Linda's Literary Home

Tag: poetry

  • Lucille Clifton’s “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989”

    Image 1:  Lucille Clifton  https://www.thefamouspeople.com/profiles/lucille-clifton-3379.php  The Famous People
    Image 1:  Lucille Clifton    The Famous People

    Lucille Clifton’s “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989”

    In Lucille Clifton’s unconventionally capitalized titled poem “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989,” the speaker offers a lament that dramatizes the omission of the mention of slavery during a tour the poet took of Walnut Grove Plantation in South Carolina in 1989.

    Introduction with the Text from “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989”

    The United States of America in the twenty-first century has become replete with attempts to abolish history [1].  Examples include removing statues of noted individuals such as Frederick Douglass [2], and many others [3], changing names of public buildings, colleges, and streets [4].   

    Poet Lucille Clifton encountered a situation that had attempted to abolish history, and she was greatly offended by that attempt—so offended that she wrote this poem about this issue!  Clifton has remarked, “You see, we cannot ignore history. History doesn’t go away. The past isn’t back there, the past is here too.”  

    After being asked, “Is it part of poetry’s job to recover history, to proclaim it, and to correct it when necessary?,” she responded, “Yes. All that may be needed is that the injustice in the world be mentioned so that nobody can ever say, ‘Nobody told me’.”

    W. H. Auden once quipped in his tribute poem, “In Memory of W. B. Yeats” [5], “Poetry makes nothing happen.”  However, sometimes in quiet ways that may snowball into movements, poetry may be able to start the ball rolling, and one might hope that Clifton’s little verse may serve to save history lessons from disappearance.

    at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989

    among the rocks
    at walnut grove
    your silence drumming
    in my bones,
    tell me your names.

    nobody mentioned slaves
    and yet the curious tools
    shine with your fingerprints.
    nobody mentioned slaves
    but somebody did this work
    who had no guide, no stone,
    who moulders under rock.

    tell me your names,
    tell me your bashful names
    and I will testify.

    the inventory lists ten slaves
    but only men were recognized    .

    among the rocks
    at walnut grove
    some of these honored dead
    were dark
    some of these dark
    were slaves
    some of these slaves
    were women
    some of them did this honored work.
    tell me your names
    foremothers, brothers,
    tell me your dishonored names.

    here lies
    here lies
    here lies
    here lies
    hear

    Reading:  Lucille Clifton reading her poem, “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989” 

    Commentary on “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989”

    This poem is voicing its plaintive lament that there was no mention of slavery during a tour the poet took of Walnut Grove Plantation in South Carolina in 1989.  The omission is particularly galling because the place is a plantation in the South.  

    The history of such a place would be replete with information about that heinous institution.  Simply ignoring an issue because it is unpleasant can do more harm than good.  No problem was ever solved by ignoring it.

    First Stanza:  Addressing a Ghost-Like Presence

    among the rocks
    at walnut grove
    your silence drumming
    in my bones,
    tell me your names.

    In “at the cemetery, walnut grove plantation, south carolina, 1989,” the speaker addresses the ghost-like presences of the imagined slaves about which she knows nothing. 

    She is convinced that there had to be slaves on this large plantation that was thriving in the early nineteenth century.   She dramatically claims that the silence of the slaves was “drumming / in [her] bones.”   And she asks them to “tell [her] [their] names.”

    Second Stanza:   Intuiting a Presence

    nobody mentioned slaves
    and yet the curious tools
    shine with your fingerprints.
    nobody mentioned slaves
    but somebody did this work
    who had no guide, no stone,
    who moulders under rock.

    The speaker has likely come to take the plantation tour hoping to get a sense of the slaves that she believed worked there.  She fancies that even though the tour guide has never mentioned slaves, she feels that she is intuiting their presence.  Even though she did not hear the word “slave,” the very tools that are present seem to testify that slave left their fingerprints on them.  

    Since “somebody” had to have done that work, she reasons that it had to be the slaves. The owners of the plantation, Charles and Mary Moore, had ten children; those “fingerprints” may also be from those children who likely also worked on the plantation.  Still, the speaker’s intuition allows her to create her speculative drama as she assumes that those slaves now “moulder[ ] under rock.” 

    Third Stanza:  Who Are You?

    tell me your names,
    tell me your bashful names
    and I will testify.

    The speaker then begs the ghosts to tell her their names, and she “will testify” for them. Her testimony may not be thorough, but as least it is more than the nothing at all she is receiving from this historically filtered tour.

    If the slaves existed, they lived and worked as such. Perhaps, she wishes simply to cite their names, which is an admirable thought, despite the impossibility of ever knowing those names. 

    Fourth Stanza:  Proof of Their Existence

    the inventory lists ten slaves
    but only men were recognized    .

    The speaker then reports that the list of “inventory” did mention ten male slaves.  This possible factoid affords the female speaker another issue over which to express indignation: that the female slaves are not even listed as inventoried property.

    Fifth Stanza:  Slaves in the Cemetery

    among the rocks
    at walnut grove
    some of these honored dead
    were dark
    some of these dark
    were slaves
    some of these slaves
    were women
    some of them did this honored work.
    tell me your names
    foremothers, brothers,
    tell me your dishonored names.

    The speaker then muses that in the cemetery some of those buried must be slaves, and, of course, some of those slaves were women. They all did “honored work.” Again, the speaker demands of the imagined ghostly presences that they reveal their names. 

    They were “foremothers, brothers,” and she wants to know their “dishonored names.” They are “dishonored” because the speaker does not know their names and has no hope of finding out exactly who they were.  While revision of historical facts remains an abomination, total erasure from the historical record is even worse.

    Sixth Stanza:  Who Lies Buried Here?

    here lies
    here lies
    here lies
    here lies
    hear

    The final five lines of the poem repeat the line “here lies” four times and ends with “hear.” She would like to add a name to each line, but since she is unable to do so, she offers one last command: she wants them to “hear” that she would honor them if she could. 

    Sources

    [1] Annie Holmquist. “Abolishing History From the Classroom Is What Got Us Into This Mess.”  The Epoch Times.  August 17, 2020.

    [2] Dinesh D’Souza.  “Removal of Frederick Douglass Statue.”  YouTube.  Accessed February 23, 2023.

    [3]  Rachel Scully and James Bikales.  “A List of the Statues across the US Toppled, Vandalized or Officially Removed amid Protests.”  The Hill.  June 12, 2020.

    [4]  Susie Marcus.  “Naming, Renaming, and Rethinking History.”  Classroom Law Project.  March 6, 2018.

    [5]  W. H. Auden.  “In Memory of W. B. Yeats.”  Poets.org.  Accessed February 23, 2023.

    Lucille Clifton on Writing This Poem

    —from an interview with Bill Moyers

    CLIFTON: Well, let me tell you what happened with that poem. I went to Walnut Grove Plantation in South Carolina in 1989 and I was the only person of color on the tour. It’s a wonderful two thousand acres, but on the tour there was no mention of slaves. The plantation had the original furniture, and the guide talked about the difficulty of the work for a small family, but there was no mention of slavery. Now I’m very nosy–I want to know everything when I travel to give readings, all the gossip, everything. I like to know what happened here, so I always ask about the people who were here before these people? And then the uncomfortable question always is “Where are they now?”

    Well, Walnut Grove Plantation has the family burying ground, and on the sides of the roped-off path leading to that burying ground there are crosses and rocks and other things sitting on edge that to me clearly mark the graves of slaves. So I asked, “Why don’t you mention slaves?” The first answer was “Maybe the guide didn’t want to embarrass you.” “Well,” I said, “I’m not a slave. I don’t know why he would think I’d be embarrassed.” Then I asked again, and the answer was, “Maybe they didn’t have any.” Well, they had two thousand acres in South Carolina in the early part of the nineteenth century. Be serious!

    When I suggested that the guide check the inventory–because slaves were considered property and were often inventoried–they discovered that the plantation had an inventory of ten slaves, but they might have had more because women weren’t counted. Now, well, I had to find out about that! I mean, some things say, hey, like “No!” Then when I learned that the women were not considered valuable enough to inventory, I definitely wanted to write about that.

    MOYERS: What do you want the readers to do at the end of the poem when you change the word “here” to “hear”?

    CLIFTON: I want them to recognize that only half the truth was being told. At that time schoolchildren were taken there on field trips to Walnut Grove, and half the children in the town were denied the knowledge that their ancestors had helped to build that plantation. That is unjust, and I’m into justice big-time.

    I read that poem in South Carolina a lot, and someone in the audience–I think she was the director of the group which has restored the plantation–wrote me a letter saying that she just didn’t realize. Two years ago they began building a model slave cabin, and now they are going to include all the people who lived there in the tour. So that’s one poem doing something, making a difference. Then once when I did a reading at the nearby town a woman came up and told me that her family had owned Walnut Grove, but she had never gone back—she was ashamed—so I said the next time I come here, we must go together. You see, we cannot ignore history. History doesn’t go away. The past isn’t back there, the past is here too.

    MOYERS: Is it part of poetry’s job to recover history, to proclaim it, and to correct it when necessary?

    CLIFTON: Yes. All that may be needed is that the injustice in the world be mentioned so that nobody can ever say, “Nobody told me.”

  • Turtle Woman

    Image created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem
    Image created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem

    Turtle Woman

    “When the yogi, like a tortoise withdrawing its limbs, can fully retire his senses from the objects of perception, his wisdom manifests steadiness.” —Bhagavad Gita II:58

    Will you still love me if I finish first?

    Slow as I am to you whose speed is your god, I move.
    Admiring really your shell-less existence—
    On my back it’s sometimes hard to right myself.
    In the soup they call me a delicacy,
    So I praise vegetarians,
    Though I myself sometimes snap
    At insects, small fish, & moving fingers.

    But what’s a creature so heavy-laden to do?

    O, lest I sound maudlin
    Or sorry for my webbed feet,
    I withdraw my questions
    Along with my head & legs
    And drop out of your race.

    —from Turtle Woman & Other Poems

  • Lucille Clifton’s “homage to my hips”

    Image:  Lucille Clifton https://www.britannica.com/biography/Lucille-Clifton  Britannica
    Image:  Lucille Clifton – Britannica

    Lucille Clifton’s “homage to my hips”

    Lucille Clifton has composed a delightfully funny and entertaining poem about the unlikely subject of big hips. While most ladies feel less than full of pride for a big rear end, Clifton’s speaker gleams with pride over her wide bottom.  The speaker has nothing but praise for her huge keister.

    Introduction with Text of “homage to my hips”

    The speaker in Lucille Clifton’s hilarious little ditty is gloating about an unlikely target for gloat—the physical feature that many woman would prefer to hide.  But this speaker is filled with pride about her possession of a huge set of hips; thus, she colorfully and insistently flaunts those “magic” hips.

    Lucille Clifton’s style is unique.  She has no compunction about keeping her letters all in lower case.   Often in the hands of much less talented craftsman, such a departure from traditional grammar/mechanics looks like mere showing off or trying to put forth the rebel- without-a-cause attitude, as the verse then cannot support that departure.  

    But Clifton’s unusual enjambment also works well, while in the hands of a poetaster the same attempt at odd line breaks merely disrupts meaning while demonstrating immaturity and amateurishness.

    homage to my hips 

    these hips are big hips
    they need space to
    move around in.
    they don’t fit into little
    petty places. these hips
    are free hips.
    they don’t like to be held back.
    these hips have never been enslaved,  
    they go where they want to go
    they do what they want to do.
    these hips are mighty hips.
    these hips are magic hips.
    i have known them
    to put a spell on a man and
    spin him like a top!

    Commentary on “homage to my hips”

    In Lucille Clifton’s “homage to my hips,” a big-hipped woman celebrates the size of her big bottom.  She elucidates her pride of size in her colorful little drama, revealing her satisfaction with the humble yet significant pride-showing word “homage.”  

    One almost wants to think of the title as “homage to my big hips,” but Lucille had the foresight to allow the reader to discover the reason for that “homage” after experiencing the poem itself.

    First Movement:  Big -Hipped and Proud 

    these hips are big hips
    they need space to
    move around in.
    they don’t fit into little
    petty places.

    The speaker begins with the provocative statement, “these hips are big hips.”  Such audacity would take the wind out of the sails of any name-calling huckster who would try to make this speaker’s rump the butt of any joke.  

    This woman is proud her big hips, and her pride is infectious; she plans to crow about her big hips and make people know the importance of her huge posterior.  The speaker then claims that her hips need lots of space “to / move around in.”  She doesn’t just sit on that humongous keister; she moves it around.

    She is an active broad; she’s in your face.  So she demands room to move her behind.  She gives no quarter to anyone who would denigrate her big bottom.

    This speaker will not tolerate anything “little” or “petty.”  She is influenced by her big rear to see all the world as a humungous opportunity to do things, to move around as a big, strong force.   She sees life itself full of space for all things “big” which she has discovered to be a beautiful thing. 

    Second Movement:  Free-Hipped and Profound

    these hips
    are free hips.
    they don’t like to be held back.
    these hips have never been enslaved,  
    they go where they want to go
    they do what they want to do.

    Those big hips cannot squeeze into small spaces.  Those small places are simply too “little” for her, and they represent “petty places” that will not allow the expanse of freedom she demands for herself, her life, and her mind. 

    As her hips are broad, so is her mind.  She will not be limited physically or mentally.  She belongs to the world where profundity reigns.  She brooks no little-minded thinkers.  Her big hips are “free hips.”  They go where they wish, and they do as they please.  

    Those expansive hips are wide as the cosmos.  They have elevated her level of courage.  Enslaved lesser hips and minds can just get out of her way.  She will push her big hips into any place that will accommodate them.  

    She will not allow the mediocre minds to put her in chains.  Her hips will never abide by any restraints; they move where they desire to move and when they desire to move.  They keep on moving; they keep on achieving what her broad mind can imagine. 

    This big-hipped speaker is proud of her accomplishments, and those big hips are a large part of that achievement.  She will sing to her hips as she transcends the limitations that would hem them and her round.  

    This speaker’s world is big like her hips; her mind is even bigger than those big hips.  And she will have everyone take notice.  There will never be a place or a person who can limit this strong woman, whose hips have now become a symbol for her strength, liberation, and determination for success.

    Third Movement:   Magic-Hipped and Glory-Hipped

    these hips are magic hips.
    i have known them
    to put a spell on a man and
    spin him like a top!

    Spreading out in all directions, the mental acuity of this big-hipped woman will not be stopped from accomplishing all the glory, wisdom, and rewards her ability can bring her.  Her hips “do what they want to do.”  

    She cannot be caged or shrunk by social standards.  Thin hips are for small minds, and her mind is big like her hips.  The speaker then hints that those hips have not kept a big fat woman from enjoying sexual experience once thought to belong only to thin, emaciated supermodels.  Her hips are “magic.”  

    They can capture the imagination and attention of any man, and then after they capture the man, they can cause him to succumb to her will.  That spinning-top man comes under spell because of those hips that perform their spell-working.

    The speaker has no compunction about bragging up those big hips. She wants men and women alike to understand that she is proud of that prominent physical feature. 

    This declaration is her protest against smallness in any form—especially when it comes to her bottom.  She gloats about a physical feature that many woman would wish to hide, but she is full of pride about her big keister as she flaunts those spell-binding, “magic” hips.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    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 “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    Emily Dickinson’s “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow” exposes religious hypocrisy and superficial preachment. The poem highlights how boasting of virtues often exposes an absence of genuine spiritual depth.

    Introduction and Text of “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    This short poem focuses sharply on religious phoniness and intellectual pride. The speaker examines a preacher whose grand proclamations create a self-defeating display. Through structured lines and clever slant rime, a clear critique emerges against those who perform righteousness rather than live it.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed issues that poetic craft can unmask artificiality within institutionalized frameworks. This specific work addresses the tragic irony of a minister whose expansive rhetoric shrinks his spiritual reality, showing how pride reduces immense truth to small, rigid dogmas.

    By looking past outer performance, the piece offers a deep invitation to inner authenticity. The speaker challenges religious pretense directly, setting a stage where false holiness fails to stand under close scrutiny.

    He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow

    He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow –
    The Broad are too broad to define
    And of ‘Truth’ until it proclaimed him a Liar –
    The Truth never flaunted a Sign –

    Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
    As Gold the Pyrites would shun –
    What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
    To meet so enabled a Man!

    Commentary on “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    The speaker analyzes religious pretense, showing that excessive rhetoric inevitably collapses into spiritual limitation. This critique highlights the superiority of quiet simplicity over loud, boastful hypocrisy.

    First Stanza: “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow –
    The Broad are too broad to define
    And of ‘Truth’ until it proclaimed him a Liar –
    The Truth never flaunted a Sign –

    The opening lines illustrate a profound theological contradiction. The speaker notes that the preacher talks excessively about tolerance and openness. Yet, this endless talking achieves the opposite effect. 

    It reveals his internal limitations.  By continuously explaining a vast concept, the minister confines it within narrow human parameters. True spiritual vastness cannot be fully captured by mere words. The speaker exposes this vanity clearly.

    The second line emphasizes that immense divine concepts remain completely beyond simple human definitions. True breadth resists rigid categorization. When the preacher attempts to define it, he merely reveals his intellectual arrogance.  The speaker then addresses the concept of ultimate truth. The minister talks so much about it that his very demeanor screams deception. His elaborate speech patterns proclaim him a liar.

    Authentic truth does not require a loud, external declaration or vanity. It exists quietly and purely on its own. The speaker shows that a proud display is always a sign of falsehood.  Engaging in contemplative musing helps readers perceive this subtle dynamic. 

    We see that the divine essence requires no advertisement. It shines naturally through a quiet, humble heart.  Paramahansa Yogananda explains that real spiritual truth must be felt within the soul rather than argued externally. His divine insights remind us that God is realized through silence.

    The perfect rime scheme enhances this message of cosmic balance. The structured lines reflect how nature rejects pretension. The speaker uses these elements to dismantle the preacher’s hollow authority completely.  The preacher’s downfall is his reliance on public recognition. 

    He mistakes loud rhetoric for genuine faith. The speaker masterfully highlights that this outward focus creates an empty, unspiritual shell. This critique stays perfectly aligned with traditional themes of spiritual integrity. True faith remains invisible to a superficial eye. The speaker urges her listeners to seek internal clarity instead.

    Second Stanza: “Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence”

    Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
    As Gold the Pyrites would shun –
    What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
    To meet so enabled a Man!

    The second stanza opens with a striking visual image of immediate rejection. Simplicity actively runs away from the preacher. The speaker calls his entire character a counterfeit presence.  Purity cannot coexist with artificiality or pride. The contrast becomes sharper with the brilliant analogy of gold and pyrites. Real gold naturally separates itself from worthless fool’s gold.

    The preacher resembles pyrites because he shines superficially but possesses no actual value. The speaker uses this comparison to show that spiritual vanity can easily deceive an uncritical observer. True spiritual life requires an unadorned, transparent nature. Through simple observation, one becomes aware that the preacher’s complicated dogmas drive away the pure essence of divine grace.

    The speaker then introduces a powerful comparison involving Jesus the Christ. The text suggests that Christ would feel utter confusion upon meeting such an unnaturally enabled and self-important individual. Jesus represents ultimate humility and simple truth. The minister represents an over-engineered, institutional structure. This sharp juxtaposition highlights the deep chasm between modern religion and true spirituality.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that true religious understanding mirrors the childlike simplicity of Christ. His holy teachings emphasize that intellectual pride blocks real divine communion.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the frequent contrast between pure gospel ideals and corrupt religious leadership. This poem delivers that exact message brilliantly.  The masterfully placed rime underlines the absolute certainty of this spiritual law. Falsehood can never truly blend with truth. 

    The speaker leaves readers with a lasting warning against vanity. Ultimately, the work serves as a timeless guide for genuine seekers. It encourages its listeners to look past decorated pulpits. The speaker points her audience directly toward a quiet, inner temple.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs”

    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 meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” reveals the speaker’s earnest spiritual nature while dramatizing her movement from innocent confidence to wary skepticism regarding the fulfillment of prayer.

    Introduction and Text of “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” consists of six stanzas that trace the speaker’s journey from humble expectation through prayer, apparent heavenly approval, disappointment, and finally mature reflection. The little drama demonstrates the speaker’s ability to mingle gentle humor with profound spiritual inquiry. 

    While the poem entertains with witty irony, it also examines the nature of divine grace, faith, and human expectation. In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s remarkable ability to transform contemplative musing into compelling poetic drama while allowing spiritual questions to remain invitingly open.

    I meant to have but modest needs

    I meant to have but modest needs –
    Such as Content – and Heaven –
    Within my income – these could lie
    And Life and I – keep even –

    But since the last – included both –
    It would suffice my Prayer
    But just for One – to stipulate –
    And Grace would grant the Pair – 

    And so – upon this wise – I prayed –
    Great Spirit – Give to me
    A Heaven not so large as Yours,
    But large enough – for me –

    A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face –
    The Cherubim – withdrew –
    Grave Saints stole out to look at me –
    And showed their dimples – too –

    I left the Place, with all my might –
    I threw my Prayer away –
    The Quiet Ages picked it up –
    And Judgment – twinkled – too –
    That one so honest – be extant –
    It take the Tale for true –
    That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask –
    Itself be given You.”

    But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies
    With a suspicious Air –
    As Children – swindled for the first
    All Swindlers – be – infer –

    Commentary on “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” portrays a speaker whose simple request gradually becomes an exploration of the relationship between divine promise and human understanding.

    First Stanza: “I meant to have but modest needs”

    I meant to have but modest needs –
    Such as Content – and Heaven –
    Within my income – these could lie
    And Life and I – keep even –

    The speaker begins by insisting that her desires remain quite modest. She claims that she seeks only “Content” and “Heaven.” She has no ambition for wealth, fame, or earthly distinction. Her requests appear entirely reasonable because they concern the peace and happiness of the inner life.

    She then introduces a clever commercial metaphor. The expression “Within my income” likens spiritual blessings to purchases that can be made only if one possesses sufficient means. The speaker imagines that contentment and Heaven should lie comfortably within her spiritual resources.

    The phrase “Life and I – keep even” suggests that the speaker expects a balanced relationship between herself and life. She hopes that life will deal fairly with her and that her modest expectations will be met with corresponding generosity.

    Yet the speaker seems to underestimate the magnitude of her request. Although she believes that contentment and Heaven constitute “modest needs,” each remains beyond the reach of material existence. Lasting contentment cannot be secured through worldly conditions, and Heaven belongs entirely to the realm of Spirit.

    The speaker therefore begins with an assumption that appears simple but proves profound. She regards her request as modest because she values spiritual realities above worldly possessions. Ironically, those spiritual realities become the greatest treasures any soul can desire.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that lasting happiness comes from the soul’s communion with the Divine rather than from external circumstances. Dickinson’s speaker has not yet fully realized that truth, but her instinct already directs her toward those eternal blessings that alone can satisfy the human heart.

    Second Stanza: “But since the last – included both”

    But since the last – included both –
    It would suffice my Prayer
    But just for One – to stipulate –
    And Grace would grant the Pair –

    The speaker now refines her thinking. She realizes that if she receives Heaven, she will necessarily receive contentment also. Heaven must include every blessing that the soul genuinely requires. Therefore, instead of asking for two gifts, she need ask for only one.

    Her reasoning remains beautifully logical. If Heaven already contains perfect peace, requesting contentment separately becomes unnecessary. The speaker concludes that Grace will naturally provide both blessings while granting only one petition.

    The speaker also demonstrates complete confidence in divine goodness. She assumes that Grace delights in giving rather than withholding. Nothing in her thinking suggests doubt that the Divine responds lovingly to sincere prayer.

    The simplicity of her reasoning reveals an innocence that has not yet encountered disappointment. She believes that divine promises operate exactly as they appear. Her faith remains uncomplicated by painful experience or lingering uncertainty.

    The stanza quietly prepares readers for the irony that follows. The speaker’s confidence is sincere, but sincere confidence alone cannot answer every spiritual question. The remaining stanzas will test her assumptions while enlarging her understanding.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine wisdom grants what serves the soul’s highest good, even when human beings do not immediately recognize that good. The speaker stands upon the threshold of discovering that the fulfillment of prayer often transcends the expectations of the one who offers it.

    Third Stanza: “And so – upon this wise – I prayed”

    And so – upon this wise – I prayed –
    Great Spirit – Give to me
    A Heaven not so large as Yours,
    But large enough – for me –

    Having reasoned that Heaven embraces every worthy blessing, the speaker proceeds naturally to prayer. Her petition remains strikingly modest. She does not presume to request equality with the Divine but only asks for a portion suited to her own spiritual capacity.

    The expression “Great Spirit” broadens the speaker’s address beyond denominational boundaries while preserving profound reverence. She approaches the Creator with sincerity instead of elaborate ceremony. Her directness reflects confidence that genuine prayer requires honesty more than ornament.

    The request for “A Heaven not so large as Yours” reveals remarkable humility. The speaker acknowledges the immeasurable grandeur of the Divine while recognizing her own finite condition. She seeks neither dominion nor glory, only sufficient spiritual fulfillment to satisfy the soul’s deepest longing.

    Yet the simplicity of the request conceals extraordinary depth. Any authentic Heaven, regardless of size, must partake of eternity. Thus the speaker appears to be asking for that which transcends all earthly limitation. Her modest language veils an infinite aspiration.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that every soul longs to recover its unity with the Infinite because that unity constitutes its true nature. The speaker’s prayer quietly reflects that eternal longing. Although expressed with charming restraint, her petition reaches beyond temporal existence toward lasting spiritual realization.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s tendency to disguise profound metaphysical inquiry beneath conversational language. That technique appears beautifully here. The speaker seems merely to request a comfortable dwelling, while she actually voices the universal desire for permanent union with divine peace.

    Fourth Stanza: “A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face”

    A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face –
    The Cherubim – withdrew –
    Grave Saints stole out to look at me –
    And showed their dimples – too –

    The heavenly response arrives with delightful humor. Rather than thunder, judgment, or solemn pronouncement, the speaker beholds a smile upon Jehovah’s face. The atmosphere immediately becomes one of affection instead of fearful distance.

    Even the Cherubim and Saints participate in the gentle amusement. Their dignified reserve yields to warm delight as they quietly observe the speaker’s earnest request. Dickinson’s customary wit transforms Heaven into a realm where joy naturally accompanies holiness.

    The smiling saints emphasize that genuine sanctity excludes neither kindness nor humor. Their dimples humanize these exalted figures while suggesting that divine wisdom delights in innocent sincerity. The speaker’s prayer has produced no offense. Instead, it awakens heavenly sympathy.

    The speaker herself, however, cannot yet interpret the meaning of those smiles. Are they signs of approval, affectionate indulgence, or recognition that she has asked for more than she realizes? Dickinson wisely leaves that question unresolved, permitting readers their own contemplative musing.

    Paramahansa Yogananda frequently portrays the Divine as infinitely compassionate rather than remote or forbidding. Such a conception harmonizes with the smiling Jehovah. Divine love welcomes the sincere seeker even when that seeker’s understanding remains incomplete.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s remarkable ability to blend reverence with playful imagination. Here, celestial beings remain majestic without sacrificing warmth. The result is a memorable portrait of Heaven as both exalted and intimately accessible.

    Fifth Stanza: “I left the Place, with all my might”

    I left the Place, with all my might –
    I threw my Prayer away –
    The Quiet Ages picked it up –
    And Judgment – twinkled – too –
    That one so honest – be extant –
    It take the Tale for true –
    That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask –
    Itself be given You.”

    The tone shifts dramatically. The speaker departs in haste, casting aside the very prayer she had offered with such confidence. Something has occurred that leaves her unable to retain her former certainty. Innocence begins yielding to painful experience.

    Yet the prayer itself refuses extinction. The “Quiet Ages” preserve it, suggesting that sincere aspiration possesses enduring value regardless of immediate disappointment. Honest petitions continue to live within eternity even when human expectations falter.

    The reference to Judgment “twinkled” tempers solemnity with irony. Dickinson’s speaker avoids portraying divine judgment as harsh condemnation. Instead, it sparkles with knowing wisdom, implying that eternal justice perceives realities hidden from limited human understanding.

    The concluding biblical allusion introduces the central tension. The promise that whatsoever one asks shall be given appears difficult to reconcile with lived experience.  The speaker has encountered the mystery separating literal expectation from spiritual fulfillment.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine response always serves the soul’s highest welfare, even when outward circumstances appear contrary to immediate desire. Such teaching illuminates the speaker’s perplexity. The Divine may answer every sincere prayer, but not always according to human anticipation.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s refusal to abandon spiritual inquiry simply because certainty proves elusive. She preserves intellectual honesty while continuing her contemplative musing. That balance between faith and questioning contributes greatly to the enduring power of Dickinson’s poetry.

    Sixth Stanza: “But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies”

    But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies
    With a suspicious Air –
    As Children – swindled for the first
    All Swindlers – be – infer –

    The final stanza presents a speaker transformed by experience. She now examines the heavens with suspicion rather than unquestioning confidence. The change is neither cynical nor irreverent. Instead, it reflects the caution that often accompanies spiritual maturity.

    The comparison with children deceived for the first time offers poignant psychological insight. Young minds frequently generalize from one painful disappointment, imagining universal deception where only partial misunderstanding exists. The speaker recognizes that tendency within herself.

    Her admission reveals admirable candor. Rather than disguising uncertainty beneath conventional piety, she acknowledges the struggle to reconcile faith with experience. Such honesty strengthens rather than diminishes the poem’s spiritual authority because it arises from authentic inward observation.

    The speaker does not reject Heaven, prayer, or the Divine. She merely confesses that unquestioning innocence has yielded to reflective discernment. Her faith seeks deeper understanding rather than easy reassurance.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that spiritual realization grows through direct experience instead of blind acceptance. The speaker stands precisely at that threshold. Her questions become the means through which superficial belief may mature into genuine wisdom.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s extraordinary courage in allowing unresolved tensions to remain visible. She seldom offers simplistic conclusions because authentic contemplative musing rarely ends with effortless certainty. Instead, she leaves readers contemplating the mysterious relationship between divine promise, human expectation, and the soul’s continuing search for eternal truth.

  • When Lilacs First Open Up in Spring

    When Lilacs First Open Up in Spring

    In Memoriam: Thomas Thornburg
    September 23, 1937 – July 8, 2020

    When lilacs first open up in spring
    Before the zinnias begin to bloom
    My heart sinks but then begins to sing.

    The lavender clusters commence unfurling,
    Sweet fragrance spilling into the garden’s room—
    When lilacs first open up in spring.

    I glimpse the tender buds emerging,
    Each petal wafting its honeyed perfume,
    My heart sinks but then begins to sing.

    Springtime’s first sweet beckoning
    Is relieving winter from its frozen tomb
    When lilacs first open up in spring.

    Though sorrow may stab, hope is stirring
    In every branch’s tender plume—
    My heart sinks but then begins to sing.

    Nature’s cycle has the earth returning
    To cheer away the winter’s gloom.
    When lilacs first open up in spring,
    My heart sinks but then begins to sing.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “‘Butch’ Weldy”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://www.best-poems.net/edgar_lee_masters/index.html#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “‘Butch’ Weldy”

    The epitaph “‘Butch’ Weldy” concludes the “Minerva” series. Butch declaims about his ordeal after a work related accident—with nary a nod to Minerva.

    Introduction with Text of Poem, “‘Butch’ Weldy”

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “‘Butch’ Weldy” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the character of the man who impregnated Minerva Jones before he “got religion and steadied down” is revealed. 

    The reader will notice that Butch makes no reference to Minerva Jones, her father—Indignation Jones, or Doctor and Mrs. Meyers.   Butch’s choice of narrative subject reveals him to be a rather self-indulgent individual. The fifth and final installment in the “Minerva Jones” saga, “‘Butch’ Weldy” concludes the “Minerva Jones” series. 

    Butch declaims about his ordeal after a work related accident—with nary a nod to Minerva, but it is easy to understand how his own misery would tend to blot out his dealings with the ilk of Minerva, et al.

    “Butch” Weldy

    After I got religion and steadied down
    They gave me a job in the canning works,  
    And every morning I had to fill  
    The tank in the yard with gasoline,
    That fed the blow-fires in the sheds
    To heat the soldering irons.
    And I mounted a rickety ladder to do it,
    Carrying buckets full of the stuff.
    One morning, as I stood there pouring,
    The air grew still and seemed to heave,
    And I shot up as the tank exploded,
    And down I came with both legs broken,
    And my eyes burned crisp as a couple of eggs.
    For someone left a blow-fire going,  
    And something sucked the flame in the tank.
    The Circuit Judge said whoever did it
    Was a fellow-servant of mine, and so
    Old Rhodes’ son didn’t have to pay me.  
    And I sat on the witness stand as blind
    As Jack the Fiddler, saying over and over,
    “I didn’t know him at all.”

    Interpretive Reading 

    Commentary on “‘Butch’ Weldy”

    ‘Butch’ Weldy reveals himself to be a young man who has tried to rehabilitate himself from his earlier bad behavior.  But he meets with a terrible work-related accident that leaves him blind and crippled.

    His getting religion and steadying down likely improved his life in some regards.   But then after accepting a job at the canning factory, things fell apart.  He eventually shows himself to be a rather muddled-brained fellow as the tries to navigate a court trial.

    First Movement:  Weldy Get Religion and Takes a Job at the Canning Factory

    After I got religion and steadied down
    They gave me a job in the canning works,  
    And every morning I had to fill  
    The tank in the yard with gasoline,
    That fed the blow-fires in the sheds
    To heat the soldering irons.
    And I mounted a rickety ladder to do it,

    Presenting himself as a ne’er-do-well, Butch reports that he was able to find work after he “got religion and steadied down,” exposing his character as a gad-about, who likely indulged in all manner of adolescent chicanery.  This estimation of Weldy’s character can be inferred from the fact that he impregnated Minerva Jones out- of-wedlock. 

    Likely, Butch led Minerva to believe he loved her and after carrying on with her for a time that suited his fancy, he dumped her.  It remains unclear if Weldy ever knew about the baby, Minerva was carrying.

    Equally likely, however, is that he left the village poetess after finding out about the pregnancy, which he would not have entertained a desire to support  As Minerva said, Butch left her “to her fate with Doctor Meyers.” 

    Butch explains his job at the canning works, how he “mounted a rickety ladder” every morning “to fill / The tank in the yard with gasoline.” This fuel then fed the “blow-fires in the sheds / To heat the soldering irons.” 

    Second Movement:   The Work Incident That Blinded and Crippled Butch 

    Carrying buckets full of the stuff.
    One morning, as I stood there pouring,
    The air grew still and seemed to heave,
    And I shot up as the tank exploded,
    And down I came with both legs broken,
    And my eyes burned crisp as a couple of eggs.
    For someone left a blow-fire going,  
    And something sucked the flame in the tank.

    Butch then states that on one work morning as he was filling the tank with gasoline that he had fetched up the ladder, he noticed that suddenly the air around him became still but “seemed to heave.”

    All of a sudden, his body was hurled upward “as the tank exploded.”   From this unfortunate event, Butch suffered two broken legs and his eyes “burned crisp as a couple of eggs,” thus, rendering him blind. 

    Third Movement:  The Trial and the Failure to Be Compensated

    For someone left a blow-fire going,  
    And something sucked the flame in the tank.
    The Circuit Judge said whoever did it
    Was a fellow-servant of mine, and so
    Old Rhodes’ son didn’t have to pay me.

    A fellow worker had allowed one of the fires to continue to burn. Butch explains that the air sucked the flame in the tank.  Butch’s narrative then lurches quickly to the trial in which the Circuit Judge fails to award Weldy any damages.

    Butch’s attempt to recover damages from the canning works for his injuries is thwarted by the court which found that because a fellow worker had been negligent and caused the accident, the owners of the canning works could not be held responsible. 

    Fourth Movement:    Weldy Sues the Wrong Party

    And I sat on the witness stand as blind
    As Jack the Fiddler, saying over and over,
    “I didn’t know him at all.”

    Butch repeatedly protests that he did not know the fellow worker at all.  This response reveals a lack of understanding; the court was not saying the Butch and the perpetrator were buddies; it was saying that the canning works’ owners were not responsible.  It would therefore seem to follow that if Butch were to sue the fellow worker, he might have a case. 

    Butch remarks that he sat on the witness stand, “as blind / As Jack the Fiddler,” repeating his claim that he did not know the fellow employ who neglected to douse the fire in the shed.  Jack the Fiddler is an allusion to “Blind Jack,” who appears later on in the Spoon River Anthology.

    The Minerva Jones Sequence

    1. Minerva Jones  The “Minerva Jones” epitaph features one of the most depraved characters of the Spoon River talking dead. She is self-absorbed and haughty, lacking empathy and self-awareness, causing her to remain ignorant of her own discordant thoughts. 
    2. “Indignation” Jones  In the second epitaph of the “Minerva” series, the poetess’ father, “Indignation” Jones, fulminates against Spoon River society.
    3. Doctor Meyers The third epitaph in the Minerva Jones series features “Doctor Meyers,” who performed the abortion that led to the death of the unfortunate poetess.
    4. Mrs. Meyers  In the fourth epitaph in this series,”Mrs. Meyers,” Dr. Meyers’ wife testifies that her husband, whom she calls “poor soul,” reaped what he sowed for his actions in life. The religious woman offers advice for a pleasant and peaceful life, reminding humanity to “Love God and keep his commandments.”
    5. “Butch” Weldy  The fifth and final epitaph “‘Butch’ Weldy” concludes the “Minerva Jones” series. Butch declaims about his ordeal after a work related accident—with nary a nod to Minerva.

  • So Many Bubbles Drift

    Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem
    Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem

    So Many Bubbles Drift

    —inspired by Paramahansa Yogananda’s “Vanishing Bubbles“

    So many bubbles drift into view—then burst and fade away.
    They ripple by, play for a time, then pass on into the sea.
    I aspire to learn whence they come and whither they stray.

    Raindrops fall and splash—then dissolve without delay
    As they rush like thoughts that flash but leave no memory.
    So many bubbles drift into view—then burst and fade away.

    Night’s stars are bright but lose their shine upon dawning day.
    Cherished friends and loved ones dear—no longer here to stay.
    I aspire to learn whence they come and whither they stray.

    Lilies come blooming; bees and birds all do in sunlight play.
    Then comes the hour that all remains is one bare, empty tree.
    So many bubbles drift into view—then burst and fade away.

    The players sang their parts then slipped into another way—
    The cosmic screen whereon they moved hides what used to be.
    I aspire to learn whence they come and whither they stray.

    I will use my time to discover the truths that do so heavily weigh—
    To unveil the Infinite Force that shines then dims through eternity.
    So many bubbles drift into view—then burst and fade away.
    I aspire to learn whence they come and whither they stray.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “‘Indignation’ Jones”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://factfile.org/10-facts-about-edgar-lee-masters#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “‘Indignation’ Jones”

    In the second poem/epigraph of the “Minerva” series, the poetess’ father, “Indignation” Jones, fulminates against Spoon River society.

    Introduction with Text of “‘Indignation’ Jones”

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “‘Indignation’ Jones” from Spoon River Anthology gives voice to the father of “Minerva Jones,” the village “poetess.  This father and daughter share two common character flaws:  their arrogance of a mightily, unearned self-worth and their vice of laying the blame for their own erroneous behavior on others. “Indignation” Jones’ blast of a full-throated denouncement of Spoon River society rings as hollow as Minerva’s, even as it is, perhaps, louder.

    “Indignation” Jones 

    You would not believe, would you,
    That I came from good Welsh stock?
    That I was purer blooded than the white trash here?
    And of more direct lineage than the New Englanders  
    And Virginians of Spoon River?
    You would not believe that I had been to school  
    And read some books.
    You saw me only as a run-down man,
    With matted hair and beard
    And ragged clothes.
    Sometimes a man’s life turns into a cancer
    From being bruised and continually bruised,  
    And swells into a purplish mass,
    Like growths on stalks of corn.
    Here was I, a carpenter, mired in a bog of life
    Into which I walked, thinking it was a meadow,  
    With a slattern for a wife, and poor Minerva, my daughter,
    Whom you tormented and drove to death.
    So I crept, crept, like a snail through the days  
    Of my life.
    No more you hear my footsteps in the morning,  
    Resounding on the hollow sidewalk,
    Going to the grocery store for a little corn meal  
    And a nickel’s worth of bacon.

    Interpretive Reading: 

    Commentary on “Indignation” Jones

    In the second poem of the “Minerva” series, the poetess’ father, “Indignation” Jones, offers his indignant rant against Spoon River society.

    First Movement:  An Indignant Man

    You would not believe, would you,
    That I came from good Welsh stock?
    That I was purer blooded than the white trash here?
    And of more direct lineage than the New Englanders  
    And Virginians of Spoon River?

    “Indignation” Jones was apparently so bombastic as to carry the moniker “Indignation.”   Clearly, he deems himself superior to the other Spoon River residents as he fashions his claims in question form that reveal that he came from “good Welsh stock” and that his blood was pure—not like the “white trash” in Spoon River.

    Additionally, he pronounces himself and his stock’s lineage “more direct” than those from New England and Virginia that now reside in Spoon River. Jones is unlike the riffraff of the town; he asserts that his bloodline is untainted by southern Europeans or other races.

    Second Movement:  Unrecognized Erudition

    You would not believe that I had been to school  
    And read some books.
    You saw me only as a run-down man,
    With matted hair and beard
    And ragged clothes.

    Jones then claims that he has schooling and has book-learning; it was observed in his daughter’s epitaph that she too had some book-learning. But Jones is now taunting the town of Spoon River by accusing it of not believing that he had such erudition.

    Jones accuses the town of judging him by his outward appearance; all they saw was a disheveled man with unkempt “hair and beard,” wearing tattered clothing. Apparently, no one ever engaged in conversation with Jones, if his report can be given credence.

    Third Movement:  Unmasking Self-Pity

    Sometimes a man’s life turns into a cancer
    From being bruised and continually bruised,  
    And swells into a purplish mass,
    Like growths on stalks of corn.

    Philosophically, Jones surmises that sometimes men’s lives become ill-fated and diseased, as bad as “a cancer.”  Some men become bruised and continue to experience being bruised.  Because of the bruising, those lives turn into a swollen “purplish mass.”  They appear as nasty as the cancerous growths on cornstalks.

    Likening his life to a swollen, purplish mass on a corn stalk reveals Indignation’s own penchant for poetry.  And clearly it unmasks his own self-pity that along with the poetry he has passed on to his daughter Minerva, the village poetess.

    Fourth Movement:   A Carpenter, and  Yet

    Here was I, a carpenter, mired in a bog of life
    Into which I walked, thinking it was a meadow,  
    With a slattern for a wife, and poor Minerva, my daughter,
    Whom you tormented and drove to death.
    So I crept, crept, like a snail through the days

    The irony of “Indignation” Jones’ situation is enhanced as he reveals that he had been “a carpenter” by trade. But he has nothing more to say about his profession and moves quickly on to asserting his desperation at being mired down in a swamp-like condition his whole life-long.

    Jones had innocently entered this swamp, mistaking it for a lovely pasture.  He never tells his audience why he started out so optimistically, or exactly how or when he changed into the grump he now clearly is. He laments that his wife turned out to be “a slattern,” and his “poor Minerva” was “tormented and [driven] to death” by this unfeeling town.  

    Jones offers no clear reason for any down turn of luck:  was he a successful carpenter?  why did he marry a slattern in the first place?  was he aware that Minerva underwent an abortion, which, in fact, caused her death?

    Answers to these questions obviously would reveal that Jones is the actual cause of his own suffering, and like many of the talking dead here, who constantly place the blame on others for this bad luck, Jones is doing the same.

    Fifth Movement:    Depressed and Dejected

    So I crept, crept, like a snail through the days  
    Of my life.
    No more you hear my footsteps in the morning,  
    Resounding on the hollow sidewalk,
    Going to the grocery store for a little corn meal  
    And a nickel’s worth of bacon.

    Living depressed and dejected, mired in a nasty swamp-like existence, Jones moved “like a snail” through his days. Being stuck in a swamp and having a miserable existence accounts for his life seeming to move so slowly.

    But now he can announce that the riffraff can no longer hear his traipsing to the store in the morning to buy what little he could afford, only a “little corn meal” and a few cents’ worth of “bacon.  Consumed by an arrogant self-pity, “Indignation” Jones does not realize the vacuousness of his protestations of poverty.

    The Minerva Jones Sequence

    1. Minerva Jones  The “Minerva Jones” epitaph features one of the most depraved characters of the Spoon River talking dead. She is self-absorbed and haughty, lacking empathy and self-awareness, causing her to remain ignorant of her own discordant thoughts. 
    2. “Indignation” Jones  In the second epitaph of the “Minerva” series, the poetess’ father, “Indignation” Jones, fulminates against Spoon River society.
    3. Doctor Meyers The third epitaph in the Minerva Jones series features “Doctor Meyers,” who performed the abortion that led to the death of the unfortunate poetess.
    4. Mrs. Meyers  In the fourth epitaph in this series,”Mrs. Meyers,” Dr. Meyers’ wife testifies that her husband, whom she calls “poor soul,” reaped what he sowed for his actions in life. The religious woman offers advice for a pleasant and peaceful life, reminding humanity to “Love God and keep his commandments.”
    5. “Butch” Weldy  The fifth and final epitaph “‘Butch’ Weldy” concludes the “Minerva Jones” series. Butch declaims about his ordeal after a work related accident—with nary a nod to Minerva.