Linda's Literary Home

Tag: Emily Dickinson

  • Emily Dickinson’s “A Light exists in Spring”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “A Light exists in Spring”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “A Light exists in Spring” is striving to portray a certain kind of light that “exists [only] in Spring” or very near spring.

    Introduction with Text of “A Light exists in Spring”

    Emily Dickinson’s “A Light exists in Spring” features five quatrains with a somewhat erratic rime scheme.  Each quatrain follows a fairly regular pattern of ABCB with the second quatrain offering the slant rime, “fields / feels,” and the third quatrain offering no rime at all. 

    The final quatrain again features an irregular pair of rimes, “Content / Sacrament.”  The theme of the poem focuses on a special feeling that becomes engendered in the observer as she experiences a certain kind of light.


    A Light exists in Spring

    A Light exists in Spring
    Not present on the Year
    At any other period –
    When March is scarcely here

    A Color stands abroad
    On Solitary Fields
    That Science cannot overtake
    But Human Nature feels.

    It waits upon the Lawn,
    It shows the furthest Tree
    Upon the furthest Slope you know
    It almost speaks to you.

    Then as Horizons step
    Or Noons report away
    Without the Formula of sound
    It passes and we stay –

    A quality of loss
    Affecting our Content
    As Trade had suddenly encroached
    Upon a Sacrament.

    Commentary on “A Light exists in Spring”

    Emily Dickinson has created a speaker in “A Light exists in Spring” who is musing upon and then striving to portray a certain kind of light that becomes visible only during the season of spring or, at least, very near that season of rebirth.

    First Quatrain:  A Particular Light

    A Light exists in Spring
    Not present on the Year
    At any other period —
    When March is scarcely here

    The speaker asserts that this light may be experienced “in Spring,” and this particular light cannot be seen at any other time of the year.  However, the speaker then reports that this light does appear just after the month of March has arrived.

    This claim, therefore, suggests that the light might also appear just before the actual season of spring has arrived.  The season of spring does not begin until the third week of March, not in early March, as the speaker seems to be suggesting.

    Second Quatrain:   Not Identified by Science

    A Color stands abroad
    On Solitary Fields
    That Science cannot overtake
    But Human Nature feels.

    The speaker now claims that it is possible to observe a certain shade of color that has descended upon the “fields.” This extraordinary “color” apparently has not been identified in nature by science.  However, human beings, according to this speaker, are capable of sensing this color without a name for or scientific description of it.

    The speaker, therefore, hints that the color of this special light does not exist at all in nature, and it is perhaps only visible to the human soul—not the mind or even the heart—as  such lights as rainbows or the aura borealis are visible to the human eye.

    Third Quatrain:  Unearthly, Perhaps Mystical

    It waits upon the Lawn,
    It shows the furthest Tree
    Upon the furthest Slope you know
    It almost speaks to you.

    This unearthly—perhaps even mystical—light with its special color may be experienced as it stands “upon the Lawn.” However, the light may also appear in trees that grow very far away and may also be gleaned from faraway, quite distant from the where the speaker views it.  The speaker now reports that this strange mystical light may seem to converse with anyone, but its language would be one only known to the soul.

    The speaker then strives to arouse in her listeners and readers an understanding that would be quite likely impossible to shape into words.  The speaker has been carried to an indescribable place within her own soul.

    This light that is capable of “wait[ing] upon the Lawn” but does not instantly pass across the lawn strongly suggests that it is capable of  halting time for a short period—possibly to allow the observer to contemplate the nature of its existence.

    Fourth Quatrain:  As the Light Passes

    Then as Horizons step
    Or Noons report away
    Without the Formula of sound
    It passes and we stay —

    That time period which comes through experiencing that special light cannot wait long and thus “it passes.”  Of course, the observer remains, that is, this speaker remains where she is while the light passes on.

    The special light thus seems to resemble sunlight after it has passed overhead around the noon hour.  Naturally, its final departure is without fanfare, although the speaker seems to have expected a sound, or some other sign to help her understand the strange feeling that this light has engendered in her.

    Fifth Quatrain:   An Inappropriate Intrusion

    A quality of loss
    Affecting our Content
    As Trade had suddenly encroached
    Upon a Sacrament.

    The speaker then asserts that she feels a kind of deep loss.  It is as if something drastically inappropriate has happened.   The speaker expresses that painful inappropriateness as the same as finding of “Trade” intruding “Upon a Sacrament.”  She feels as wronged as Jesus felt upon encountering the money changers in the temple.  

    Spiritual Clarity

    In Emily Dickinson’s “A Light exists in Spring,” the speaker has made a valiant effort to describe the ineffable.  Such a task is impossible, but it is possible to portray the feelings that this ineffable entity has engendered in the heart and mind of the individual observer of that indescribable entity. 

    Thus the speaker has remained vague about what this light looks like, but she has made it quite clear how it has made her feel, and that is her reason for creating this particular little drama.

    The speaker’s experience viewing this special light has moved her very deeply. Although she cannot portray the light’s physical nature, she can suggest the nature of the way the light has influenced her mentally and spiritually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I know a place where Summer strives

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

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

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

    Commentary on “I know a place where Summer strives”

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

    First Stanza:  Summer Endeavoring to Become

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Stanza:   A Helping Hand

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

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

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

    Third Stanza:  A Fierce Attempt

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I often passed the village”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “I often passed the village”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I often passed the village” dramatizes the speaker’s recognition that death remains a quiet and loving continuation of existence.

    Introduction and Text of “I often passed the village”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I often passed the village” employs the poet’s characteristic hymn-like cadence and slant rime to fashion a musing on death that remains oddly tender instead of terrifying. The speaker moves from childhood curiosity to spiritual intuition, finally offering solace to those who fear loneliness, confusion, or mortality itself.

    I often passed the village

    I often passed the village
    When going home from school–
    And wondered what they did there–
    And why it was so still–

    I did not know the year then–
    In which my call would come–
    Earlier, by the Dial,
    Than the rest have gone.

    It’s stiller than the sundown.
    It’s cooler than the dawn–
    The Daisies dare to come here–
    And birds can flutter down–

    So when you are tired–
    Or perplexed–or cold–
    Trust the loving promise
    Underneath the mould,
    Cry “it’s I,” “take Dollie,”
    And I will enfold!

    Commentary on “I often passed the village”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I often passed the village” reveals the speaker’s effort to transform the fear of death into a loving spiritual promise.

    First Stanza: Wondering

    I often passed the village
    When going home from school–
    And wondered what they did there–
    And why it was so still–

    In the first stanza, the speaker recalls passing a mysterious “village” while returning home from school. The child speaker remains fascinated by the silence surrounding the place, wondering what activities occur there and why such profound stillness dominates the atmosphere.

    The “village” is clearly a cemetery, but the speaker cleverly avoids naming it directly. As in many Dickinson riddles, the speaker permits readers gradually to intuit the truth rather than stating it openly and directly.

    The phrase “going home from school” also subtly implies humanity’s passage through earthly existence. School symbolizes the soul’s earthly training ground, while the silent village represents the inevitable destination awaiting every traveler on the physical plane.

    The speaker’s youthful curiosity resembles Paramahansa Yogananda’s teaching that death should not be feared because “life and death are only different phases of one continuous reality.” The spiritual master repeatedly reminded devotees that the soul merely changes states of consciousness rather than ceasing to exist.  

    Like the speaker in Dickinson’s “There is another sky,” this speaker senses another realm existing behind ordinary appearances. The child may not yet understand death intellectually, but intuition already whispers that the silent village conceals an important spiritual mystery.

    Second Stanza: Not Knowing

    I did not know the year then–
    In which my call would come–
    Earlier, by the Dial,
    Than the rest have gone.

    The second stanza shifts from childhood wondering to mature realization. The speaker now understands that one day her own “call” will come, summoning her into that same silent village she once regarded with innocent curiosity.

    The term “call” softens the harshness of death by suggesting invitation instead of annihilation. The speaker does not portray death as violence but as a summons issued according to divine timing.

    The line “Earlier, by the Dial” implies that the speaker expects to die relatively young. The “Dial” symbolizes the clock of earthly time, which measures each individual’s appointed span within mortal existence.

    Dickinson frequently portrayed earthly life as temporary residence while hinting that eternity remains the soul’s true homeland. The speaker now recognizes that her own departure will arrive “earlier” than others expect, yet she accepts that destiny calmly rather than rebelliously.

    The stanza echoes the speaker’s confidence found in “There is another sky,” where a permanent metaphysical realm surpasses earthly mutability. In both poems, the speaker demonstrates unusual composure before realities that traditionally provoke fear and despair.

    Paramahansa Yogananda often taught that intuitive souls gradually perceive death not as catastrophe but as transition. His observation that “the soul is ever free, untouched by birth and death” harmonizes remarkably with Dickinson’s serene handling of mortality. 

    Third Stanza: Naturing

    It’s stiller than the sundown.
    It’s cooler than the dawn–
    The Daisies dare to come here–
    And birds can flutter down–

    The third stanza offers further description of the mysterious village. The speaker compares the place to twilight and dawn, two naturally quiet transitional moments that already suggest movement between worlds.

    Yet the village remains “stiller” and “cooler” than either sunset or sunrise. Such comparisons elevate the cemetery into a realm existing outside ordinary earthly motion and noise.

    The speaker’s nature imagery softens the starkness of death. Daisies “dare” to enter this place, while birds confidently descend upon it, implying that nature itself recognizes no ultimate separation between life and death.

    Flowers and birds continue to flourish around graves because nature engulfs cyclic renewal. Human beings alone recoil emotionally from death, while, apparently, the natural world calmly accepts transformation as part of divine order.

    The speaker’s use of the verb “dare” subtly acknowledges humanity’s fearfulness. Even so, the daisies possess courage enough to bloom near the graves, suggesting that innocence and beauty can survive in the presence of mortality.

    Dickinson’s speaker resembles the poet-speaker of “There is another sky,” who fashions a permanent garden untouched by decay. Both speakers envision spiritual continuity overcoming earthly transience and corruption.

    Fourth Stanza: Trusting in Love

    So when you are tired–
    Or perplexed–or cold–
    Trust the loving promise
    Underneath the mould,
    Cry “it’s I,” “take Dollie,”
    And I will enfold!

    In the final stanza, the speaker directly addresses future mourners and sufferers. Those who feel “tired,” “perplexed,” or spiritually “cold” are instructed to trust the “loving promise” lying beneath earthly burial soil.

    The phrase “underneath the mould” transforms the grave from frightening abyss into sacred shelter. The speaker insists that divine love persists even beneath the physical earth covering the body.

    The intimate expression “I will enfold” conveys warmth, comfort, and protection. Instead of depicting death as isolation, the speaker imagines it as loving embrace and spiritual reunion.

    “Dollie” likely refers to Susan Gilbert Dickinson, the poet’s beloved sister-in-law and intimate companion. The speaker’s affectionate tone therefore intensifies the emotional tenderness permeating the poem’s conclusion.

    Like the speaker in “There is another sky,” this speaker invites loved ones into a realm untouched by earthly sorrow. The invitation finally becomes not merely literary or imaginative but profoundly spiritual and eternal.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Heart!  We will forget him!”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Heart!  We will forget him!”

    Emily Dickinson’s “Heart! We will forget him!” dramatizes the struggle between emotional attachment and disciplined resolve as the speaker attempts to command memory itself into silence.

    Introduction and Text of “Heart! We will forget him!”

    Emily Dickinson’s “Heart! We will forget him!” consists of two minimalist quatrains in which the speaker stages an internal dialogue between reason and emotion. The little drama reveals how difficult it becomes for the human heart to surrender attachment once affection and memory have become intertwined. 

    As in many Dickinsonian poems, the speaker compresses profound psychological and spiritual conflict into deceptively simple language.

    Heart! We will forget him!

    Heart! We will forget him!
    You and I – tonight!
    You may forget the warmth he gave –
    I will forget the light!

    When you have done, pray tell me
    That I may straight begin!
    Haste! lest while you’re lagging
    I remember him!

    Reading

    Commentary on “Heart! We will forget him!”

    Emily Dickinson’s “Heart! We will forget him!” reveals a speaker attempting to discipline the emotions through force of will while recognizing the nearly impossible task of erasing genuine affection.

    First Stanza: Determination

    Heart! We will forget him!
    You and I – tonight!
    You may forget the warmth he gave–
    I will forget the light!

    The speaker begins abruptly with an exclamation addressed to her own “Heart!” The command sounds forceful and immediate, as though she fears hesitation will weaken her resolve. By pairing herself with her heart—“You and I”—the speaker divides the personality into reasoning consciousness and emotional memory, creating a tiny internal drama that exposes the divided nature of human awareness.

    The declaration “tonight!” intensifies the urgency. The speaker seems to believe that forgetting must occur instantly or not at all. Yet even within the command lies evidence that forgetting cannot be simple, because the speaker must persuade her own heart rather than merely dismiss the beloved naturally.

    The distinction between “warmth” and “light” deepens the poem’s symbolic resonance. Warmth suggests emotional comfort and earthly affection, while “light” implies inspirational guidance, or spiritual illumination. The speaker thus admits that the lost beloved affected not merely her feelings but also her inner vision and consciousness.

    The speaker’s attempt to divide emotional and intellectual remembrance recalls Paramahansa Yogananda’s teaching that attachment clouds spiritual freedom. In Self-Realization Fellowship’s discussion of transcending suffering, the great Guru explains that suffering persists when consciousness remains chained to outward conditions instead of anchored in Divine Reality. 

    Dickinson’s speaker, however, remains suspended between attachment and liberation; she longs to forget but still treasures the very memories she condemns.

    The speaker’s language also resembles the yogic injunction cited in my own sonnet sequence “Forget the Past”: A 10-Sonnet Sequence: “Forget the past. The vanished lives of all men are dark with many shames.” 

    Yet Dickinson’s speaker demonstrates how difficult that command becomes when memory carries emotional radiance instead of mere regret. The beloved’s “light” still shines in the speaker’s awareness even as she attempts to extinguish it.

    The stanza’s brevity heightens the emotional pressure. No explanatory details about the relationship appear because the speaker focuses entirely on the inward struggle. Dickinson’s characteristic minimalist compression permits each word—“Heart,” “warmth,” “light”—to resonate beyond literal meaning into emotional and metaphysical suggestion.

    Second Stanza: Keeping the Vow

    When you have done, pray tell me
    That I may straight begin!
    Haste! lest while you’re lagging
    I remember him!

    In the second stanza, the speaker’s confident command begins to unravel. She now admits that the heart must complete its forgetting before the conscious mind can even “begin.” The reversal subtly reveals that emotion governs memory more powerfully than rational intention.

    The word “pray” introduces an almost desperate tone. Although still addressing her own heart, the speaker sounds less commanding and more pleading. Her urgency increases in “Haste!” because she recognizes that delay threatens the fragile vow she has attempted to establish.

    Ironically, the speaker’s fear of remembering guarantees remembrance. Even while commanding forgetfulness, she continues repeating “him,” thus preserving the beloved through language itself. Dickinson frequently constructs such paradoxes, allowing the speaker’s effort to deny emotion to become proof of emotion’s endurance.

    The phrase “while you’re lagging” personifies the heart as stubborn and reluctant. The speaker understands that emotional attachment cannot simply obey intellectual decree. The human heart retains impressions long after the rational mind wishes to dismiss them.

    This tension resembles teachings found in “The Soul’s Nature Is Love” from Self-Realization Fellowship, where love is described as intrinsic to the soul itself. Dickinson’s speaker demonstrates that affection cannot easily be erased because genuine feeling leaves permanent impressions upon consciousness. The poem therefore becomes not merely a rejection of earthly attachment but also a revelation of love’s persistence.

    A similar emotional undercurrent appears in my original poem “Between Us Is a Whirlwind”, where separated lovers remain psychologically bound despite physical distance. Dickinson’s speaker likewise discovers that inner attachment survives outward separation. The heart continues moving toward remembrance even while the intellect commands retreat.

    The final line lands with remarkable subtlety. “I remember him!” sounds almost involuntary, as though memory has overtaken the speaker before the sentence can finish. 

    The poem closes not with successful forgetting but with the triumph of emotional recollection. Dickinson’s speaker ultimately reveals that the heart obeys its own mysterious laws, and memory itself becomes a testament to the enduring power of love—whether human or divine.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “If she had been the Mistletoe”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “If she had been the Mistletoe”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “If she had been the Mistletoe” dramatizes a delicate triangle of desire, rivalry, and ritualized offering. She imagines an alternative pairing that would have allowed her a more intimate fate, yet resigns herself to symbolic gestures. Through floral imagery and seasonal suggestion, she transforms emotional disappointment into a refined act of presentation and poetic control.

    Introduction and Text of “If she had been the Mistletoe”

    Emily Dickinson’s “If she had been the Mistletoe” commences as a brief lyric built upon conditional phrasing and symbolic contrast. Its minimalist structure relies simply on two quatrain-like movements, shifting from speculative longing to resigned action. The speaker balances imaginative possibility with social reality, revealing both her metaphysical—even mystical—wit and her strong emotional restraint.

    The lyric’s imagery draws on traditional associations: mistletoe with festive intimacy, the rose with romantic beauty, and druidic elements with puzzling ancient ritual. The speaker situates herself within this symbolic field, crafting a little dramatic performance, wherein desire is transformed into aesthetic gesture, resulting in a poetic performance that rivals all others in the English language.

    If she had been the Mistletoe

    If she had been the Mistletoe
    And I had been the Rose –
    How gay upon your table
    My velvet life to close –
    Since I am of the Druid,
    And she is of the dew –
    I’ll deck Tradition’s buttonhole –
    And send the Rose to you.

    Commentary on “If she had been the Mistletoe”

    The speaker transforms romantic rivalry into symbolic exchange, revealing how imagination reshapes loss into artful offering while preserving emotional integrity.

    Movement 1: A Speculation in Velvet

    If she had been the Mistletoe
    And I had been the Rose –
    How gay upon your table
    My velvet life to close –

    The speaker opens with a conditional vision that immediately establishes distance from fulfillment. By imagining a juxtaposition of “Mistletoe” and “Rose”—both of which she quaintly capitalizes—the speaker constructs a hypothetical rearrangement of roles that would favor her own romantic inclusion.

    The mistletoe implies a sanctioned intimacy, especially within social ritual. By assigning that rôle to the rival figure, the speaker acknowledges the other’s privileged position in the beloved’s attention.

    In contrast, the rose represents beauty offered for admiration rather than participation. The speaker’s identification with the rose reveals both her desirability and her limitation, as she can be appreciated but not embraced under the same ritual conditions.

    The image of gaiety upon “your table” wherein her life becomes a velvet awareness suggests a theatrical yet decorative finality. The speaker thus is imagining herself as an ornament placed before the beloved; her “velvet life” implies richness, softness, and sensuous appeal.

    Yet that life “to close” hints at a kind of sacrifice or diminishment. The speaker envisions her beauty culminating in a static display, emphasizing how her imagined role remains passive and ultimately finite.

    The table setting reinforces the idea of arrangement and control, where objects are placed deliberately for aesthetic effect. The speaker’s presence would be curated rather than spontaneously engaged, underscoring her lack of agency within the romantic dynamic.

    Despite the wistfulness of the scenario, the tone carries a subtle brightness through the word “gay.” This brightness, however, feels tinged with irony, as the imagined joy is contingent upon an impossible condition.

    The speaker’s speculation reveals both longing and self-awareness. She recognizes the structure of the situation while still indulging in a fleeting vision of how it might have been otherwise.

    Thus the first movement captures a moment of imaginative reordering. The speaker briefly escapes her reality, only to highlight more sharply the constraints that define her actual position.

    Movement 2: Because This Is So

    Since I am of the Druid,
    And she is of the dew –
    I’ll deck Tradition’s buttonhole –
    And send the Rose to you.

    The second movement shifts decisively from speculation to acceptance. The word “Since” signals the speaker’s acknowledgment of reality, replacing conditional fantasy with a statement of fact.

    By bizarrely and self-deprecatingly declaring her druidness, the speaker aligns herself with ancient ritual and intentional artistry. However, the druidic association also suggests knowledge, ceremony, and a certain authority over symbolic acts.

    In contrast, the rival figure “is of the dew,” an image that evokes freshness, naturalness, and ephemeral beauty. This distinction subtly elevates the speaker’s rôle as more deliberate and crafted, even as it acknowledges the other’s immediate appeal.

    The speaker’s identity becomes rooted in tradition and design rather than spontaneous attraction. She cannot compete within the same terms, so she redefines the framework through which value is expressed.

    The image of decking “Tradition’s buttonhole” introduces a gesture of adornment that is both formal and restrained. The buttonhole, a place for a small flower, symbolizes public display rather than private intimacy. 

    Through this act, the speaker asserts control over presentation. She becomes the arranger, the one who determines how beauty is offered and perceived.

    The final image sending of sending “the Rose to you” concludes the transformation of desire into gift. The speaker relinquishes the rose—herself, symbolically—offering it to the beloved despite her own exclusion.

    This gesture carries both generosity and silent resignation. By sending the rose, she participates in the exchange while acknowledging that the fulfillment it represents belongs elsewhere.

    The act of sending also creates distance, reinforcing the separation between the speaker and the beloved. Yet it allows her to remain present in a mediated, symbolic form.  The tone remains composed, avoiding overt bitterness. Instead, the speaker channels her emotional complexity into a refined, almost ceremonial action.

    In this way, the poem concludes with an assertion of poetic power. The speaker may not control the romantic outcome, but she controls its representation, shaping loss into an enduring and elegant expression.

    Dickinson’s Elegance

    The marvelous, mystical talent of Emily Dickinson has done it again. She has taken a potentially sad and demeaning situation and turned it into a gem of shining glory.  Her minimalism emphasizes her multi-faceted talent.

    Her garden of mystical verse, wherein another kind of sky reigns, thus acquires an additional flower of exquisite life and persistent beauty.  She will never back down from any challenge because her mind remains a tool-chest of useful instruments perfectly crafted for her metaphysical purposes.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I robbed the Woods”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “I robbed the Woods”

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

    Introduction and Text of “I robbed the Woods”

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

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

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

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

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

    I robbed the Woods

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

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

    Commentary on “I robbed the Woods”

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

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

    First Movement: A Startling Confession

    I robbed the Woods –
    The trusting Woods.

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement: Pleasing Her Fantasy

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

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

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

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

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

    Third Movement: Absconding with Treasures

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

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

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

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

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

    Fourth Movement: The Metaphor of Theft

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

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

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

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

    A Crimeless “Crime”

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

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

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

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

    Celebrating Poetic Inspiration

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

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

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

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

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose”

    Emily Dickinson loved flowers, as well as all other creatures of nature.  The rose became a symbol for her, signifying beauty and the evanescence of all natural beings.  From a lament for a single rose, she begins to muse on the relationship of the Divine to His creation, including her own creations. 

    Introduction with Text of “Nobody knows this little Rose”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose” is bemoaning the sadness that a “little Rose” will surely die without having attracted attention during its sojourn on the earthly plane.  Only a bee, a bird,  a butterfly,  along with a gentle wind and  the speaker will likely have even noticed that such a beautiful entity had existed. 

    In observing that it is quite easy for this little rose to succumb to death, the speaker goes into mourning for that death.  Such beauty, the speaker opines, should not be so easily lost but instead should attract the attention it deserves.Perhaps it should even have its stature elevated to a higher plane of being than the mere physical level of being, which it is so easily vanquished.  

    Nobody knows this little Rose

    Nobody knows this little Rose –
    It might a pilgrim be
    Did I not take it from the ways
    And lift it up to thee.
    Only a Bee will miss it –
    Only a Butterfly,
    Hastening from far journey –
    On its breast to lie –
    Only a Bird will wonder –
    Only a Breeze will sigh –
    Ah Little Rose – how easy
    For such as thee to die!

    Commentary on “Nobody knows this little Rose”

    The speaker is musing about the death of a small rose.  She imagines its family mourning the rose’s absence.  The speaker, while musing to herself, incidentally addresses God in the opening movement and then the rose itself in the final movement.

    First Movement:  Lamentation for the Unknown

    Nobody knows this little Rose –
    It might a pilgrim be
    Did I not take it from the ways
    And lift it up to thee.

    The speaker begins her lament by claiming that no one is acquainted with her subject, a simple, small rose.  She has plucked this little rose, which apparently was growing in the wild.  

    The speaker speculates that this little rose might be “a pilgrim” for it was growing away from other flower beds.   She then rather casually asks someone, likely God, or Mother Nature about her own act.  

    Although formed as a question, the speaker actually reveals the fact that she did pluck the little flower and then offered it up to “thee.”  It remains a strange confession, but it is likely that the act of plucking the rose has set her off to realizing that it will now die.  But instead of just enjoying its beauty, she continues to speculate about the life of the little flower.

    Second Movement:  Only Missing

    Only a Bee will miss it –
    Only a Butterfly,
    Hastening from far journey –
    On its breast to lie –

    In her speculation, the speaker takes into account who might have been its visitors.  She exaggerates that a solitary bee “will miss” the rose because of the speaker’s act.  But after saying “only” a bee will note that the little rose is missing, she remembers that likely a “butterfly” will also note its absence.  

    The butterfly will have traveled perhaps miles to rest upon the little rose’s “breast.”  And the butterfly, the speaker speculates, will have been hurrying to finish its “journey” that led it to the rose’s abode.  Now after it makes that hastened trip, it will be astonished, or perhaps frustrated, that the little flower has gone missing.

    Third Movement:  The Ease of Dying

    Only a Bird will wonder –
    Only a Breeze will sigh –
    Ah Little Rose – how easy
    For such as thee to die!

    The speaker continues to catalogue those creatures who will be missing the little rose.  She notes that in addition to the bee and the butterfly, some bird is going to wonder what happened to the flower.  The last entity to ponder the absence of the little rose is the “Breeze,” which will “sigh” as it wafts over the location that once held the sweet fragrance of the rose.

    After the speaker’s intense musing to herself and to the Blessèd Creator of nature, she then addresses the rose itself, but all she can do is offer a simple, humble remark about how “easy” it is for a creature such as the “Little Rose” “to die!”  Her excited utterance, however, belies the simplicity of the words.  Her heart is filled with the sadness and sorrow that accompany the missing of loved ones.

    The speaker has created and assembled a family for the little rose: a bee, a butterfly, a bird, and a breeze.  All of these creatures of nature have interacted with the rose, and now the speaker is musing on how they will be affected by the flower’s absence. 

    They will all miss her, and the speaker knows how missing a loved one feels.  The ease with which a little unknown creature dies does not assuage the pain its absence will cause.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “If those I loved were lost”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “If those I loved were lost”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “If those I loved were lost” is emphasizing the value she places on her loved ones.  She likens their importance to significant events from the community level to the world stage, where bells ring to announce important happenings.

    Introduction and Text of “If those I loved were lost” 

    Emily Dickinson’s “If those I loved were lost” features two stanzas, each with two movements.  The speaker’s musing targets how the speaker would react to both losing and finding loved ones.  Her emotions and behaviors signal the importance of those loved ones to her.  The value she places on these individuals can only be suggested and not directly stated.

    If those I loved were lost 

    If those I loved were lost
    The Crier’s voice would tell me –
    If those I loved were found
    The bells of Ghent would ring –

    Did those I loved repose
    The Daisy would impel me.
    Philip – when bewildered
    Bore his riddle in!

    Commentary on “If those I loved were lost” 

    This highly allusive poem takes readers from life in a small village to the world stage, on which famous bells herald momentous events.  The allusions emphasize the significance the speaker places on those to whom she refers. 

    First Movement:   An Important Announcement 

    If those I loved were lost
    The Crier’s voice would tell me –

    The speaker is speculating about her emotions and behaviors after having lost a loved one, and then she adds a speculative note about those emotions and behavior as she suddenly has found a beloved. 

    The first movement finds the speaker claiming that the loss of a loved one would herald a “Crier” to announce the event.  In earlier times, a “town crier” was employed to spread local news events on the streets of small villages.   

    The town crier’s position was noticeable because of his manner and elaborate dress:  such a crier might be adorned in bright colors, a coat of red and gold with white pants, a three-cornered hat (tricon), and black boots.  He usually carried a bell that he would ring to attract attention of the citizens.  He often would begin his announcement with the cry, “Oyez!  Oyez!  Oyez!” 

    By making this simple claim that a “crier” would be letting her know about the loss of a loved one, the speaker is elevating the importance of everyone she loves to the status of a noted official or famous name in the community.  

    Second Movement:  The Significance of Loss 

    If those I loved were found
    The bells of Ghent would ring – 

    The speaker then alludes to the famous Ghent Belfry, whose construction began in 1313 with ringing bells to announce religious events, later employed to signal other important occurrences.    

    The inscription on the belfry tower indicates the historical and legendary important of the construction:   “My name is Roland. When I toll there is fire. /  When I ring there is victory in the land.” 

    Dickinson was likely aware of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s lines, “Till the bell of Ghent responded o’er lagoon and dike of sand, I am Roland! I am Roland! there is victory in the land!”   

    Because the famous bells ring to herald important events, the speaker assigns great importance to the fact that she has found a loved one.  Thus the speaker has molded her losing and finding those she loves into great and momentous events. 

    Third Movement:  Daisy and Death 

    Did those I loved repose
    The Daisy would impel me.

    The speaker then speculates about her reaction to the death of her loved ones.  She refers to the flower, the “Daisy,” stating that it would “impel her.”  The employment of the Daisy is likely prompted by the flower’s association with growing on graves as in Keats’ reference in the following excerpt from one of his letter to a friend:  

    I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave – thank God for the quiet grave – O! I can feel the cold earth upon me – the daisies growing over me – O for this quiet – it will be my first. 

    And, too, there is the old expression, “pushing up daisies,” of which Dickinson was, no doubt, aware.  The flower would drive her to some of kind reaction which she fails to describe but only hints at.  Although she simply suggests her reaction, she leaves a significant clue in the next movement, as she alludes again to Ghent, this time the leader named Philip.

    Fourth Movement:  The Riddle of Loss

    Philip – when bewildered
    Bore his riddle in!

    The speaker is then alluding to Philip van Artevelde (1340–82), who was a popular Flemish leader. He led a successful battle against the count of Flanders, but later met defeat and death.  The Dickinson household library contained a book with a play that featured Philip’s last words before dying, “What have I done?  Why such a death?  Why thus?”

    Thus the speaker makes it known that she would have many questions as she struggles with the death of a loved one.  She would, like Philip, be overcome, having to bear such a “riddle.” 

    The speaker has shown how important and necessary her loved ones are to her, and she has also demonstrated that their loss would be devastating, and she has done all this through suggestions and hints, without any direct statement of pain and anguish.  All of the sorrow is merely suggested by the high level of importance she is assigning to her loved ones.  

  • Emily Dickinson’s “It did not surprise me”

    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – This daguerrotype circa 1847 at age 17 is likely the only authentic, extant image of the poet.

    Emily Dickinson’s “It did not surprise me”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “It did not surprise me,” the speaker has created a bird metaphor as she begins to muse on the unlikely event that she may lose her intuitive ability to perceive beyond sense awareness.

    Introduction with Text of “It did not surprise me”

    With a similar motivational purpose of her riddle-poem “I have a Bird in spring,” Emily Dickinson’s speaker in “It did not surprise me” employs a bird metaphor to contemplate the notion that her special intuitive ability to perceive events, ideas, and entities beyond sense awareness might abandon her.

    The bird metaphor remains a useful poetic device for Emily Dickinson‘s speakers as they bestow flight on their ability to create poetic dramas. Also, similar to her riddle-poem “I have a Bird in spring” in this little drama, the speaker is unveiling the metaphorical bird as a mystical muse, as the speaker ruminates on the idea that if that little birdling were to fly away from her, she would become heartbroken.

    However, unlike the riddle aspect in “I have a Bird in spring,” the poet allows her speaker to report first as if she is merely describing a literal bird. The speaker then moves into a questioning format which shines a light on the possibility that her muse might just up and fly off as any real bird might do.

    The speaker is obliged, however, to leave the issue without answering it, because she will keep that question as long as she continues in her mission of poetry creation. Ultimately, no creative artist can ever know in advance, if or when inspiration will vanish and possibly never return.

    Despite temporary flights into the clairvoyance of certain noumena, as long as the poet remains earth bound, she remains dependent to a certain extent on ordinary sense awareness.

    It did not surprise me

    It did not surprise me –
    So I said – or thought –
    She will stir her pinions
    And the nest forgot,

    Traverse broader forests –
    Build in gayer boughs,
    Breathe in Ear more modern
    God’s old fashioned vows – 

    This was but a Birdling –
    What and if it be
    One within my bosom
    Had departed me?

    This was but a story –
    What and if indeed
    There were just such coffin
    In the heart instead?

    Reading of “It did not surprise me”  

    Commentary on “It did not surprise me”

    Dickinson’s speaker metaphorically likens her muse—which she knows is bound to her mystical insight—to a bird, as she contemplates the possibility of losing the blessing provided by her innate, God-given talent and mystical ability.

    First Stanza:  A Thought Awakening

    It did not surprise me –
    So I said  –  or thought –
    She will stir her pinions
    And the nest forgot,

    The speaker begins her soliloquy by admitting that her lack of “surprise” at some event has been prompted by the thought of a bird stirring and flying off from its nest.  Between her opening statement and the bird’s first movement, the speaker asserts that upon realizing her lack of surprise, she spoke out but then changed her claim to the fact that she merely thought about the coming event without actually giving it voice.

    The final two lines of the stanza express the possibility of an activity as she states that this particular bird will start fluttering its wings, readying itself for flight and then fly off from its nest.  Such an avian forsaking its nest will then likely not even recall that it had ever stayed there.

    That status is simply the essential nature of natural creatures, as well as specific metaphorical birds that may be likened to the muse.  If this style of muse abandons its target permanently, it will likely not recall that it had ever inspired any such soul.

    Interestingly, Dickinson has her speaker employ the past tense “forgot” but clearly the actual meaning is present tense “forget.”  She possibly employed the past tense because it stands in as a closer rime to “thought.”  

    However, a different interpretation of the meaning may call for the term “forgot” to be understood as the shortened form of the past participle, as in the nest will be “forgotten.”  Through her widespread employment of minimalism and ellipsis, the poet has her speaker leave out “nest will be,” requiring the phrase to be understood and, therefore, supplied by the reader’s mind.

    Second Stanza:  Ranging to New Territories

    Traverse broader forests –
    Build in gayer boughs,
    Breathe in Ear more modern
    God’s old fashioned vows –

    After rousing its pinions and flying from its nest, this bird will roam in new territories or through “broader forests.”  It may reconstruct a new nest in a place deemed happier for its circumstances, that is, “gayer boughs.”  The bird will listen to fresh sounds, as it enjoys the many blessings of its Divine Creator, Who has promised to guard and guide all of His creatures.

    At this point, the bird has taken on only a few metaphorical qualities.  The message could thus be that of merely dramatizing what any young bird might do, after awakening to the marvelous reality of possessing the delicious ability to fly and range wide from its original location.

    Third Stanza:  Bird in the Heart

    This was but a Birdling –
    What and if it be
    One within my bosom
    Had departed me?

    The speaker now admits that the little flying creature she has been describing was, in actuality, a simple little bird, or “Birdling.”  But then she changes her focus to the “One” that lives in her heart, asking the basic question—what if my little bird-muse leaves me?

    In her poem “I have a Bird in spring,” the poet also had her speaker describe her mystical muse as a bird.   That poem also plays out as one of her numerous riddle-poems, as she seems to be describing some impossible entity that can fly from her but then return to her and  bring her gifts from beyond the sea.  

    That special metaphorical bird has the power to calm her in times of stress.  Similar to “I have a Bird in spring,” which is one of her most profound poems, this one, “It did not surprise me,” remains on the exact same consistent plane of mystical perception.  

    Unquestionably, the natural creature known as a “bird” as a metaphorical vehicle for the soul (muse or mystically creative spirit) remains quite appropriate, as poet Paul Laurence Dunbar has also demonstrated in his classic masterpiece “Sympathy.”

    Fourth Stanza:  A Intriguing Inquiry

    This was but a story –
    What and if indeed
    There were just such coffin
    In the heart instead?

    The speaker offers another admission that up to this point she has been merely speculating about her bird/muse flying off from its nest in her heart/mind/soul.  She crafts another inquiry, repeating the curious phrase “[w]hat and if” before her question.

    This poignant question employs the term “coffin” indicating the drastic and deadly situation that would exist in her mind/heart/soul, if her bird/muse did actually fly off from her to explore more extensive forests and build nests on more joyful boughs.  The speaker affirms her belief that such a loss to her heart and mind would materialize that “coffin,” if such an event ever transpired.

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  • Emily Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death”

    Image: Emily Dickinson  This daguerrotype, circa 1847 at age 17,  is likely the only authentic, extant image of the poet.

    Emily Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death”

    Emily Dickinson’s mystical drama features a carriage driver who appears to be a gentleman caller.  The speaker abandons both her work and leisure in order to accompany the kind gentleman on a carriage ride.  Dickinson’s mystical tendencies are on pull display in this poem.

    Introduction with Text of “Because I could not stop for Death”

    Emily Dickinson’s mystical drama “Because I could not stop for Death” plays out with a carriage driver who appears to be a gentleman calling on a lady for an evening outing.  The speaker leaves off her work as well as her leisure activities in order to accompany the gentleman on the carriage ride to their unspecified festivities.

    Certain childhood memories occasionally spur poets to compose verse that is thus influenced by such musing on past memories.  Examples of such nostalgic daydreaming include Dylan Thomas’ “Fern Hill,” Theodore Roethke’s “My Papa’s Waltz,” and a nearly perfect American-Innovative sonnet by Robert Hayden “Those Winter Sundays.” 

    In Emily Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death,” the speaker is also gazing back into her past, but this occasion is a much more momentous musing than merely an ordinary childhood recollection.  The speaker in this memory poem is recalling the day she died. 

    The speaker frames the occasion as a metaphoric carriage ride with Death as the gentleman caller. This speaker is peering intuitively into the plane of existence well beyond that of the earth and into the eternal, spiritual level of being.

    Interestingly, the procession that the carriage ride follows seems to be echoing the concept that in the process of leaving the physical body at death, the mental faculty encased in the soul, experiences past scenes from its current existence. 

    Examples of such past-experienced scenes include the riding by a school and observing that the children were playing at recess; then, they drive by a field of grain and observe the sunset. These are scenes that the speaker has undoubtedly experienced during her current incarnational lifetime.

    Because I could not stop for Death

    Because I could not stop for Death –
    He kindly stopped for me –
    The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
    And Immortality.

    We slowly drove – He knew no haste,
    And I had put away
    My labor and my leisure too,
    For His Civility –

    We passed the School, where Children strove
    At recess – in the ring –
    We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
    We passed the Setting Sun –

    Or rather – He passed Us –
    The Dews drew quivering and chill –
    For only Gossamer, my Gown –
    My Tippet – only Tulle –

    We paused before a House that seemed
    A Swelling of the Ground –
    The Roof was scarcely visible –
    The Cornice – in the Ground –

    Since then – ’tis centuries – and yet
    Feels shorter than the Day
    I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
    Were toward Eternity –

    Reading of “Because I could not stop for Death” 

    Commentary on “Because I could not stop for Death”

    The speaker avers that she had no inclination to stop what she was doing for the sake of “Death.”  Nevertheless, Death—as a kindly carriage driver, appearing to be a gentleman caller—was polite enough to invite her to join him on an outing.  

    Because of this kind gentleman’s polite demeanor, the speaker gladly leaves off both her ordinary, daily work plus her free time hours in order to accompany the gentleman on what portends to be a simple, pleasant carriage ride, perhaps including some evening social event.

    First Stanza: An Unorthodox Carriage Ride

    Because I could not stop for Death –
    He kindly stopped for me –
    The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
    And Immortality.

    In the first stanza, the speaker claims startlingly that she was unable to avail herself to cease her work and leave off her free time for a certain gentleman, whom she names “Death.”

    However, that gentleman Death had no problem in stopping for her, and he did so in such a polite fashion that she readily acquiesced to his kindness and agreed to join him for a carriage ride. 

    The speaker offers an additional shocking remark, noting that the carriage, in which the speaker and gentleman caller Death rode, was transporting not only the speaker and the gentleman but also one other passenger—”Immortality.”  Thus, the speaker has begun to dramatize an utterly unorthodox buggy ride. 

    The kind gentleman Death has picked up the speaker as if she were his date for a simple carriage ride through the countryside, but something otherworldly intrudes immediately with the presence of the third passenger.

    By personifying “Death” as a gentleman caller, the speaker imparts to that act a certain level of rationality that levels out fear and trepidation usually associated with the idea of dying.  

    Second Stanza:  The Gentleman Caller

    We slowly drove – He knew no haste,
    And I had put away
    My labor and my leisure too,
    For His Civility –

    The speaker then describes her momentous event. She has not only ceased her ordinary work, but she has also concluded her leisure–certainly not unusual for someone who dies.

    The gentleman caller Death has been so persuasive in suggesting a carriage ride that the speaker has easily complied with his suggestion. This kind and gracious man was in no hurry; instead, he offered a rhythmically methodical ushering into realms of peace and quiet.

    Third Stanza: A Review of a Life Lived

    We passed the School, where Children strove
    At recess – in the ring –
    We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
    We passed the Setting Sun –

    Next, the speaker reports that she was able to observe children playing at school during recess. She also views cornfields or perhaps fields of wheat.  She, then, views the setting of the sun. 

    The images observed by the speaker may be interpreted as symbols of three stages in each human life:  (1) children playing representing childhood, (2) the growing fields of grain symbolizing adulthood, and (3) the setting sun representing old age.

    The imagery also brings to mind the well-known concept that a dying person may experience the passing of scenes from one’s life before the mind’s eye.   The experience of viewing of past scenic memories from the dying person’s life seems likely to be for the purpose of readying the human soul for its next incarnation.

    Fourth Stanza:  The Passing Scenes

    Or rather – He passed Us –
    The Dews drew quivering and chill –
    For only Gossamer, my Gown –
    My Tippet – only Tulle –

    The speaker reveals that she is dressed in very light clothing.  On the one hand, she experiences a chill at witnessing the startling images passing before her sight.  But is it the light clothing or is it some other phenomenon causing the chill?

    Then on the other hand, it seems that instead of the carriage passing those scenes she has described of children playing, grain growing, and sun setting, those scenes may actually be passing the carriage riders.  The uncertainly regarding this turn of events once again supports the commonly held notion that the speaker is viewing her life passing before her eyes.

    Fifth Stanza:  The Pause

    We paused before a House that seemed
    A Swelling of the Ground –
    The Roof was scarcely visible –
    The Cornice – in the Ground –

    By now, the carriage has almost reached its destination, and instead of a gala or festive outing, it is the speaker’s gravesite before which the carriage has momentarily stopped. 

    Apparently, without shock or surprise, the speaker now dramatically unveils the image of the grave:  she sees a mound of dirt, but she cannot see the roof of the building that she expected, and any ornamental moulding that might have decorated the house also remains out of the sight of the speaker who assumes it is “in the Ground.”

    Sixth Stanza: Looking Back from Eternity

    Since then – ’tis centuries – and yet
    Feels shorter than the Day
    I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
    Were toward Eternity –

    In the final scene, the speaker is calmly reporting that she remains now—and has been all along—centuries in future time. She speaks plainly from her cosmic, eternal home on the spiritual/astral level of being. She has been reporting only on how events seemed to go on the day she died, that is, that day that her soul left its physical encasement.

    She recalls what she saw only briefly just after leaving her physical encasement (body). Yet, the time from the day she died to her time now centuries later feels to her soul as if it were a very short period of time. 

    The time that has passed, though it may be centuries, seems to the speaker relatively shorter than the earthly day of 24 hours.  The speaker avers that on that day the heads of the horses drawing the carriage were pointing “toward Eternity.” 

    The speaker has unequivocally described through metaphor and metaphysical terminology the transition from life to death. That third occupant of the carriage offered the assurance that the speaker’s soul had left the body but continued to exist beyond that body.