Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!

    Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
    For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.

    The ancient epics of Homer and Virgil begin with an invocation to the muse, wherein the speaker asks for guidance as he narrates his tales of adventure.   In her Valentine poem, Emily Dickinson has playfully added an invocation to all nine muses to help her with her little drama aimed at the young man for the Valentine season.

    Dickinson has her speaker command all nine muses to wake up and sing her a little ditty that she may relay to inflame her Valentine’s heart to do as she requests.  She then begins by describing how things of the earth all come in pairs.  

    One part of the pair seeks and unites with the other: the damsel is courted by the “hopeless swain” and there is whispering and sighing as a “unity” brings the “twain” together.

    Second Movement:   Earth Creatures Pair Up

    All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,
    God hath made nothing single but thee in His world so fair!
    The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,
    Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;
    The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,
    Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.
    The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,
    None cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball;
    The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,
    And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
    The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,
    And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.
    The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
    The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
    Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,
    No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.
    The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
    Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;
    Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
    And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.

    After alluding to a human pair, the speaker then narrates her observation that everything on this earth seems to be courting its mate, not only on dry land but also in the “sea, or air.”  In the next twenty or so lines, she supplies an abundant sampling of things of the earth that pair up.  

    She exaggerates for comedic affect that God has made nothing in the world “single” except for the target of her discourse, who is the young man. The speaker then tells the young man that the bride and bridegroom pair up and become one.  Adam and Eve represent the first pair, and then there is the heavenly united pair, the sun and the moon.  

    And those who follow the precept of coupling live happily, while those who avoid this natural act end up “hanged on fatal tree.”  Again, she is exaggerating for the fun of it! The speaker then assures the young man that no one who looks will not find.  After all, the earth as she has said, was “made for lovers.”  

    She then begins her catalogue of earth things that make up the two part of a unified whole:  the bee and flower marry and are celebrated by a “hundred leaves.”  In two masterful lines, the speaker creates a metaphorical and symbolic wedding of bee and flower:   “The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives, / And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves.”

    The speaker continues the catalogue of earth things that make up a unified pair:  the wind and the boughs, the storm and the seashore, the wave and the moon, night and day.  

    She sprinkles in references to the human realm with such lines as, “the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son,” “The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,” and “Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true.”

    With the line regarding the worm wooing the mortal, the speaker, similar to the Shakespearean speaker, is reminding her target that life on this planet does not last forever, and each human physical encasement is subject to death and decay.   It is because of this plight that she is urging the young man not to allow his life to speed by without fulfilling his duty as part of a unified couple.

    Third Movement:  Thus It Follows That

    Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,
    To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:
    Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,
    Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap’st what thou hast sown.
    Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,
    And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?

    Now, the speaker announces what has to happen because of her description of  the way life goes “on this terrestrial ball.”  The single man must be brought to justice.    The speaker then remarks bluntly, “Thou art a human solo,” along with a melancholy description of unhappiness that being alone can bring.  She rhetorically asks if he does not spend many hours and sad minutes of reflecting on this situation.

    Of course, she is implying that she knows he does wallow in this sorrowful state, and thus she has the antidote for eliminating all the miserable melancholy.  She will turn his melancholic “wailing” back into “song.”  If only he will follow her sage advice, he will become the happy soul he wishes to be.

    Fourth Movement:   A Shakespearean Command

    There’s Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,
    And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!
    Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see
    Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;
    Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,
    And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!
    Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,
    And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower —
    And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum —
    And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!

    The speaker now names six young damsels—Sarah, Eliza, Emeline, Harriet, and Susan; she refers to the sixth young damsel—herself—without naming her, only that she is “she with curling hair.”  

    The speaker opines that any one of these young ladies is fit to become a valuable partner for her solo, sad, single young man. The speaker commands the young bachelor to choose one and take her home to be his wife.  

    In order to make that demand, she creates a little drama by having the ladies situated up in a tree. She commands the young man to climb the tree boldly but with caution, paying no attention to “space, or time.”

    The young man then is to select his love and run off to the forest and build her a “bower” and lavish upon her what she wishes, “jewel, or bird, or flower.”  After a wedding of much music and dancing, he and his bride will flit away in glory as they head home.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Winter is good – his Hoar Delights”

    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 “Winter is good – his Hoar Delights”

    For Emily Dickinson, the seasons offered ample opportunities for verse creation, and her love for all of the seasons is quite evident in her poems.  However, her poetic dramas become especially deep and profound in her winter poems.

    First Winter Poem: “Winter is good – his Hoar Delights”

    Emily Dickinson creates speakers who are every bit as a tricky as Robert Frost’s tricky speakers. Her two-stanza, eight-line lyric announcing, “Winter is good” attests to the poet’s skill of seemingly praising while showing disdain in the same breath.

    The rime scheme of “Winter is good – his Hoar Delights” enforces the slant rime predilection with the ABAB approximation in each stanza.  All of the rimes are near or  slant in the first stanza, while the second boasts a perfect rime in Rose/goes.

    Winter is good – his Hoar Delights

    Winter is good – his Hoar Delights
    Italic flavor yield –
    To Intellects inebriate
    With Summer, or the World –

    Generic as a Quarry
    And hearty – as a Rose –
    Invited with Asperity
    But welcome when he goes.

    Commentary on “Winter is good – his Hoar Delights”

    Emily Dickinson loved all of the seasons, and she found them inspiringly colorful in their many differing attributes.  These seasonal characteristics gave this observant poet much material for her creative little dramas.

    First Stanza: Winter’s Buried Charms

    Winter is good – his Hoar Delights
    Italic flavor yield –
    To Intellects inebriate
    With Summer, or the World –

    The speaker claims rather blandly that “Winter is good” but quickly adds not so plainly that his frost is delightful. That winter’s frost would delight one, however, depends on the individual’s ability to achieve a level of drunkenness with “Summer” or “the World.” 

    For those who fancy summer and become “inebriat[ed]” with the warm season’s charms, winter takes some digging to unearth its buried charm.  And the speaker knows that most folks will never bother to attempt to find anything charming about the season they least favor.

    But those frozen frosts will “yield” their “Italic flavor” to those who are perceptive and desirous enough to pursue any “Delights” that may be held there.  The warmth of the Italian climate renders the summer flavors a madness held in check by an other-worldliness provided by the northern climes.

    The speaker’s knowledge of the climate of Italy need be only superficial to assist in making the implications this speaker makes.  Becoming drunk with winter, therefore, is a very different sport from finding oneself inebriated with summer, which can be, especially with Dickinson, akin to spiritual intoxication.

    Second Stanza: Repository of Fine Qualities

    Generic as a Quarry
    And hearty – as a Rose –
    Invited with Asperity
    But welcome when he goes.

    Nevertheless, the speaker, before her hard-hitting yet softly-applied critique, makes it clear that winter holds much to be honored; after all, the season is “Generic as a Quarry / And hearty – as a Rose.”  It generates enough genuine qualities to be considered a repository like a stone quarry that can be mined for all types of valuable rocks, gems, and granite.

    The season is “hearty” in the same manner that a lovely flower is “hearty.” The rose, although it can be a fickle and finicky plant to cultivate, provides a strength of beauty that rivals other blossoms.    That the freezing season is replete with beauty and its motivating natural elements render it a fertile time for the fertile mind of the poet.

    But despite the useful and luxuriant possibilities of winter, even the mind that is perceptive enough to appreciate its magnanimity has to be relieved when that frozen season leaves the premises or as the speaker so refreshingly puts it, he is “welcome when he goes.” The paradox of being “welcome” when “he goes” offers an apt conclusion to this tongue-in-cheek, left-handed praise of the coldest season.  

    The speaker leaves the reader assured that although she recognizes and even loves winter, she can well do without his more stark realities as she welcomes spring and welcomes saying good-bye to the winter months.

    Full 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 “Joy to have merited the Pain”

    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 “Joy to have merited the Pain”

    Emily Dickinson’s speaker declares then elucidates her declaration that having seriously earned, or “merited” pain, is a marvelous, soul-enriching experience, leading to ultimate liberation into Spirit. 

    Introduction and Text of “Joy to have merited the Pain”

    On first reflection, it is unlikely that the notion of earned pain is ever welcome to the human mind and heart or that any pain can ever be accepted.  But on second thought and possibly after some delving into the nature of Spirit and Its relationship to a fallen world, the idea becomes well founded and completely comprehensible.

    The mind and heart crave pure solace but find achieving that exalted state fraught with obstructions.  This speaker offers her hard won experience with that journey as she dramatizes the thrill of seeking and the ultimate winning of that goal.  Her mystical proclivities enhance her skills as she offers consolation on every level of spiritual awareness.

    Joy to have merited the Pain

    Joy to have merited the Pain–
    To merit the Release–
    Joy to have perished every step–
    To Compass Paradise–

    Pardon–to look upon thy face–
    With these old fashioned Eyes–
    Better than new–could be–for that–
    Though bought in Paradise–

    Because they looked on thee before–
    And thou hast looked on them–
    Prove Me–My Hazel Witnesses
    The features are the same–

    So fleet thou wert, when present–
    So infinite–when gone–
    An Orient’s Apparition–
    Remanded of the Morn–

    The Height I recollect–
    ‘Twas even with the Hills–
    The Depth upon my Soul was notched–
    As Floods–on Whites of Wheels–

    To Haunt–till Time have dropped
    His last Decade away,
    And Haunting actualize–to last
    At least–Eternity–

    Commentary on “Joy to have merited the Pain”

    Emily Dickinson’s speaker announces and then elucidates her declaration that the act of having earned (“merited”) pain, is a marvelous, soul-enriching experience, which leads ultimately to liberation into Spirit.

    Stanza 1:  Joy Eliminates Pain

    Joy to have merited the Pain–
    To merit the Release–
    Joy to have perished every step–
    To Compass Paradise–

    The speaker is affirming that earned pain fades into joy.  It gains a vivid, long liberation of the soul.  At every step of the transitioning process from lack of vision to full sight, the joy seems to dissolve the soul in a marvelous unity–Spirit and soul becoming one.

    Of course, the individual soul and the Over-Soul are always locked in an unbreakable unity, but the curse of delusion or Maya placed on a fallen world renders the human mind incapable of comprehending that unity until it regains that vision through inner stillness and concentration.  

    The burden of living in a fallen world weighs heavy on each perfect soul, situated in a physical encasement and a mental body that remain in a state of perdition, neither comprehending its perfection, nor for some even being intellectually aware that it possesses such perfection.  Paradise will remain on the horizon, though, until the seeker takes notice and begins that journey toward its goal.

    Stanza 2:  The Ephemeral Becomes Concrete

    Pardon–to look upon thy face–
    With these old fashioned Eyes–
    Better than new–could be–for that–
    Though bought in Paradise–

    The speaker now affirms that she has become aware of her eyes growing strong, after she has been absolved from certain errors of thought and behavior. She is now capable of peering into the ancient eye with her own “old fashioned eyes.” 

    The speaker’s transformation has improved her ability to discern certain worldly ways, and she will not long brook those wrong manners that limit her ability to adopt new spiritual steps.

    The speaker is becoming aware that she can realize perfectly, that Paradise can become and remain a tangible place.  That seemingly ephemeral place can become as concrete as the streets of the city, or the hills of the country.

    Stanza 3:  From Dim Glimpses of the Past

    Because they looked on thee before–
    And thou hast looked on them–
    Prove Me–My Hazel Witnesses
    The features are the same–

    The speaker confirms that she has, in fact, in the dim past glimpsed the face of the Divine Reality, and that glimpse has already atoned for the fallen state, in which she now finds herself.

    She has now become completely in possession of the knowledge that her “Hazel” eyes were, in fact, witnesses to the great unity for which she now urgently seeks reentry.  The sacred sight of the Divine Seer and the practicing, advancing devotee are one and the same.

    This knowledge delights the speaker who has already admitted that it was indeed “Pain” that nudged her on to seeking final relief.   The human heart and mind crave on every level of being the final elimination of both physical and mental pain and suffering. When a soul finds itself transitioning from the fallen world to the uplifted world of “Paradise,” it can do no less than sing praises of worship.

    Stanza 4:  The Consummation of the Infinite

    So fleet thou wert, when present–
    So infinite–when gone–
    An Orient’s Apparition–vRemanded of the Morn–

    The speaker avers that the Divine Belovèd forever consumes all time, as It continues to remain infinitely present.  The Blessèd One never strays, though Its creation may stray far and wide.

    Just as the sun rises in the East to explain morning to the day, the rising from having fallen provides a soothing balm of gladness to the human heart and mind living under a cloud of doubt and fear.  

    Each soul that has earned its liberation through great pain can offer testimony to the sanctity of having regained the “Paradise” that was lost, despite the temporary nature of all that went before.

    Stanza 5:  Highest Level of Awareness

    The Height I recollect–
    ‘Twas even with the Hills–
    The Depth upon my Soul was notched–
    As Floods–on Whites of Wheels–

    The speaker now reveals that she has evoked the highest level of awareness, that is, she has determined that she will pursue the ultimate range of vision.  She compares the highest sight to the “Hills,” finding that they are “even.”  And the valley below that had “notched” her soul seemed to flood her consciousness, as water does as it splashes upon the wheels of a carriage.

    Still the speaker is aware that her own voice can speak inside the darkest shadow that earth life has to reflect.  She determines not only to be a spectator of events but to fully interact with all that might bring her closer to her goal.

    This observant speaker knows that she has the ability to comprehend the nature of fallen earth creations, but she also continues to be stung by the facile observations that only limit each soul and denigrate each thought that would seek to alleviate the misery and tainted status of the fallen mind.

    Stanza 6:  Transcending Space and Time

    To Haunt–till Time have dropped
    His last Decade away,
    And Haunting actualize–to last
    At least–Eternity–

    The speaker continues her effort to transcend spiritually all space and time.  Each year drops eternally into the ghost-day and feather-night.  And, of course, they all are on their individual journeys through  that space and time.

    The speaker has taken the task of “Haunting” all the unselfrealized minds and hearts that cross her path, whether by night or day.  As the decades speed by, she intends to ride each moment into the utmost reality until it yields that creature whose head is toward eternity, like those horses in, “Because I could not stop for Death.”

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I had a guinea golden”

    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “I had a guinea golden” is expressing melancholy at the loss of a friend, whom she describes metaphorically in terms of three dear objects: a guinea, a robin, and a star.

    Introduction with Text of “I had a guinea golden”

    This fascinating Emily Dickinson poem of loss offers quite a tricky subversion of thought.  The first three stanzas seem to explain the loss of three separate loved ones. 
    Then the final stanza packs a wallop unloading on only one “missing friend,” who has caused the speaker to create this “mournful ditty” with tears in her eyes.

    This poem demonstrates the depth of Dickinson’s education as she employs metaphors of the British coinage system and allusions to Greek mythology, which has been further employed by the science of astronomy to name stars. 

    Not only did Dickinson study widely in many subject areas, she possessed the ability to employ her learning in creative ways to fashion those beautiful flowers, allowing them to grow in her garden of verse.

    I had a guinea golden

    I had a guinea golden –
    I lost it in the sand –
    And tho’ the sum was simple
    And pounds were in the land –
    Still, had it such a value
    Unto my frugal eye –
    That when I could not find it –
    I sat me down to sigh.

    I had a crimson Robin –
    Who sang full many a day
    But when the woods were painted,
    He, too, did fly away –
    Time brought me other Robins –
    Their ballads were the same –
    Still, for my missing Troubador
    I kept the “house at hame.”

    I had a star in heaven –
    One “Pleiad” was its name –
    And when I was not heeding,
    It wandered from the same.
    And tho’ the skies are crowded –
    And all the night ashine –
    I do not care about it –
    Since none of them are mine.

    My story has a moral –
    I have a missing friend –
    “Pleiad” its name, and Robin,
    And guinea in the sand.
    And when this mournful ditty
    Accompanied with tear –
    Shall meet the eye of traitor
    In country far from here –
    Grant that repentance solemn
    May seize upon his mind –
    And he no consolation
    Beneath the sun may find.

    Reading 

    Commentary on “I had a guinea golden”

    Each stanza builds to a magnificent crescendo of outrage that allows the speaker to lavish affection as well as harsh rebuke to the one leaving her in a state of melancholy.

    First Stanza:  The Value of Small Things

    I had a guinea golden –
    I lost it in the sand –
    And tho’ the sum was simple
    And pounds were in the land –
    Still, had it such a value
    Unto my frugal eye –
    That when I could not find it –
    I sat me down to sigh.

    The speaker begins by referring to the coin “guinea,” which was a British coin manufactured with the gold from the African nation of Guinea.  The coin was worth 21 shillings and ceased circulating in 1813.   The speaker maintains the British monetary metaphor by referring also to “pounds” in the fourth line of the poem.

    Metaphorically, the speaker is calling her lost friend a “golden” coin, which she lost “in the sand.”  She then admits that it was a small loss for much more valuable moneys—”pounds”—were all about her.   Nevertheless, to her, because of her frugality, the value of the small coin was huge, and because it was lost to her, she just “sat down to sigh.”

    Second Stanza:  Missing the Music

    I had a crimson Robin –
    Who sang full many a day
    But when the woods were painted,
    He, too, did fly away –
    Time brought me other Robins –
    Their ballads were the same –
    Still, for my missing Troubador
    I kept the “house at hame.”

    The speaker then employs the metaphor of “crimson Robin.”  This time she is likening her friend to the singing robin who “sang full many a day.”  But when the autumn of the year came around, she loses this friend also.

    Just as other moneys were abounding after the loss of a simple guinea, other robins presented themselves to the speaker after she lost her robin.  But even though they sang the same songs as her lost robin, it just was not the same for the speaker.   She continues to mourn the loss of her robin; thus she kept herself harnessed to her house, likely in case her own robin should show up again.

    Third Stanza:  The Mythology of Science

    I had a star in heaven –
    One “Pleiad” was its name –
    And when I was not heeding,
    It wandered from the same.
    And tho’ the skies are crowded –
    And all the night ashine –
    I do not care about it –
    Since none of them are mine.

    The speaker then finds herself once again mourning the loss of a loved one.  This one she labels “Pleiad.”  Pleiad is an allusion to Greek mythology but also a reference to astronomy.  

    In Greek mythology, the seven daughters of Atlas went into hiding up in the sky among the stars to escape being pursued by Orion.  One the seven seems to disappear perhaps out of shame or grief.  

    In the science of astronomy, the constellation known as Taurus features a group of seven stars, but oddly enough only six can be seen, resulting in the same “Lost Pleiad” as exists in the Greek myth.

    Dickinson, who studied widely the subjects of mythology, history, and science thus alludes to the myth of the “Lost Pleiad” to again elucidate the nature of her third lost beloved.   She has now experienced the loss of money, a bird, and now a star–each more precious than the last.

    The speaker loses the star as she was being heedless–not paying attention.  In her negligent state, her star wanders away from her.  Again, although the sky is full of other stars, they just don’t measure up because “none of them are mine.”

    Fourth Stanza:  Admonishing a Traitor

    My story has a moral –
    I have a missing friend –
    “Pleiad” its name, and Robin,
    And guinea in the sand.
    And when this mournful ditty
    Accompanied with tear –
    Shall meet the eye of traitor
    In country far from here –
    Grant that repentance solemn
    May seize upon his mind –
    And he no consolation
    Beneath the sun may find.

    While wildly famous for her riddles, Dickinson often breaks the riddle’s force by actually naming the object described.  In the final stanza, she blatantly confesses that her little story “has a moral.”  She then blurts out, “I have a missing friend.”  

    It is now that the reader understands the loss is not three different loved ones, but only one.  She has thus been describing that “missing friend” using three different metaphoric images.

    Now, however, she has a message for this friend whose description has revealed multiple times how much she misses the friend and laments the loss.   After again rather baldly admitting her sorrow told in “this mournful ditty” and even “[a]ccompanied with tear,” she refers to that missing friend as a “traitor.”

    If this friend who has betrayed her happens to see this “mournful ditty,” she hopes that it will grab that individual’s mind so that the person will experience “repentance solemn.”  Furthermore, she wishes that the friend be unable to find any solace for the individual’s contrition no matter where that friend goes.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society”

    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 “The Soul selects her own Society”

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society” portrays the nature of individual self-sufficiency, spiritual power, and the deliberate choice of isolation over social engagement.  The result is a positive statement that the strength of the soul remains ascendent, despite a world of chaos.

    Introduction and Text of “The Soul selects her own Society”

    In only three innovative quatrains, Emily Dickinson’s poem, “The Soul selects her own Society,” reveals the power of the soul’s skill in selecting its companions and rejecting external influences.  

    This profound theme is one of many that similarly focus on issues of individuality in Dickinson’s 1775 span of poems. The poet grappled with questions of personal autonomy and the inner life by creating speakers who address those inquiries in unique, strong voices.

    Emily Dickinson’s themes, poetic techniques, as well as the cultural and philosophical contexts that inform her poems all lend heft to the notion that the poet remained steadfast in her determination to live deliberately and independently.

    The claims that Dickinson’s speaker makes about the soul’s choices illuminate this poem’s celebration of individuality, and those claims offer a subtle critique of societal pressures. This important theme can be found in a number of Dickinson’s poems. The poet continued to create speakers who share her love of privacy.

    The Soul selects her own Society –

    The Soul selects her own Society –
    Then – shuts the Door –
    To her divine Majority –
    Present no more –

    Unmoved – she notes the Chariots – pausing –
    At her low Gate –
    Unmoved – an Emperor be kneeling
    Upon her Mat –

    I’ve known her – from an ample nation –
    Choose One –
    Then – close the Valves of her attention –
    Like Stone –

    Commentary on “The Soul selects her own Society”

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society” stands as the emblematic poem for not only the poet’s entire oeuvre but also for her life choice of isolation as well.  She continued to create speakers, whose voices remain strong and unique.  Her elliptical, minimalist expressions demonstrate an economy of language use seldom experienced to such a high degree.

    First Stanza: The Soul’s Decision

    The Soul selects her own Society –
    Then – shuts the Door –
    To her divine Majority –
    Present no more –

    The first stanza establishes the soul’s autonomy and power as the target of the poem. Dickinson’s speaker is personifying the soul as a feminine being, a choice that comports with her frequent portrayal of the self as an introspective consciousness. 

    The verb “selects” remains essential in distinguishing a deliberate act of choice. Unlike passive acceptance or arbitrary selection, the soul’s decision to choose its “Society” reflects a profound exercise of individual agency and strength. 

    The capitalization of “Soul” and “Society” ennobles these terms, attesting to spiritual and metaphysical power.  “Society” indicates a selected group of companions that the soul deems worthy of its attention.

    The second line, “Then – shuts the Door,” introduces an intense metaphor of exclusion. The act of shutting the door symbolizes the rejection of all that lies outside the soul’s chosen circle. 

    This exclusionary image invokes both physical and psychological barriers, making clear that the soul’s decision is not merely a preference but instead remains a absolute act of isolation. 

    The door, a boundary between the inner and outer worlds, becomes an instrument of both inclusion and exclusion, emphasizing the soul’s desire for control over its environment.

    The phrase “divine Majority” in the third line refers to a spiritual unity, such as a divine assembly representing the will of a Higher Power, and the soul accepts that “Majority” and its divinity as evidence of its own affirmative judgment. 

    The “divine Majority” also includes tangentially certain members of the broader societal collective–family and friends–on the earth plane, implying that the soul dismisses the opinions or expectations of the masses but accepts willingly and graciously all those who understand and respect the choices of the speaker.   

    The adjective “divine” imbues this majority with a sacred quality that it must possess, if the speaker is to sanction it.  The final line, “Present no more,” reinforces the irrevocability of this decision. The soul’s chosen society is now its sole focus, and all others are rendered absent, both physically and metaphysically.

    Interestingly, the word “present” can be interpreted as either an adjective or a verb, but either interpretation results in the same meaning of the phrase in this context.  As a verb, it is a command, “Offer no more suggestions for my perusal.”   As an adjective, the speaker is making the simple statement that other than her chosen “divine Majority,” no further admittance is allowed; her group remains complete.

    Dickinson’s use of her liberal spray of dashes throughout the stanza creates a spacing  rhythm, mirroring the deliberate and measured nature of the soul’s actions. These pauses invite readers or listeners to linger on each phrase, reflecting the weight of the soul’s choices. 

    The stanza’s brevity and syntactic compression further enhance its impact, distilling complex ideas into a few carefully chosen words. By framing the soul’s selection as both an act of inclusion and exclusion, the speaker has set the stage for the poem’s expression of individualism and its consequences.

    Second Stanza: Resisting External Influence

    Unmoved – she notes the Chariots – pausing –
    At her low Gate –
    Unmoved – an Emperor be kneeling
    Upon her Mat –

    The second stanza shifts its focus from it affirmative declaration to the soul’s unwavering stance in the face of external temptations, reinforcing the theme of absolute individual sovereignty. 

    The repetition of “Unmoved” at the beginning of the first and third lines serves as a rhetorical anchor, emphasizing the soul’s emotional detachment and unchanging resolve. 

    This word choice suggests not only indifference but also a deliberate refusal to be swayed by external grandeur or authority. The soul’s ability to remain “unmoved” underscores its inner strength, positioning it as a self-sustaining entity invulnerable to worldly, earthly allure.

    The imagery of “Chariots – pausing – / At her low Gate” heralds a scene of pomp and power, seeking entry. Chariots, often associated with military might or royal processions, symbolize societal prestige and influence. 

    This chariots pausing at the soul’s “low Gate” creates a striking contrast between the grandeur of the material world-at-large and the humility of the soul’s inner mystical domain. 

    The adjective “low” suggests simplicity and humility—qualities that perfectly align with Dickinson’s speakers’ recurring portrayal of the self as unpretentious yet profoundly self-aware.  The gate, like the door in the first stanza, functions as a boundary, reinforcing the soul’s control over who may enter its realm.

    The second image of “an Emperor be kneeling / Upon her Mat” magnifies this contrast. The emperor, a figure of supreme authority, is portrayed in a position of supplication—”kneeling” on the soul’s humble mat. 

    This inversion of power dynamics is astonishing: the soul—humble, modest, and tranquil—commands the respect of even the most powerful figures.  The mat, a simple household item, further emphasizes  the soul’s unassuming nature, yet its presence in this context elevates it to a symbol of the soul’s complete sovereignty. 

    The emperor’s kneeling suggests not only deference but also a recognition of the soul’s authority, which transcends all worldly hierarchies. Dickinson’s traditional, abundant splash of dashes in this stanza furthers the pauses, mirroring the soul’s contemplative resistance. Each dash invites the reader to pause and consider the significance of the soul’s indifference to such potent symbols of power. 

    The stanza’s structure, with its parallel clauses beginning with “Unmoved,” reinforces the soul’s consistency and resolve. By juxtaposing the soul’s simplicity with the grandeur of chariots and emperors, the speaker celebrates the power of inner conviction over external splendor, a theme that resonates with the Dickinsonian broader critique of societal conformity.

    Third Stanza: The Final Choice

    I’ve known her – from an ample nation –
    Choose One –
    Then – close the Valves of her attention –
    Like Stone –

    The third stanza shifts to a personal perspective, as the speaker reveals intimate knowledge of the soul’s behavior with the phrase “I’ve known her.” This shift to the first person opens up her deep familiarity, confirming the speaker’s own experience as one who often chooses solitude over societal engagement. 

    The phrase “from an ample nation” implies a vast array of potential companions, whether individuals, ideas, or influences. The word “ample” denotes abundance, yet the soul’s choice is singular and exclusive, as it selects only “One.”  This act of choosing remains both deliberate as well as reductive, narrowing the soul’s focus to a single entity or ideal.

    The metaphor of closing “the Valves of her attention” is particularly salient. The term “Valves” introduces a mechanical image, indicating a controlled and deliberate mechanism for regulating attention.  Unlike the organic imagery of doors or gates, valves imply precision and finality, as if the soul is sealing off its consciousness with mechanical efficacy. 

    The simile, “Like Stone,” further emphasizes this irrevocability, vouchsafing an unyielding, determined state. Stone is nearly immutable and enduring, indicating that the soul’s decision is permanent and secure against change.  This image also carries a sense of weight and stillness, contrasting with the dynamic imagery of chariots and emperors in the previous stanza.

    The stanza’s brevity enhances its impact, as each line dramatically builds toward the final, evocative image of stone. The dashes keep their rhythm punctuating the lines, creating the important pauses that reflect the gravity of the soul’s withdrawal. 

    By framing the soul’s choice as selective—inclusive as well as exclusive—the speaker emphasizes the result of such individual autonomy: the soul expresses its sovereignty, and the less important connection with the broader world is exposed and laid to rest. 

    A Resolute Act of Agency

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Soul selects her own Society” is a masterful exploration of individuality, autonomy, and the consequences of deliberate isolation. Through its three quatrains, the poem traces the soul’s journey from selection to rejection to final withdrawal, each stage completed by a resolute act of agency. 

    The first stanza establishes the soul’s sovereignty through its careful selection of companions, while the second illustrates its resistance to external temptations, and the third underscores the finality of its withdrawal. 

    Dickinson’s use of vivid imagery–doors, gates, chariots, emperors, valves, and stone–creates a rich tapestry of meaning, inviting readers to contemplate the power and cost of personal choice.  The poem’s formal elements, including its concise structure, halting rhythm, and strategic use of dashes, enhance its thematic depth. 

    The dashes, in particular, serve as a stylistic hallmark, creating pauses that mirror the soul’s contemplative resolve and invite readers to engage with the text on a deeper level.

    The capitalization of key terms, such as “Soul,” “Society,” and “Majority,” imbues them with metaphysical significance, elevating the poem’s exploration of individuality to a universal plane.

    Contextually, the poem reflects Dickinson’s own life as a poet who chose solitude over societal engagement. Living in Amherst, Massachusetts, Dickinson maintained a reclusive lifestyle, corresponding with a select few while withdrawing from public life.  This personal context informs the poem’s celebration of inner conviction, as well as its acknowledgment of the isolation that such conviction entails. 

    Philosophically, the poem aligns with transcendentalist ideas of self-reliance, as espoused by contemporaries like Ralph Waldo Emerson, though Dickinson’s perspective is more introspective and less optimistic about the individual’s connection to the broader world.

    Ultimately, “The Soul selects her own Society” is a testament to Dickinson’s ability to distill complex ideas into concise, evocative verse. The poem invites readers to reflect on the nature of choice, the value of autonomy, and the delicate balance between connection and solitude. 

    By portraying the soul as a sovereign entity capable of shaping its own destiny, Dickinson’s speaker has affirmed the power of individuality while acknowledging the profound solitude that accompanies such freedom.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “All these my banners be”

    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 “All these my banners be”

    The speaker celebrates the beauty of wildflowers, which metaphorically represent their mystical counterpart in the spiritual garden, created by the speaker’s powerful and fertile imagination.

    Introduction with Text of “All these my banners be”

    Like a garden or landscape imbued with numerous colorful wildflowers, the poetic garden that Emily Dickinson’s speaker is creating holds all of the poet’s numerous, colorful poems.  She celebrates those natural wildflowers as she showcases the permanence of her own creations.

    This speaker, like the Shakespearean speaker, has planted her flag in the ever-existing land of creativity.  In that special spiritual garden, she can plant any flower she chooses and in places where she knows they will continue to shed their perfume to noses and their beauty to eyes, as well as their music to ears.

    All these my banners be

    All these my banners be.
    I sow my pageantry
    In May –
    It rises train by train –
    Then sleeps in state again –
    My chancel – all the plain
    Today.

    To lose – if one can find again –
    To miss – if one shall meet –
    The Burglar cannot rob – then –
    The Broker cannot cheat.
    So build the hillocks gaily
    Thou little spade of mine
    Leaving nooks for Daisy
    And for Columbine –
    You and I the secret
    Of the Crocus know –
    Let us chant it softly –
    “There is no more snow!”

    To him who keeps an Orchis’ heart –
    The swamps are pink with June.

    Reading of “All these my banners be” 

    Commentary on “All these my banners be”

    The speaker is celebrating her spiritual garden of verse, wherein like the beauty of literal wildflowers, the beauty of her poems retain the delicious ability to remain ever existing.

    First Stanza:  Planting Flags of Sacred Beauty

    All these my banners be.
    I sow my pageantry
    In May –
    It rises train by train –
    Then sleeps in state again –
    My chancel – all the plain
    Today.

    On the literal level, the speaker is celebrating wildflowers, claiming them as her nation or state, and implying that she is planting them as one would plant a flag to possess a territory or mark the discovery of some formerly distant land. 

    One may be put in mind of the moon-landing at which time the American astronauts planted the flag of the USA on the moon. Thus, she begins by asserting that all of these flowers are her “banners” or flags.  

    Interestingly, there is a type of Daylily that sports the nickname “Grand Old Flag,” or as my mother referred to them as “Flags.”  These wildflowers grow abundantly along rivers, old country roads, and even along busy highways.  They are quite hardy, so hardy, in fact, that some folks actually disdain their presence and seek to halt their spreading abundance.

    This speaker adores her expanse of wildflowers.  After claiming them as her “banners,” she claims that she is sowing these, her “pageantry,” in the late spring month of May. She colorfully reports that they come shooting up through the earth like trains with a long string of cars that continue to move until they “sleep in state again” or halt from their journey.  

    The speaker then remarks that this bannered, colorful, and divine expanse of land—”all the land”—is her “chancel” today.  Her love and devotion rise to the spiritual level as she calls that “land” metaphorically a “chancel.”

    Second Stanza:  Creating a Mystical Garden

    To lose – if one can find again –
    To miss – if one shall meet –
    The Burglar cannot rob – then –
    The Broker cannot cheat.
    So build the hillocks gaily
    Thou little spade of mine
    Leaving nooks for Daisy
    And for Columbine –
    You and I the secret
    Of the Crocus know –
    Let us chant it softly –
    “There is no more snow!”

    As she eases into the metaphoric level, the speaker first waxes philosophical about losing and missing things—a state of consciousness that refers to the changing of the seasons.

    Seasons with their abundant lush growth on the landscape are routinely followed by seasons in which no growth occurs, and the observer then finds she has lost something that she misses.  

    It remains the duty of this highly creative and talented speaker to eliminate all those pesky periods of losing, and she can do that metaphorically by creating her own sacred, spiritual garden filled with the flowers that are her poems.  

    In her mystically created garden, no “Burglar” can “rob,” and no “Broker” can “cheat.”  Thus, the various flowers named in the stanza stand both for themselves as well as serving as a metaphoric flower representing her poems. 

    The speaker then commands her poetic ability, represented metonymically by the “little spade” which becomes a symbol for her writing, to “build the hillock gaily” or get on with creating these marvelous little dramas that keep her enthralled.  

    That “little spade” carves out “nooks for Daisy” and “for Columbine”—a colorful, fascinating way of asserting that her writing ability produces poems that stand as strong, colorful, and divinely beautiful as those flowers that she names—”Daisy” and “Columbine.”

    The speaker intimates to her “little spade” that they two are privy to the same secret known by “the Crocus,” and she insists that they “chant it softly” in that delicious atmosphere in which “There is no more snow!”  

    The speaker would desire “no more snow” for the simple reason that literal flowers do not spring up in winter.  Thus, she is robbed of their beauty, and she misses them.  And thus the “no more snow” season for her writing has the power to encompass all the seasons, wherein those objects of beauty can continue to grow and flourish and provide beauty.

    Third Stanza:  Perpetual June

    To him who keeps an Orchis’ heart –
    The swamps are pink with June.

    The speaker then again waxes philosophical about her spiritual garden of flowers.  It is an attitude that prevails to cause one to be able to accept the mystical level of being as more alluring and even more beautiful than the physical level that points to it.  

    As the physical level of being, which is created out of atoms and molecules, contains beauty but that beauty fades and is never permanent, the mystical level, which is created out of inextinguishable light, can remain eternally.  

    For the earth-bound human being, the concept of and desire for things to exist eternally remain instilled in the heart, mind, and soul.  For the mystically inclined individual, the “swamps” remain eternally “pink” as though it were always “June.”

    In other words, the individual steeped in spiritual, mystic ardor and filled with creative juices needs only to create a spiritual garden—mystical world—in which permanence does reign eternally.

    Video:  Orange Daylily