My soul goes on spreading across this land. Across the sea, my boundless soul goes on Expanding beyond this earth, Beyond the moon and sun— Frolicking from planet to planet Nipping off rays from heavenly bodies, Sipping dew-drops of celestial wine From the myriad goblet-stars.
Across the sky, my soul melts and stretches, Frozen no more in this little body, Frozen no more in this caged mind, Frozen no more, this soul expands Throughout Infinity, throughout Eternity In Bliss! Bliss! Ever more Bliss!
A slightly different version of this poem appears in my collection Singing in Soul Silence: Voices of Faith. The original last line was “In joy, joy, ever more joy!”
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 “She slept beneath a tree” and “It’s all I have to bring today”
These two Dickinson poems seem to grow out of a singular event on a certain day, likely in early spring, when nature is waking up bringing its flowered and bird-song beauty to the eyes and ears. No one is better prepared to report on that beauty than Emily Dickinson.
Introduction and Text of “She slept beneath a tree” and “It’s all I have to bring today”
The first installment of this mini-series, “She slept beneath a tree,” offers up one of those famous Dickinson riddles. She only describes her subject but never names it, leaving that up to her readers to guess.
The second installment, “It’s all I have to bring today,” sounds almost as if she is offering a continuation of the first offering. One can imagine that the “it” in the first line refers to the subject of the “She slept beneath a tree.” It offers an interesting contrast to read the second in tandem with the first as opposed to reading it as standing alone.
Thomas H. Johnson returned Emily Dickinson’s poems to a closer facsimile of their original. Other editors of Dickinson had given her poems titles and regularized her idiosyncratic style, such as the liberal spray of dashes, capitalizations, and many other grammatical ellipses.
In an earlier edition of the Dickinson poems, “She slept beneath a tree” was given the title “The Tulip.” Dickinson would not have approved of this titling, because the poem is one of her obvious riddles, which leaves the subject of the poem up to the reader to suss out.
The reading of the poem in the video below uses the mistitled version of the poem; still the sense of the piece can be appreciated by the reading, even though the printed form of the poem varies from the Johnson version, which offers Emily’s original and intended style.
She slept beneath a tree
She slept beneath a tree – Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute – She recognized the foot – Put on her carmine suit And see!
Reading of “She slept beneath a tree”
It’s all I have to bring today
It’s all I have to bring today – This, and my heart beside – This, and my heart, and all the fields – And all the meadows wide – Be sure you count – should I forget Some one the sum could tell – This, and my heart, and all the Bees Which in the Clover dwell.
Reading of “It’s all I have to bring today”
Commentary on “She slept beneath a tree”
This riddle poem “She slept beneath a tree” remains mysteriously vague, as the speaker plays with the reader’s sensibilities. While the subject of the riddle might be interesting, more important is the effect that child of nature has on the speaker.
First Movement: A Riddle
She slept beneath a tree – Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute –
The speaker reports that the subject of her riddle had been sleeping at the foot of tree. No one had remembered or taken note of the subject except for the speaker, who visits the subject and “touched her Cradle.” The cradle was mute or perhaps it was the speaker who remained mute. By allowing the ambiguity, the speaker amplifies the impact of the riddle.
Second Movement: Remarkable Claim
She recognized the foot – Put on her carmine suit And see!
The speaker then makes a remarkable claim, reporting that her subject was aware of the speaker’s identity because of the sound of her football. The speaker is now playing with her readers, telling them that she, in fact, is the one who was able to remember and spot the subject.
Even more remarkable and cagey of the speaker is that after the subject of her discourse recognizes the speaker, the subject dresses herself out in a “carmine suit.” The dark red coloring of the subject might offer a clue to her identity, but it might also obfuscate that identify.
The speaker then excitedly cries, “And see!” She is pointing to the subject, telling her companion, who may be real or imagined, to observe the fascinating, unusual color of the subject.
The speaker makes little known about the subject itself; her description seems to cover more than uncover, yet it reveals much about the speaker, who has demonstrated her joy, even glee, at the opportunity to discover and visit this nature’s child who sleeps beneath a tree and then turns red at the mere presence of the speaker’s aura.
So who is this child of nature sleeping beneath and tree? The speaker does not name the subject of this riddle poem, because she wants her audience to participate in wonder and amazement as they try to suss out exactly who that entity is.
Reading of “It’s all I have to bring today”
Commentary on “It’s all I have to bring today”
The poem begins in humble recognition of a humble offering but then expands to include all the speaker’s circumference.
First Movement: A Blooming Statement
It’s all I have to bring today – This, and my heart beside – This, and my heart, and all the fields – And all the meadows wide –
The speaker begins small with a statement that sounds quite limiting. She apparently is porting something and says that’s all she has brought today. But she seems immediately to contradict that limiting statement by opening up to a whole wide world of other things she is bringing.
In addition to the object she has brought, she is also bringing “her heart,” “all the fields,” as well as “all the meadows.” Her statement seems to fan out like one of those Japanese folding fans that folds up and then spreads out for use in moving the air about one’s face.
Second Movement: Reckoning God
Be sure you count – should I forget Some one the sum could tell – This, and my heart, and all the Bees Which in the Clover dwell.
To her audience, the speaker then commands that they also include God, that is, “some one the sum could tell.” Only God is able to reckon all the creation that the speaker has chosen to allude to in her expanding report.
The speaker then reiterates that she is bringing “this” along with her heart and then expands further by including “all the Bees” that live in the clover. She has gone from bringing only a seeming token to bringing all that her eyes can detect or all that he mind can discern.
This humble speaker is simply offering all that she is, all that she sees, and all that she knows to the Blessèd Creator, Who has fashioned all of this magnificent nature that she adores with her heart, mind, and soul.
Taken Together: An Alternative View
Looking at each installment of this mini-series individually returns a commingling of two slightly differing views as described in the commentaries above. But a slightly different view may be taken by using a small adjustment.
If one interprets the “it” in the second part of the series as referring to the subject of the first installment, then the speaker seems to have plucked the tulip and is now offering it at her altar for her meditation and prayer.
Actually, everything else remains the same; her humble offering to God has caused her mind to expand from simple awareness of the tulip to acknowledgment of all God’s creation–including her heart, the fields, the meadows, and, of course, all the bees in the clover.
For Thee, O my Divine Belovèd,, I give my heart— a window and a door. I throw open the window; I open wide the door; Every hour I need Thee. Every minute slips into Every hour of needing Thee. Morning, noon, evening, Night and day, night and day, I need Thee. When wilt Thou come into my heart? Will I pine away without Thee?
O, my Divine Belovèd,, I wait with the windows and doors Of my heart thrown wide open for Thee— Come, come to me, O Belovèd,, Come, come to me, O Divine Belovèd.
O great Christ, Great Jesus the Christ— Come out of the darkest clouds, Come out of the brightest sky, Bend the earth to Thy desire. Be Thou our Guiding Light!
Make humankind like Thyself, Thy worthy self. O great Christ, Great Jesus the Christ—
Guide us in our reason, In our heart’s feeling, And in our soul, Be Thou our Guiding Light
Emily Dickinson’s “The Gentian weaves her fringes”
In Emily Dickinson’s “The Gentian weaves her fringes,” the speaker metaphorically likens the end of summer to the departure of the soul of a loved one, creating a little funeral drama in a church with a final prayer offering.
Introduction and Text of “The Gentian weaves her fringes”
Emily Dickinson kept the Sabbath by staying home, as she so colorfully expressed in her poem, “Some keep the Sabbath going to Church.” But while others were content to participate in the traditional church services, Dickinson created speakers who marveled in the natural surroundings to the point of uplifting those natural creatures to divine entities in the rarified spiritual air.
As most readers know, Emily Dickinson lived a cloistered life resembling that of a monastic, earning herself the title, “Nun of Amherst.” Her poem, “Some keep the Sabbath going to Church,” celebrates this cherished belief held by “the nun of Amherst” that merely staying home and worshipping could lead one to heaven instead of waiting for death.
In the “Some keep the Sabbath” poem, the speaker creates her own church with a bird serving the position of the choir director and fruit trees serving as the roof of her church. And the sermon is preached by none other than “God,””a noted Clergyman.”
Like the “Some keep the Sabbath” poem, “The Gentian weaves her fringes” also finds the speaker creating her own church along with a church funeral service that she employs metaphorically as the death or departure of the summer season. The echo of a traditional prayer caps the little drama with beauty and leaves the reader in a highly spiritual atmosphere of the divine, little Dickinson created church.
The Gentian weaves her fringes
The Gentian weaves her fringes – The Maple’s loom is red – My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
A brief, but patient illness – An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are – It was a short procession, The Bobolink was there – An aged Bee addressed us – And then we knelt in prayer – We trust that she was willing – We ask that we may be. Summer – Sister – Seraph! Let us go with thee!
In the name of the Bee – And of the Butterfly – And of the Breeze – Amen!
Commentary on “The Gentian weaves her fringes”
The speaker is metaphorically likening the end of summer to the departure of the soul of a loved one, creating a little funeral drama in a church with a final prayer offering.
First Stanza: Observation of the Departing Blooms
The Gentian weaves her fringes – The Maple’s loom is red – My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
The speaker observes that the Gentian flower that grows billowy edges has been weaving those edges while the red maple tree remains looming overhead. But then she reveals that she is reporting not a simple celebration of blooming plants, but instead she will be describing the departures of “blossoms.” Those blooming flowers are departing because summer is coming to an end.
Second Stanza: Drama of a Church Service
A brief, but patient illness – An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are – It was a short procession, The Bobolink was there – An aged Bee addressed us – And then we knelt in prayer – We trust that she was willing – We ask that we may be. Summer – Sister – Seraph! Let us go with thee!
The speaker then creates a fascinating scenario calling the short summer season a “brief, but patient illness.” Of course, it is the grieving speaker who feels the illness that her beloved summer with all of its warmth, colors, and inviting other sense pleasures will soon be departing. Thus she is metaphorically likening the end of summer to the end of the life of a beloved friend or relative.
And she is doing so for a very specific reason. Just as the speaker averred in “Some Keep the Sabbath,” she is creating a special church service. This time it is a funeral service that includes “the Bobolink” and “an aged Bee” who offer eulogies for the departing loved one.
The speaker then proclaims that the funeral attendees all “knelt in prayer.” The prayer expresses the wish that the departing soul is doing so willingly. She then offers a startling remark, naming the departing one not only “Summer” but “Sister” and “Seraph.” This departing soul is close as a sister and beloved as an angel. Thus this speaker expresses the wish to accompany Summer on its departing journey.
Third Stanza: A Final Prayer Offering
In the name of the Bee – And of the Butterfly – And of the Breeze – Amen!
The completion of the prayer echoes the many prayers that are offered weekly in most churches. But instead of “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” this speaker’s created natural church prayer pays homage to the natural creatures, Bee, Butterfly, and Breeze. She then appends the same devotional closing found in most if not all Christian prayers—”Amen!”
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