Linda's Literary Home

Tag: joy

  • Emily Dickinson’s “By Chivalries as tiny”

    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 “By Chivalries as tiny”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “By Chivalries as tiny,” the speaker advances the idea that small chivalrous acts function as spiritual seeds, planting joy that matures beyond sight. This idea aligns with the metaphysical fact that inner realities outlast outer show.

    Introduction and Text of “By Chivalries as tiny”

    Emily Dickinson’s “By Chivalries as tiny” discloses the speaker’s insight that small seemingly insignificant courtesies sow seeds of joy which later bloom unseen. The poem asserts that small gestures hold cosmic power to produce inner light.

    By Chivalries as tiny
    A Blossom, or a Book
    The seeds of smiles are planted—
    Which blossom in the dark

    Commentary on “By Chivalries as tiny”

    The speaker assets that oft-overlooked courtesies function as spiritual seeds, planting joy that matures beyond sight. This sentiment aligns with the metaphysical reality that inner realities are permanent while outer acts remain temporary..

    First Line: “By Chivalries as tiny”

    The speaker opens by foregrounding the paradox that smallness contains greatness. “Chivalries” signals courteous acts—gentle, self-forgetting gestures that honor another’s dignity without fanfare. 

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s ability to dramatize quiet virtues that the world overlooks, yet which sustain the soul’s equilibrium. Paramahansa Yogananda explains that service to others expands consciousness and kindles the soul’s joy, especially when one forgets the little self. 

    The phrase “as tiny” does not diminish value; it magnifies the mystery that divine influence often arrives through humble channels. Such acts mirror the inner light that glows when the mind grows calm and attentive. The speaker thus frames ethics as aesthetics: courtesy becomes a form of beauty that radiates beyond the moment of giving.

    Second Line: “A Blossom, or a Book”

    The second line specifies two examples of small gifts: “A Blossom, or a Book.” Both are tangible yet symbolic—nature’s fragrance and thought’s fragrance. A blossom offers sensory delight; a book offers mental illumination.

     In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s treatment of material objects as vessels of metaphysical meaning. Paramahansa Yogananda explains that giving opens the flow of divine abundance and blesses the instrument through which it flows. 

    The blossom signifies ephemeral beauty that nonetheless points to enduring grace; the book signifies lasting wisdom that feeds the inner life. Either gift can awaken a smile because each carries the giver’s attention and care. The speaker thus presents choice without hierarchy: both nature and art serve as conduits of joy.

    Third Line: “The seeds of smiles are planted—”

    Here the speaker shifts from object to effect.  The dash invites a pause, enacting the moment of planting before the bloom. “Seeds” implies latency; “smiles” indicates  inward gladness made visible. 

    In my earlier essays on Dickinson’s poems, I have discussed the speaker’s frequent use of agricultural imagery to map spiritual growth. Paramahansa Yogananda explains that when we think kindly of others, our consciousness expands, and a part of our being goes forth with that thought. 

    The planting is silent, yet it initiates a chain of cause that the planter may never witness. The speaker suggests that joy propagates like a living organism, rooted in the soil of the heart. Thus, courtesy becomes generative, not merely decorative.

    Fourth Line: “Which blossom in the dark”

    The closing line declares, “Which blossom in the dark,” completing the riddle of unseen fruition. “Dark” denotes privacy, night, or the interior where outer eyes cannot track growth. 

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s habit of privileging inner evidence over public display. Paramahansa Yogananda explains that the inner light awakens as the mind grows calm, becoming a home base for perception beyond the senses. 

    The speaker’s claim is audacious: what is planted in daylight may flower where no one looks. This revelation affirms a metaphysics of hidden abundance, where value accrues without applause. The poem thus ends in confidence: the soul’s garden blooms even while the world sleeps.

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Commemorative Stamp
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Commemorative Stamp

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor”

    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 “Of God we ask one favor”

    Emily Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor” reveals the speaker’s penetrating challenge to inherited guilt, exposing the conflict between imposed religious doctrine and the soul’s natural freedom and joy.

    Introduction and Text of “Of God we ask one favor”

    Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor” represents an elegant and gentle critique of religious orthodoxy. Written in a single, eight-line stanza with alternating meters, the work employs a characteristic ABCBDEFE rime scheme, leaning gently on near rime to evoke an quaint feeling of theological movement and spiritual struggling.

    Through this innovative structure, the speaker establishes an intimate dialogue with the divine, questioning the premise of original sin. By questioning the justice of some vague transgression, the speaker rejects the standard dogmas of her contemporary New England culture.

    Instead of accepting hereditary guilt, she prefers to seek truth through her own quiet meditation, unveiling the complex strain caused by a doctrine that commands humans to apologize for a crime they may not be yet able to identify.  On the literal level, the poem is a polite but intimate confrontation with an enigmatic Creator who demands repentance while keeping His creation in the dark.

    Of God we ask one favor

    Of God we ask one favor,
    That we may be forgiven —
    For what, he is presumed to know —
    The Crime, from us, is hidden —
    Immured the whole of Life
    Within a magic Prison
    We reprimand the Happiness
    That too competes with Heaven.

    Commentary on “Of God we ask one favor”

    This profound work analyzes the psychological impairment wrought by orthodox dogmas that prioritize guilt over original, natural joy, a position many hardline clergy adopted to keep the rabble in tow.

    First Movement: “Of God we ask one favor”

    Of God we ask one favor,
    That we may be forgiven

    The opening movement immediately establishes a tone of polite petition, yet it carries a sharp, underlying irony. The speaker addresses the Sovereign of the universe with a single, humble request for forgiveness.  This initial posture mimics the traditional stance of a devout believer seeking absolution from a merciful Creator.

    However, the simplicity of the request acts as a rhetorical setup for the philosophical strike that follows. In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s frequent adoption of a mask of conventional piety only to dismantle orthodox certainties from within.  By reducing the human relationship with God to “one favor,” the speaker exposes the transaction as transactional and inherently unbalanced.

    This initial petition sets a dramatic stage where the speaker pretends to seek grace while actually preparing to question the absolute justice of so-called divine law.  The request for forgiveness is presented not as a joyful redemption, but as an ongoing, exhausting obligation imposed upon humanity.

    Through this subtle opening, the speaker invites the reader to reconsider whether a relationship built solely on perpetual begging for mercy can ever lead to true, liberating spiritual fulfillment.

    Second Movement: “For what, he is presumed to know”

    For what, he is presumed to know —
    The Crime, from us, is hidden —

    In the second movement, the speaker delivers a devastating critique of original sin. By stating that the specific transgression is “hidden” from humanity, she mocks the idea of inherited, ancestral guilt.  The divine authority is “presumed” to know the nature of this mysterious infraction, yet he leaves his children in total ignorance.

    This lack of spiritual clarity breeds a deep sense of alienation and psychological imprisonment. It is impossible to truly repent for a misdeed that one cannot comprehend or remember.  The speaker points out the glaring problem of expecting a creature to beg for mercy without knowing what offense was actually committed.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s refusal to accept any theology that violates human reason and natural justice.  She exposes a deity who acts as an arbitrary judge, enforcing laws that remain hidden from those who are subject to his daily, severe rulings.

    In his writings, Paramahansa Yogananda explains that God does not wish for human beings to wander in the darkness of delusion, but rather to realize their inherent divinity.  Genuine spiritual life should be based on direct perception and soul-knowledge, rather than on blind obedience to a hidden, fearful indictment.

    Third Movement: “Immured the whole of Life”

    Immured the whole of Life
    Within a magic Prison

    The third movement introduces the brilliant, haunting image of the “magic Prison.” The speaker describes the human condition on earth as being permanently walled in or “immured” from birth until death.  This prison is deemed “magic” because its walls are invisible, constructed of theological dogmas, superstitions, and the hypnotic illusions of material existence.

    Within this confinement, humanity remains trapped, unable to experience the boundless freedom of the soul. The walls of this psychological cell are reinforced by teachings that emphasize guilt, sin, and spiritual unworthiness.  Through this metaphor, the speaker laments how organized religion turns the beautiful canvas of earthly existence into a dark, restrictive dungeon.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker views that the human mind is a complex laboratory of consciousness that can either liberate or entrap the self (soul).  When trapped by false, dogmatic beliefs, the mind easily succumbs to a paralyzing sense of spiritual exile and perpetual captivity.

    Offering a direct way out of this psychological confinement, Paramahansa Yogananda explains that the great masters are “diamond mentalities” who provide the direct exit “from the prison of limitations” to divine liberation.  Through deep meditation one can transcend this magic prison and realize the soul’s natural, ever-free state.

    Fourth Movement: “We reprimand the Happiness”

    We reprimand the Happiness
    That too competes with Heaven

    The final movement addresses the negative consequence of living inside this dogmatic, magic prison. Because humanity is taught to view itself as inherently sinful, people learn to actively suppress and “reprimand” their own natural, earthly joy.

    They fear that experiencing happiness in the present moment somehow insults or competes with the promised joys of the hereafter.  This false dichotomy between earthly pleasure and heavenly salvation forces individuals to deny the goodness of the present world.

    The speaker highlights the complex irony of a faith that requires the rejection of life’s natural blessings as a prerequisite for gaining a distant, hypothetical paradise after death.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s championing the ecstatic beauty found in the simple, immediate details of nature and human emotion.

    To deny this beauty in favor of a rigid, cold theology is to commit a true crime against the soul’s natural instincts.  Refuting the idea that true joy must be postponed or feared, Paramahansa Yogananda explains that “Divine Joy outlasts everything.”

    Instead of reprimanding happiness, humanity must realize that true, everlasting joy is its divine birthright, which it can experience here and now through direct communion with the Infinite.