Linda's Literary Home

Tag: poetry

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

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Could live – did live”

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

    Introduction and Text of “Could live – did live”

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

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

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

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

    Could live – did live

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

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

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

    Commentary on “Could live – did live”

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

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

    First Stanza:  Conditional Speculation

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Stanza:  Remaining Conditional

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

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

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

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

    First Movement:  A Cry of Consternation

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  The Potential for Winning

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

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  A Pride of Being

    From marshallings as simple
    The flags of nations swang.

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

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

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

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

    Fourth Movement:  The Soul’s Victory

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

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

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

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

    Obsolete Usage: “Swang”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I like to see it lap the Miles

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

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

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

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

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

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

    First Stanza:  What the Speaker Likes

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

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

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

    Second Stanza:  First Blush Inaccurate

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

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

    Third Stanza:  What No Animal Can Do

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

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

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

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

    Fourth Stanza:  Biblical Allusion

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

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

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

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

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

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet https://www.amherst.edu/library/archives/holdings/edickinson

    Emily Dickinson’s “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

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

    Introduction and Text of “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

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

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

    It sifts from Leaden Sieves

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

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

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

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

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

    Commentary on “It sifts from Leaden Sieves”

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

    First Stanza:  The Opening Metaphor

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

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

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

    Second Stanza:  A Kitchen Metaphor

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

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

    Third Stanza:  Moving Outdoors

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

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

    Fourth Stanza:  A Substance That Seems Ubiquitous 

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

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

    Fifth Stanza:  The Sifting Powder Made Plain

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

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

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

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

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet https://www.amherst.edu/library/archives/holdings/edickinson

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

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

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

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

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

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

    By such and such an offering

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

    Commentary on “By such and such an offering”

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

    First Movement:  The Undeclared

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  Completed Mystery

    The web of life woven –
    So martyrs albums show!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Snow flakes”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Snow flakes”

    Emily Dickinson’s speaker in this jaunty little poem dramatizes an effusion of emotion after becoming enthralled by watching the many machinations of snowflakes as they dance their way through the air before landing on their targets of earthly entities. 

    Introduction and Text of “Snow flakes”

    In Thomas Johnson’s The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, the text I use for these commentaries, the poem, “Snow flakes.,” appears to be the only poem with a title.  However, one might reasonably argue that the seeming title cannot be considered a true  title.  

    In none of the other poems—1,775 in all—does a title grace and define.  That any poet would appear so consistent and then offer such an anomaly should raise the doubt that only one poem out of close to two thousand has a title.  There are three reasons for doubting that the poem has a title and therefore realizing that the so-called title functions very differently from most titles. 

    First, the noun “snowflake” is one word, and Dickinson has clearly written two words, and that act converts the one word to a sentence. A snowflake is a piece of snow that has “flaked off” from a larger entity; thus “snow flakes.” Because of the fact that “Snow flakes.” looks like a sentence, it is wise to think of it as a sentence or first line of the poem, and not a title.

    Second, that form of the so-called title itself demonstrates that the title is indeed merely the first line of the poem, “Snow flakes.”  The period at the end—along with the fact that there are two words—indicates a sentence.  

    Emily Dickinson was a voracious reader, and she was well aware that titles contain no end punctuation.  And although she did engage in innovative capitalization, punctuation, and techniques employing the use of space and dash, there is no reason to assume that she would title one poem out 1,775, and deliberately make the title look like an ordinary sentence. 

    Three, by beginning with an act, claiming that “snow flakes,” the speaker is heralding the very active “dance” that she creates as she personifies the snowflakes as ballerinas.  Even though Johnson has placed, “Snow flakes.,” in the position which a title would occupy, I suggest that the proper form would simply place the line as the first line of the poem. 

    I do admit that the hand-written copy of “Snow flakes.” appears to center the line, still the spacing between the line and the rest of the poem is comparable to the remaining  lines of the poem.

    Riddle Poem?  Maybe Not

    “Snow flakes” seems to have been intended to function as one of Emily Dickinson’s riddle poems, but it may be that she decided to add the first line because that poem might have remained unintelligible as a riddle.  Readers may not be able to understand that this poem is speaking about flakes of snow without the poet offering that first line.  

    Unlike her obvious riddles that do not name the object such as “It sifts from Leaden Sieves” and “I like to see it lap the Miles,” this one would offer too many other possibilities to function as a workable riddle-poem, thus the addition of the first line, which can be mistaken for a title.

    Snow flakes

    Snow flakes.
    I counted till they danced so
    Their slippers leaped the town,
    And then I took a pencil
    To note the rebels down.
    And then they grew so jolly
    I did resign the prig,
    And ten of my once stately toes
    Are marshalled for a jig!

    Commentary on “Snow flakes”

    Observing fakes of snow create in the speaker’s mind a phantasmagoric dance with myriad ballerinas competing for visual attention. 

    First Movement:  Dancing Snow Ballerinas

    Snow flakes.
    I counted till they danced so
    Their slippers leaped the town,

    The speaker begins with the odd claim that snow can be perceived as breaking into little pieces or “flakes”; she likely wants the reader to take the term “flakes” as both a noun and a verb—a pun of sorts.  

    This kind of function can often be detected in Dickinson’s poems; she quite frequently employs one part of speech to function as another or both, as in “The Soul selects her own Society” where in the lines, “To her divine Majority – Present no more,” the word “Present” functions both as an adjective and a verb in the imperative mood.

    The speaker then begins the report of her activity.  She is observing flakes of snow falling, likely just outside her window, and she begins to count them.  She continues to count the flakes, and suddenly she realizes that they seem to be dancing.  

    It then occurs to her that they are like ballerinas, so she personifies the flake placing “slippers” on the imagined feet, and she is off to the races!  Those ballerinas are performing their dance, as they are leaping and bounding all over town.

    Second Movement:  Capturing the Scene

    And then I took a pencil
    To note the rebels down.

    At this point, watching the dancing snow flakes that have become countless graceful ballerinas in her imaginative mind, she then grabs “a pencil” to take notes on their movements.  Of course, she is referring to taking notes for a poem about what she is observing. 

    She calls the dancers “rebels”; they seem to rebel against any way of describing them.  Thought after thought is passing through her mind, and she has to grab that writing instrument and begin to capture some of those quickly passing images.

    Poets sometimes feel that a poem writes itself, but only if the poet can capture the words in time, for so often, an image will present itself only to be lost to the next rapidly occurring image.  

    Most writers keep writing equipment—paper and pen, nowadays computer tablets—in case some graceful ideas clothed in beautiful, meaningful language come dancing across the writer’s mental vision.

    Third Movement:  Overwhelmed by Jolly Dancers

    And then they grew so jolly
    I did resign the prig, 

    As the speaker continues to take notes and watch those dancers, they become “so jolly” that she feels that they are becoming downright decadent in their outlandish flurry.  Because of this decadence, she finds she has to discontinue this observation; likely she is feeling overwhelmed trying to take account of those millions of dancers.  

    If one tries to imagine a ballet stage with millions of ballerinas all competing for one’s attention, one gets the idea of how the speaker felt watching and trying to see each dancing snowflake.

    Fourth Movement:  Itching to Dance

    And ten of my once stately toes
    Are marshalled for a jig!

    The priggish or intrusively haughty nature of such a phantasmagoria stops the speaker from her fitful attempt to capture all the machinations of this metaphoric ballet; thus, she lays down her pencil, likely gives a sigh, but then an odd things occurs.  She notices that her own toes are hankering to imitate that dance that the speaker has just observed and described.  

    The speaker’s toes were “once stately,” remaining dignified and stationary in her shoes, but now they are becoming as rebellious as those dancing snow flakes; they want the speaker to get up and engage them in a dance.  They want to commit to a “jig,” having been prompted by all those flaking snow ballerinas.

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

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose”

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

    Introduction with Text of “Nobody knows this little Rose”

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

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

    Nobody knows this little Rose

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

    Commentary on “Nobody knows this little Rose”

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

    First Movement:  Lamentation for the Unknown

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  Only Missing

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  The Ease of Dying

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

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

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

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

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

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed”

    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 taste a liquor never brewed”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed” is one of her most enthralling little poems.  In this poem, the speaker is likening spiritual ardor to drunkenness.

    Introduction and Text of  “I taste a liquor never brewed”

    The theme of Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed” is similar to Paramahansa Yogananda’s chant: “I will sing thy Name,  I will drink thy Name, and get all drunk, O, with thy Name!”   

    Dickinson’s speaker proclaims a spiritual consciousness. The poem extends the metaphor of drunkenness to describe the status of a soul in mystical union with the Divine.

    Dickinson’s speaker in “I taste a liquor never brewed” describes a consciousness steeped in a mystical state that mimics inebriation. She is inspired and enthralled seemingly just by breathing the air around her.  

    The speaker’s consciousness becomes aware of itself and propels her into an immense universe that is difficult to describe. Thus she uses the alcohol metaphor to approximate the physical sensation of what she is experiencing spiritually.

    Thomas H. Johnson numbered this poem #214 in his useful work, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, which restored Dickinson’s peculiar punctuation and elliptical style. As usual, Dickinson employed slant rime or near rime; for example, she rimes Pearl and Alcohol.

    I taste a liquor never brewed

    I taste a liquor never brewed –
    From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
    Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
    Yield such an Alcohol!

    Inebriate of Air – am I –
    And Debauchee of Dew –
    Reeling – thro endless summer days –
    From inns of Molten Blue –

    When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
    Out of the Foxglove’s door –
    When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” –
    I shall but drink the more!

    Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats –
    And Saints – to windows run –
    To see the little Tippler
    Leaning against the – Sun —

    Commentary on “I taste a liquor never brewed”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I taste a liquor never brewed” is one of the poet’s most enthralling little poems, employing the metaphor of drunkenness to describe spiritual ardor.

    Stanza 1:  Imbibing a Non-Brewed Beverage

    I taste a liquor never brewed –
    From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
    Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
    Yield such an Alcohol!

    The speaker announces that she has been imbibing a drink, but that beverage is not one that has been brewed, which eliminates alcohol, tea, and coffee, this is, the beverages which have mind-altering capabilities.  She then begins an extended metaphor, likening the effect of her “liquor” to that of an alcoholic beverage.

    The “Tankards scooped in Pearl” simulate the vessels from which the speaker has been imbibing her rare concoction. The consciousness which the speaker wishes to describe transcends the physical consciousness of an alcohol hum; thus the speaker must resort to metaphor to communicate as nearly as possible this ineffable state.

    Those rare tankards having been “scooped in Pearl” spiritually correspond to the nature of the soul. She has, in fact, drunk a beverage that has not been brewed from a vessel that has not been manufactured by human hands.

    Stanza 2: It Resembles Being Drunk

    Inebriate of Air – am I –
    And Debauchee of Dew –
    Reeling – thro endless summer days –
    From inns of Molten Blue –

    Dickinson’s speaker continues her metaphor by revealing that the feeling she is experiencing is like being drunk on air; thus the act of simply taking a breath of air has the power to intoxicate her. 

    Not only air, but the “Dew” has this delicious effect. Further physical realities like a summer day make her feel that she has been drinking at a tavern, “Inns of Molten Blue.” All this imbibing leaves her “reeling” from this rare form of intoxicant.

    Stanza 3:  A Drunken State That Never Ceases

    When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
    Out of the Foxglove’s door –
    When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” –
    I shall but drink the more!

    On the stage of nature, the speaker is accompanied by “bees and butterflies,” and these fellow creatures quite literally imbibe nectar from flowers. The speaker’s brand of liquor has an advantage over that of the bees.  They have to stop their imbibing and leave their blossoms or else they will become trapped as the petals close up for the night.  

    But because of the spiritual nature of this speaker’s intoxication, she does not have stop drinking. She can enjoy her drunken state without end.   Only on the physical plane do activities begin and end; on the spiritual plane, the intoxication has no need to cease. The eternal soul is without boundaries of space and time.

    Stanza 4;  The Dash That Runs to Eternity

    Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats –
    And Saints – to windows run –
    To see the little Tippler
    Leaning against the – Sun –

    The speaker boasts that she will never have to curtail her mode of mystical intoxication. As the penultimate stanza ends with the claim, “I shall but drink the more!,” the idea continues into the final stanza.  By placing the time of her stopping her drinking at two fantastic events that will never occur, she emphatically asserts that she will never have to stop her drinking binge.

    When the highest order of angels, the “Seraphs,” commit the unlikely act of “swing[ing] their snowy Hats,” and curious saints run to windows, only then shall she cease her imbibing. That time is never because Seraphs and saints do not comport themselves with such behavior. 

    The speaker calls herself “the little Tippler” and positions herself “[l]eaning against the — Sun.” Another impossible act on the physical level, but one quite possible on the mystical.

    The final clue that the speaker is asserting her ability never to stop drinking of the mystical wine is the final punctuation of the dash — that concludes her report. The period, question mark, or exclamation mark, as some editors have employed, denote finality while the dash does not.

    Thomas H. Johnson has restored the dash — to this poem in his The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. When other versions lose the Dickinsonian dash, they also lose a nuance of her meaning.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”

    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 “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”

    Emily Dickinson’s “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir” features prominently a surprising demand of the Divine Belovèd Creator. The Dickinsonian speaker always holds in great reverence and regard the Creator of the cosmic universe and all of earthly nature.

    Introduction with Text of “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”

    Emily Dickinson’s poem, “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,” demonstrates the poet’s depth of scientific knowledge of the world as well as her insight into the spiritual significance that such scientific knowledge implies for human evolution.

    The poem features prominently a surprising demand of the Divine Belovèd Creator. The Dickinsonian speaker always holds in great reverence and regard the Creator of the cosmic universe and all of earthly nature. 

    She dramatizes in poetic form her physical world observations to reveal her awareness of the Divine Creator’s existence both within the natural world and outside of that natural world, extending into the realm of spirit.

    The octave is structured by a “when-then” time sequence: when one thing happens, then the other may be expected to happen or may be desired to happen. In this poem, the structure adds a complex sub-feature to the equation. 

    Not only is the speaker offering a “when” structure that encompasses three natural phenomena of plant and animal kingdom activity, but she is also adding a third element from the human realm to the “when” clause.

    The speaker has thus inserted herself into the narrative in an unobtrusive way through the employment of the synecdochic”hand.” After setting up the “when” application, she engages her own action and then offers the second half of the “when-then” function. 

    That “then” application, however, delivers a subtle demand of the Belovèd Creator—one that may at first appear somewhat shocking but yet remains comprehensible and infinitely appropriate.

    When Roses cease to bloom, Sir

    When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
    And Violets are done –
    When Bumblebees in solemn flight
    Have passed beyond the Sun –
    The hand that paused to gather
    Upon this Summer’s day
    Will idle lie – in Auburn –
    Then take my flowers – pray!

    “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir” rendered in song  

    Commentary on “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”

    Emily Dickinson’s “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir” demonstrates the poet’s depth of knowledge of the science of the evolutionary progress, as well as her insight into the spiritual significance that such knowledge suggests for the human mind and heart on its path through evolutionary advancement.

    First Movement:  Emphasis on Beauty

    When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
    And Violets are done –

    The speaker begins the “when” function by addressing the Divine Ineffable Reality.  She suggests that she will be asking for some favor after flowers have come and gone.   She allows “Roses” and “Violets” to represent all natural vegetation, which would include all plants growing in the fields, along the streets, and in her own vegetable garden.  

    By allowing only two lovely flowers to represent all of the plant kingdom, the speaker is demonstrating her emphasis on her love of beauty.   The speaker then demonstrates that she is including both domesticated plants—roses, and those that continue to grow wild—violets.  

    The Blessèd Author of creation as well as the speaker’s listeners/readers are invited to observe that the speaker keeps her mind firmly on her goal, her own creation of beauty and engagement in health and wholesomeness.

    Second Movement:  Evolution from Plant to Animal

    When Bumblebees in solemn flight
    Have passed beyond the Sun –

    The speaker then turns to the animal kingdom, allowing the simple bumblebee to represent that kingdom.  The “Bumblebees” have engaged in “solemn flight” and like the roses and violets are now passing out of existence.  

    Unlike the rose that “cease[s] to bloom” and the violet whose passing out of existence is qualified as merely “done,” the bee, an evolutionarily higher-stationed member of the animal kingdom, “pass[es] beyond the Sun.”  

    The speaker makes the distinction between the two kingdoms in this marvelously ingenious way–how they cease their summer sojourn.   As flowers simply pass away by simple cessation, the bees have engaged in the physical act of moving, which is denied plants rooted to the earth; thus, the speaker creates the bees’ metaphorical passing beyond light.  

    Even though the souls of all those creatures remain distinct entities in the mind of their Creator, they express in very different ways according to their current incarnation on earth, representative of their individual and collective karma.  It is only natural that the higher evolved bee would demonstrate an ability beyond that of the lower plant world.  

    And the speaker’s ability to place this distinction in such a minimalist setting demonstrates this speaker’s understanding regarding the existence of the hierarchy to which earthly creatures remain attached until their final liberation.   All created beings must pass through this hierarchical system on their way from lowest to highest form on the evolutionary scale.

    Third Movement:  The Human in Creation

    The hand that paused to gather
    Upon this Summer’s day

    The speaker has now quit her focus on the plant and animal kingdoms and is focusing on the simple human feature of a “hand,” a synecdochic representative of the human physical encasement.  

    That hand pauses.  Instead of moving to pluck and collect those flowers before they are gone, this hand leaves them in place.  Instead of shooing away the bees, the speaker simply takes the measure of their movement, while fashioning the observation that distinguishes the flowers from the bees. 

    All summer long, the speaker has observed the bees extracting nectar from the flowers.    The relationship between the flowers and the nectar-gathering bees has impressed upon the mind of the speaker the symbiotic relationship that exists in nature and that extends to the human being as an integral part of that natural scenario.

    But the speaker now holds her request of the Divine Creator until she has described her own situation, her own participation in the drama that she has created in the garden of her mind, heart, and soul.  

    Her poetic garden contains multitudes, and the ability to grow metaphorical, metaphysical flowers, bees, human hands remains her greatest challenge and strongest ability.

    Fourth Movement:  The Metaphysical Garden of Verse

    Will idle lie – in Auburn –
    Then take my flowers – pray!

    That human hand that pauses does so to continue its construction of her own metaphysical, poetic creation—that original garden into which she had early on invited her brother to visit.  

    After that hand becomes “idle,” it will cease creating those metaphysical flowers and those metaphysical bees.   Therefore, the speaker then demands of the Belovèd “Sir” that He “take [her] flowers”—adding for emphasis, “pray!”  

    After the speaker herself has ceased blooming and flying beyond the sun and pausing from the labor of metaphorical, metaphysical garden creation, her physical form will exist like a bug in amber and become unresponsive and “lie – in Auburn.”   Thus, the clever speaker is requesting through a strong demand that the Divine Gardener accept her metaphysical flowers.  

    Such a demand may seem infinitely cheeky of a mere created child of the Master Creator of the Cosmos, but the speaker has demonstrated repeatedly that she remains steadfast in her devotion and confident in her ability to create flowers—offerings—that are acceptable to a most discriminating Divine Creator.

  • 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.