Linda's Literary Home

Tag: poetry

  • 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.  

  • Emily Dickinson’s “So has a Daisy vanished”

    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 “So has a Daisy vanished”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “So has a Daisy vanished” wonders if the dead Daisy and other departing plant creatures of the field have gone off to be “with God.” 

    Introduction and Text of “So has a Daisy vanished”

    The speaker of Emily Dickinson’s “So has a Daisy vanished,” who has a keen ability to observe her natural surroundings, has been moved to wonder about the soul of “a Daisy” and many other “slipper[s]” who have given up their physical encasements of beautiful blooms and glorious green stems and simply vanished.  She wonders where they went, as she dramatizes their final days of earthly glory.

    So has a Daisy vanished

    So has a Daisy vanished
    From the fields today –
    So tiptoed many a slipper
    To Paradise away –

    Oozed so in crimson bubbles
    Day’s departing tide –
    Blooming – tripping – flowing
    Are ye then with God?

    Commentary on “So has a Daisy vanished”

    The speaker in this brief drama wonders if the dead Daisy and other departing plant creatures of the field have gone off to be “with God.”

    First Stanza:  A Flower in Heaven

    So has a Daisy vanished
    From the fields today –
    So tiptoed many a slipper
    To Paradise away –

    The speaker begins with a statement informing her readers and listeners that a lovely flower has gone, disappeared “from the fields today.”  She begins with the conjunctive adverb “so,” seeming to indicate that she is merely taking up a thought that began somewhere else and at an earlier interval.   

    Then again employing the telling “so,” the speaker adds that many other flowers have also tripped off to “Paradise.”  Along with the lovely “Daisy,” the other “slipper[s]” have all gone missing, but the speaker suggests that they have metaphorically died and gone to Heaven.  While the “Daisy” has rather generically “vanished,” the others have “tiptoed” off “to Paradise.”

    The speaker is playing with the language of loss, which almost always produces a melancholy in the very sensitive hearts of keen observers.  Instead of merely dying, the flowers vanish from the fields and tiptoe away.  

    That they all have metaphorically gone on to “Paradise” demonstrates that the faith and courage of the sensitive heart of this deep observer are fully operational.  That the speaker allows that these creatures of nature have gone to Heaven or Paradise shows that she has a firm grasp on the existence of the soul as a permanent life force that plants as well as animals possess. 

    This speaker understands that all life is divinely endowed.  The flowers leave behind their physical encasements, but they take their soul encasement and then scurry off to the astral world, from where they will likely return to the Earth or some other planet to continue working out their karma–an eventuality that informs the procedure for the animal kingdom as well.

    Second Stanza:  To Be with the Divine Creator

    Oozed so in crimson bubbles
    Day’s departing tide –
    Blooming – tripping – flowing
    Are ye then with God?

    While the speaker remains aware that plant life force is as eternal as that of the animal kingdom, she is not so sure about where each individual plant goes after its demise.  Thus she wonders if they are “with God.”  

    Likely influenced by the Christian concepts of Heaven and Hell, the speaker no doubt wonders if plant behavior while on Earth may require a reckoning that leads to Heaven or Hell.  That she asks in the more affirmative mood demonstrates her optimistic sensitivity.

    Paramahansa Yogananda has likened life on Earth to vanishing bubbles.  He has explained that many deep thinking philosophers, sages, and poets have realized that the things of this world are like bubbles in the ocean; those individual things such as stars, flowers, animals, and people suddenly appear, experience a life only for a brief period of time, and then they disappear as swiftly as they appeared.

    In his poem, “Vanishing Bubbles,” the great yogi dramatizes that brief earthly sojourn of the myriad life forms, as he unearths the solution for those sensitive minds and hearts that grieve after the loss of those individuals whom they had loved and who yet must vanish like bubbles. 

    And that solution is the simple knowledge that although the physical encasement of each individual has indeed vanished, the soul of each individual continues to exist; therefore, there is no actual vanishing or death.

    The speaker in Dickinson’s poem is suggesting that she is aware of the eternal, everlasting nature of the soul.  After the lovely bloom has been maneuvered into the world on “crimson bubbles,” it will live its brief life, prancing about with the breeze, and then with the “departing tide,” its day will come to an end,  but only for its physical encasement, which it will leave behind.  

    The speaker knows that its soul–its life force–will continue, and she wonders if those souls of all those lovely flowers she has been enjoying will then be “with God.”  That she would ask hints that she believes the answer is yes.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Morns like these – we parted”

    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 “Morns like these – we parted”

    Emily Dickinson loved nature, and birds appear often in her poems, her spiritual garden. She also was quite fond of mystery and riddles. This poem offers an accumulation of evidence that she has observed a bird and then poof! one human act and the bird takes wing!

    Introduction and Text of “Morns like these – we parted”

    Emily Dickinson’s speaker in her riddle-poem, “Morns like these – we parted,” is creating a drama from the act of bird-watching, as the act covers a single day from the time of morning when one bird and she parted company to the act of evening drawing the curtains, simultaneously hearing the bird fly off to its own abode or to wherever it may be taking for its destination.

    The mental gymnastics of the speaker reveals a special gift of qualifying the experience of the human mind, intrigued by the bird’s ability to fly in the freedom of the open skies, indicating that this drama has often played out in the speaker’s mind. 

    Morns like these – we parted

    Morns like these – we parted –
    Noons like these – she rose –
    Fluttering first – then firmer
    To her fair repose.

    Never did she lisp it –
    It was not for me–
    She – was mute from transport –
    I – from agony –

    Till – the evening nearing
    One the curtains drew –
    Quick! A sharper rustling!
    And this linnet flew!


    Commentary on “Morns like these – we parted”

    Emily Dickinson’s “Morns like these – we parted” offers an accumulation of evidence that the speaker has observed a bird and then poof! one human act and the bird takes wing!

    First Stanza:  Observing a Bird

    Morns like these – we parted –
    Noons like these – she rose –
    Fluttering first – then firmer
    To her fair repose.

    Observing the behavior of feathered friends, the speaker reports that on certain mornings she has watched as a bird makes its way heavenward, leaving her earthbound but astounded by the ability of an earth creature to fly through the sky. 

    In addition to morning flights, she has experienced the magic also around noontime.  The creature with wings first may seem to merely “flutter[ ],” but then suddenly with more determined gait glided to its chosen destination.

    Second Stanza:  Experiencing Awe

    Never did she lisp it –
    It was not for me–
    She – was mute from transport –
    I – from agony –

    As the bird begins its magical journey, it does not communicate vocally in song or chirp to the speaker’s presence.  Having nothing to impart to its observer, it merely begins its flight.  The speaker assumes that the bird’s silence is caused merely by her “transport” of the felicity of light.  

    The speaker remains “mute” merely from “agony”—the sudden awareness that one will remain earthbound while this marvelous creature will ascend and vanish skyward.  The earth-bound creatures can only watch, think, muse, and then attempt to recreate the feathered, flying creatures actions in a written composition. 

    Third Stanza:  The Close of a Drama

    Till – the evening nearing
    One the curtains drew –
    Quick! A sharper rustling!
    And this linnet flew!

    All of this drama of observation and bird flight goes on from morning to evening, nigh to which someone in the home closes the curtains at the window.  From without comes the “rustling” sound, which is quick and sharp, as the bird—now identified as a “linnet” flies off to parts unknown to the speaker/observer, but likely known well to the bird.  

    The speaker’s attention has been suddenly snipped by this final sudden movement of the flying creature which she has so patiently watched in wonder.  The speaker’s mind has flown with the bird, waited as the bird waited, now drops its object as the bird has rustled its feathers for the last time that day and flown off to God only knows whither.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Distrustful of the Gentian”

    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 “Distrustful of the Gentian”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “Distrustful of the Gentian,” the speaker creates a fascinating little drama to explore the melancholy the erupts in her heart at the closing of summer.

    Introduction and Text of “Distrustful of the Gentian”

    Although it seems that a very important word has been omitted from the poem, the drama continues unabated.  It would make an interesting study to add a guessed-at word and then see how it might change the outcome of the poem’s force.  I will venture the guess that the word she meant to supply referred to her mood.  

    Likely she thought, “Weary for my mood,” sounded too ordinary, too mundane, so she meant to come back and add a more dramatic term.  But then alas! she either never found the time nor the term, so it gets left double dashed, imposing a quizzical conundrum on her future audience.

    Distrustful of the Gentian

    Distrustful of the Gentian –
    And just to turn away,
    The fluttering of her fringes
    Chid my perfidy –
    Weary for my –––
    I will singing go –
    I shall not feel the sleet – then –
    I shall not fear the snow.

    Flees so the phantom meadow
    Before the breathless Bee –
    So bubble brooks in deserts
    On Ears that dying lie –
    Burn so the Evening Spires
    To Eyes that Closing go –
    Hangs so distant Heaven –
    To a hand below.

    Commentary on “Distrustful of the Gentian”

    The speaker in Dickinson’s “Distrustful of the Gentian” is lamenting the end of summer—a theme that the poet returns to again and again.  Her love of each season motivated her to address the phenomena in poem after poem.

    First Stanza:  A Mysterious Weariness

    Distrustful of the Gentian –
    And just to turn away,
    The fluttering of her fringes
    Chid my perfidy –
    Weary for my –––
    I will singing go –
    I shall not feel the sleet – then –
    I shall not fear the snow.

    The first issue that accosts a reader of this poem is that it appears the poet failed to supply the object in the prepositional phrase “for my –––” in the fifth line but instead had simply placed a longer dash placeholder.  It does seem that she intended to come back and add a word but perhaps never got around to it.  

    On her handwritten version appear along side the place-holding long dash what appear to  be the letters “a n o w,” but those letters could have been placed there by an editor.  The handwriting does not seem to be that of the poet.

    The speaker begins by professing her distrust of the gentian flower; her distrust causes her to turn from the flower.  And she says that those fluttering fringes of the gentian rebuked her own untrustworthiness, likely for her admission of distrust of the flower.  

    This mutual lack of trust between the speaker and the flower causes the speaker to become “weary,” but because she did not state the object other weariness, the reader must guess what is specifically causing the weariness.

    The speaker with this unspecified weariness claims that she will continue on, and she will do so “singing.”  This singing indicates that she will enliven her mood and keep it high through this cheerful act.  

    She then asserts that through this act of singing she will not experience the negativity of “sleet,” indicating the season of winter.  To further the winter implication, she adds that she will “not fear the snow.”

    The speaker in this little drama is fashioning her preparation for the end of nice, warm summer weather as she tries to ease herself into readying her mind and heart for the onset of a cold, hard winter.

    Second Stanza:  Losing a Favored Season

    Flees so the phantom meadow
    Before the breathless Bee –
    So bubble brooks in deserts
    On Ears that dying lie –
    Burn so the Evening Spires
    To Eyes that Closing go –
    Hangs so distant Heaven –
    To a hand below.

    The second stanza continues to find the speaker painting the end of summer with masterful strokes.  She reports that the meadow is “flee[ing],” and the bee has become “breathless” at the event.  Of course, the meadow is a simple metonymy for all that the the meadow holds in terms of green grasses, colorful flowers, and wild-life such as bees and birds.  

    All those fresh, summer colors will soon turn to a winter brown, and essentially be gone because it will have changed so much.  The meadow is thus phantom-like because its qualities will seem to become mere ghosts of themselves as they can no longer remain full-bodied as in her beloved summer.

    The speaker finds her happy summer-self dying like one who is thirsting in a desert while phantom brooks seem to bubble nearby.  The desert mirage has presented itself, and the poor traveler lies dying with the sound of a babbling water stream flowing through her field of hearing.  

    And for the eyes, those eyes that are “closing,” the spires of evening seem to burn all the more bright.  That time of day when shadows loom becomes more engulfed in darkness as those shadows loom larger in fall and winter.

    The speaker then avers that to those on earth “Heaven” seems so distant, too distant for the hand to grasp. As summer continues to fade, the speaker becomes painfully aware that the next summer is quite far off.  Indeed, it is another fall, winter, and spring away.

    The speaker has focused heavily on the sense of sight in this little drama, but she has also included the sense of sound with the image of the bee and the brook.  She also includes the act of grasping with a hand.  

    As she reaches out her hand to touch the beauty of the seasons, she finds the dying of summer a particularly poignant event; thus she has again created her little drama to play out her melancholy of losing that favored season.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    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 sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    Emily Dickinson’s short poem, “A sepal, petal, and a thorn,” consists of only one cinquain, but its five lines pack a prayerful punch into its deceptive shortness.

    Introduction and Text of “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    Emily Dickinson’s short poem “A sepal, petal, and a thorn” begins as a riddle but concludes by identifying the speaker and subject of her narrative.  The speaker of this cinquain offers a brief description of a special environment observed by a seemingly outside observer.  However, the observer becomes clear when she is named and identified in the final surprising line.

    A sepal, petal, and a thorn

    A sepal, petal, and a thorn
    Upon a common summer’s morn –
    A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –
    A Breeze – a caper in the trees –
    And I’m a Rose!

    Commentary on “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    This awe-inspiring little drama demonstrates the poet’s amazing ability to observe fine details and then create finely crafted poems.

    First Movement:  The Crowds of Summer

    A sepal, petal, and a thorn
    Upon a common summer’s morn –

    The speaker begins her announcement by focusing on key elements in a special environment which include the parts of a flowering plant.  Most, if not all flowers, possess a physical part called a “sepal” or the green supporting element that holds the bloom and protects it as it keeps the flower of the plant intact.

    The speaker then adds the important part of the flower called the “petal.”  The petals conjoined make up the distinct flower itself. It provides the particular shape and coloring that each flower affords to offer its beauty to the human eye.

    The speaker then offers what at first seems to be an odd member of this group, when she adds “thorn.” Not many flowers possess thorns, but the mind of the audience is not permitted to dwell upon this odd addition, for the speaker adds the marvelous and pleasurable descriptor involving the time element for her announcement:  it is summer and the speaker frames the time as containing all that has been described, and then she places them together, “[u]pon a common summer’s morn.”

    Thus far, the speaker has offered only two parts of a flowering plant with the addition of the strange and dangerous sounding element, the thorn.  But she has mitigated her simple list by placing those flowering parts at the wonderful time of year known a summer, and further beautified the environment by making it during the early part of the day or “morn[ing].”

    Second Movement:  Unity in Rime

    A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –
    A Breeze – a caper in the trees –

    The second movement of this marvelously simple, yet complicated, narration continues the catalogue-like listing of natural elements:  dew, bee, breeze, trees.  But to her drama she has added a fantastically adept rime-scheme that holds the element fast together in an almost divine unity.

    The “dew” is held in a “flask”; thus she pronounces her creation, “[a] flask of Dew.”  A flask is a simple bottle-like container, usually associated with alcoholic beverages.  The speaker’s employment of such a container instead of “glass” or “cup” quite deliberately contributes to the intoxication of the beauty and unity of such a summer morning, which has motivated the speaker to enumerate the fine details upon which she is concentrating. 

    The second half of this line, “A Bee or two” completes the rime unification that sparks her observation, which yields the intoxication caused by the beauty of the natural elements; therefore, arises, “A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –,” whose pleasurable rime rings in the mind as it presents the image of a couple of bees hovering over a beautiful flowering plant early in the day.

    The second line of the movement presents an almost uncanny repetition of force through its image and rime as the first line:  again, the speaker has created a pleasurable rime that unifies the elements with the sparks of divine unity, “A Breeze – a caper in the trees.”  As “Dew” and “two” offered a perfect riming set, so do “Breeze” and “trees.”

    The second movement then creates a little drama that could almost stand alone because it has offered an image that implies a flower, calling it a “flash of Dew” over which hover a pair of bees, set in an area where a breeze is blowing and whipping up a “caper” in the surrounding trees.  The employment of the term “caper” offers a magically wonderful element of mischief that the speaker infuses into her drama of a simple flower.

    Third Movement:  Rose Reporting

    And I’m a Rose!

    In the final movement, the speaker announces her identity.  She is a “Rose.”  Little wonder that the accuracy and fidelity to detail have been so brilliantly portrayed; it has been the flower herself who is reporting. Unlike so many of Dickinson’s riddle poems in which she never condescends to name the subject of the riddle, this one proudly announces who the speaker is in direct terms.

    After describing her environment of finely crafted elements–sepal, petal, morn, dew, bees, breeze, trees–the speaker then affords her audience the ultimate unity by stating directly and unequivocally who she is.  With this revelation, the mystery of the “thorn” in the first line is solved.

    This masterfully crafted little drama offers the Dickinson canon one of its main features that demonstrate the ability of the poet to observe and create little masterful dramas out of her observations.  Her ability to make words dance as well as fill out images remains a staple in the Dickinson tool-kit of poetic expression.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Baffled for just a day or two”

    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 “Baffled for just a day or two”

    This poem, “Baffled for just a day or two,” is one of Emily Dickinson’s most puzzling riddles, and like many of her poems, it begs multiple level interpretations from a flower in her garden to the eruption in a garden mind of a new type of poem.

    Introduction and Text of “Baffled for just a day or two”

    Depending on who is being described as “baffled” and “embarrassed,” the poem reveals a chance “encounter” with some unexpected, but likely not completely unknown entity.  Because the location is the speaker’s “garden,” a flower may be presumed.  

    But if “garden” refers to the mythological garden of the poet’s poetry, as mentioned in the poem, “There is another sky,” in which the speaker invites her brother, “Prithee, my brother, / Into my garden come!,” the strange, “unexpected Maid,” may turn out to be a poem.

    Baffled for just a day or two

    Baffled for just a day or two –
    Embarrassed – not afraid –
    Encounter in my garden
    An unexpected Maid.

    She beckons, and the woods start –
    She nods, and all begin –
    Surely, such a country
    I was never in!

    Commentary on “Baffled for just a day or two”

    Emily Dickinson’s metaphysical garden includes many varieties of flowering poems, even those that might have startled her upon first appearance.

    First Stanza:  Some Stranger in Her Garden Has Appeared

    Baffled for just a day or two –
    Embarrassed – not afraid –
    Encounter in my garden
    An unexpected Maid.

    The speaker begins with an odd remark, indicating that someone or some entity was confused and perhaps struggling to emerge, as a flower pushing itself up through the soil might do.  The entity remained in the situation for only a couple of days.  Because of its struggle, which likely looked awkward, it was “embarrassed,” but it struggled on without fear.

    This event happened in the speaker’s garden, where she “encounter[ed]” “an unexpected Maid.”  The speaker never reveals explicitly who or what this “Maid” is.  She leaves it up to the reader to take as much from her riddle/poem as possible.  And it is likely that she thinks of this poem as so deeply personal that she will remain blissfully unconcerned even if no one ever grasps her exact reference.

    Second Stanza:  From Some Hitherto Unvisited Metaphysical Plane

    She beckons, and the woods start –
    She nods, and all begin –
    Surely, such a country
    I was never in!

    This important “Maid,” who has made her appearance, then gestures enticingly, and that coaxing invitation causes the “woods” to begin moving toward her.  The “Maid” then “nods” and things begin to happen.  What begins to happen, the speaker is not divulging.

    The speaker then asserts another odd remark, saying that she “was never” in “such a country.”  That claim baffles the reader, for surely the speaker cannot be saying she was never in her garden, whether it refers to her literal, physical garden or to her figurative, metaphysical garden.

    But ah, knowing Dickinson, how mystically inclined her mind worked, her speaker could, in fact, be exaggerating because after the flower appeared, its beauty was beyond the gardener-speaker’s expectations.

    Or if the “Maid” is a poem, the speaker is revealing that the poem was so new, fresh, and profound that she feels she has never before encountered such a piece, and therefore it must come from a “country” or place in her mind/soul in which she, up to this point, has never visited.

    The poem works well on either the physical (Maid as flower) or the metaphysical (Maid as poem), as all great poetry does.  And while a reader might choose to accept the physical, readers who choose the metaphysical are likely to become more in tune with the Dickinsonian way of thinking.

    The Dickinson Mind

    Emily Dickinson was a poetic genius, as her reputation clearly affirms.  Her poems have delighted audiences since her works became widely disseminated.  Her poems reveal a mind that paid close attention to details.  The details that surrounded her in her home and the details of nature outside her home which she had the privilege of observing became her material for creating her little poetic dramas.


    However, the Dickinson mind was not content to merely describe the minutia of everyday life or even of living a New England life.  Emily Dickinson grasped early on that the world was filled with meaning.  The life she was living and the lives which all of her contemporaries were living sustained a meaning that only suggested itself to the individuals.

    But for Dickinson that suggestion remained a guiding force, urging her to know all she could know.  Her mind was a hungry, fierce animal that stalked it prey with a vengeance; it prey was that suggestion of meaning that resided in every created thing.

    God has created an untold number of things, and each and every one of those things holds untold levels of meaning.  Interestingly, it seems that only God’s things known as human beings are capable of wondering about the meaning of things, the meaning of life, the meaning of living a proper life.

    Also interesting, it also seems that only a new of those human beings have noticed that all God’s creation contains things with meaning.  Most individuals grasp the fact that things are useful, and in employing hat usefulness, reason and wonder often take a backseat.  People seem to leave the thinking of profound subjects for simply getting through another day with enough shelter, food, and raiment to sustain life.

    Emily Dickinson was of the few who take life so seriously that they contemplate, gather the fruits of their contemplations, and then create little dramas out of them.  Her life-long amazement that existence existed motivated her to continue creating her little garden and her world that thrived under “another sky.”

    The Dickinsonian mind is itself a thing of wonder.  Her depth of peering into something so simple as a flower remains a curiosity.  Her poems are testimonies to the amazing quality of her thinking.  While her depth and force may be especially extraordinary, they, nevertheless, are part and parcel of every human mind.

    All human minds possess the same capabilities that the Dickinsonian mind possessed.  The only difference is in their execution.  Dickinson gave in to urge to know everything she could about everything she encountered.  Any limiting factors standing in the way of her progress became mountains that she gladly climbed, and at the top of each mount, she sat gleefully composing the details of her journey upward.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I would distal a cup”

    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 would distal a cup”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I would distal a cup” mimics a toast to a departing friend.  It appears in a letter to newspaper editor Samuel Bowles, a family friend.

    Introduction and Text of “I would distil a cup”

    The text of Emily Dickinson’s “I would distal a cup” in prose form appears in a letter to Samuel Bowles, editor of the Springfield Republican, the most influential newspaper in New England around 1858.  The letter begins with the writer thanking Mr. Bowles for sending her a pamphlet.  She expresses uncertainly that he is the actual sender but thanks him in case he is.

    The rest of the letter finds the writer communicating her famous claim that her friends are her “estate,” and celebrating the notion that friendship enlivens her, keeping her on her toes.  The letter bears the date August 1858 and she remarks that the workers are gathering the “second Hay.”  

    Thus the summer season is winding down.  It is at this point in the letter that she states, “I would distil a cup, and bear to all my friends, drinking to her no more astir, by beck, or burn, or moor!”

    Apparently, Dickinson thought enough of this sentence to include it as a full-fledged poem in one of the many  fascicles that Thomas H. Johnson later edited for publication in his The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, the groundbreaking work that restored Dickinson’s poems to their original forms.  

    In the letter, Dickinson’s sentence-turned-poem seems to jump up out the verbiage as a toast at a gala dinner party, wherein one would rise, raise a cup, and offer the toast to one being recognized.

    I would distil a cup

    I would distil a cup,
    And bear to all my friends,
    Drinking to her no more astir,
    By beck, or burn, or moor!

    Commentary on “I would distal a cup”

    In a letter to Samuel Bowels, Emily Dickinson puts on display her colorful, chatty conversational ability, including this original prose-statement, which later became a finished poem.

    First Movement:  Creating, Rising, and Offering

    I would distil a cup,
    And bear to all my friends,

    The speaker, as if rising to offer a toast at some gathering of friends, imparts that she wishes to offer a toast “to all [her] friends.”  The drink is likely a fine whiskey; thus the speaker conflated the manufacture of the drink with her lifting the cup.  

    She makes herself more important to the creation of the drink than she, or anyone offering a toast, would deserve.  But the exaggeration simply implies her devotion to her friends, who are by the way, her “estate.”  Not only is she offering a toast, but she is also creating the drink in order to offer it.

    Then after the speaker had created this distilled beverage, she lifts her cup and bears its contents to all of her friends.  At the point that poem appears in her letter to Bowles, she had made it clear that she can make chatty conversation.  

    She has claimed that she wishes to be forgiven for hoarding her friends.  She has surmised that those who were once poor have a very different view of gold than those who have never suffered poverty.

    The letter writer even invokes God, saying He does not worry so much as we or else he would “give us no friends, lest we forget him.”  Playing on the expression, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” she compares what one might anticipate in “Heaven” as opposed to what one experiences on earth and finds the latter more appealing.

    However, the speaker then abruptly tells Bowles that, “Summer stopped since you were here,” after which she mourns the loss of summer with several acerbic witticisms.  She offers Bowles some paraphrases from her “Pastor,” who has dismissed humanity as nothing but a “Worm.”  

    Then she poses the question to Bowles:  “Do you think we shall ‘see God’?”  This abrupt inquiry likely startled Bowles, which is no doubt the writer’s purpose.  But then she moves on to the image of “Abraham” “strolling” with God “in genial promenade,” seemingly answering her own startling question.

    Second Movement:  As Summer Abandons the Streams and Meadows

    Drinking to her no more astir,
    By beck, or burn, or moor!

    After having distilled the fine liquor, poured it into her cup, she lifts it and offers her toast to the one who is in the process of departing—her beloved summer.  The summer season is no longer “astir” in the streams or on the meadows.  

    She employs the colorful terms “beck” and “burn” (bourne) to refer to streams of water.  And then she refers to fields, heaths, or meadows as “moor,” likely also for its colorful, exotic texture.

    Immediately after the toasting sentence in the letter, the letter writer abruptly bids Mr. Bowles, “Good night,” but she still has more to say and proceeds to say it.  She then claims that “this is what they say who come back in the morning.”  

    She seems to be identifying with summer who is saying good-bye but only to return “in the morning.”  But her certainty that “Confidence in Daybreak modifiers Dusk,” allows her to accept the pair of opposites that continually blight her world.

    The speaker has difficulty even saying good-night or good-bye to a friend once she has opened the conversation. But she knows she must wind down, just a summer has done; thus she wishes blessings for Bowles’ wife and children, even going to far as to send kisses for lips of the little ones.  

    She then tells Bowles that she and the rest of the Dickinson family remain eager to visit with him again.  And she will dispense with “familiar truths,” for his sake.

    Emily Dickinson and at the Exotic

    Emily Dickinson’s penchant for exoticisms likely enamored her of some of the more cryptic expressions placed in her letters.  That penchant allowed her be so cheeky as to select certain expressions and later present them in a fascicle as a poem.  

    It also explains her employment of terms for ordinary nouns such a field, river, creek, or meadow.  She kept her dictionary handy and made abundant use of it. Luckily, her intuitive perception and ability with language kept her from suffering the clownish terminology often detected by users of a thesaurus.

    Image b: Samuel Bowles – Emily Dickinson Museum

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Sleep is supposed to be”

    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 “Sleep is supposed to be”

    Dickinson’s “Sleep is supposed to be” redefines two common terms employed daily but, to the speaker’s mind, remain misidentified.

    Introduction with Text of  “Sleep is supposed to be”

    While the speaker in “The morns are meeker than they were” offers a playful riddle in order to elaborate on the beauty of the fall season, the speaker of “Sleep is supposed to be” has a very different purpose; this speaker disputes the common conception of “sleep” and “morning.”  

    The speaker then offers the common notion about what sleep and morning are understood to be and contrasts it with a different level of awakening.  She is referring to the spiritual awakening, when the soul and the Oversoul become one.   Dickinson often describes those states of awareness that transcend the physical level of existence.

    Sleep is supposed to be

    Sleep is supposed to be
    By souls of sanity
    The shutting of the eye.

    Sleep is the station grand
    Down which, on either hand
    The hosts of witness stand!

    Morn is supposed to be
    By people of degree
    The breaking of the day.

    Morning has not occurred!

    That shall Aurora be –
    East of Eternity –
    One with the banner gay –
    One in the red array –
    That is the break of Day.

    Reading of “Sleep is supposed to be”   

    Commentary on “Sleep is supposed to be”

    The speaker wants to redefine a term that by her reasoning has been mischaracterized.

    First Stanza:  Normal Sleep

    Sleep is supposed to be
    By souls of sanity
    The shutting of the eye.

    The speaker begins by stating that normally folks think of sleep as the act when people shut their eyes.    Those normal people are just everyday folk who go about their day waking, eating, working, playing, procreating, and of course shutting their eyes to sleep, before the next day finds them doing those ordinary things again.  

    Those individuals are the “sane” souls because they all agree on the common definition of “sleep.”  For them there is no other definition of “sleep”; thus the speaker must now enlighten them.  

    Second Stanza:  Opening Up a Mystic Paradise

    Sleep is the station grand
    Down which, on either hand
    The hosts of witness stand!

    After asserting that the normal, sane folks of the world have defined “sleep” a certain way, the speaker must now insert a new definition into the lexicon of society’s manners and language.   Instead of being merely a “shutting of the eye,” this speaker has discovered that sleep also allows a new world to emerge—one that is “grand.”  

    This world is a mystic paradise, where the angels appear everywhere.  They appear as “hosts” who give witness that this seemingly unusual realm exists.  The speaker has thus elevated the common activity in which all creatures worldwide engage to a metaphysical activity that she can be sure very few have experienced.

    The speaker therefore likely knows that what she is reporting will be understood by very few folks, but by dramatizing it in a poem she may reach some on some intuitive level. And even if they think she is merely describing dreams, well, that is better than continuing to devalue sleep as merely “shutting of the eye.”

    Third Stanza:  Considering Morning

    Morn is supposed to be
    By people of degree
    The breaking of the day.

    The speaker now moves on to the second term which she is urged to redefine for humanity—”Morn” or morning.  As with “sleep,” she tells her readers/listeners what people who deem themselves knowledgeable consider “morn” to be.   Those illustrious but limited folks consider morning to be merely the time that day begins, that time between the “shutting of the eye” and the “breaking of the day .”

    Fourth Stanza:  Morning Every Morning

    Morning has not occurred!

    The speaker then startles her readers/listeners by boldly asserting with emphasis, placing her announcement in one line, in order to draw maximum attention to its content.  

    This speaker insists that, in fact, there has been no “Morning” yet.  Despite the thinking of those smart people that morning is simply the time that day breaks, she courageously declares that “Morning has not occurred!”  Such a startling statement throws open all the windows of the mind.  What could the speaker be thinking?  After all morning occurs every morning, does it not?

    Fifth Stanza:   The True Morning

    That shall Aurora be –
    East of Eternity –
    One with the banner gay –
    One in the red array –
    That is the break of Day.

    The speaker then describes what a true “Morning” is.  A true morning is the time that the souls greets their Maker.  A great light appears that spreads from the forehead (“East”) out into that Heaven beyond the physical cosmos.  

    That union of soul and Oversoul is a time that is marked by a brilliant flag, marked by spreading of the brightest light beyond all physical light and sight.

    The speaker then concludes:  “That is the break of Day.” (Or “That is the break of Day.”) She emphasizes her description by emphasizing the word, “That.”  Modern-day type-script uses italics; Dickinson underlined the word, as is necessary without modern-day technological advances with the use of word processing.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I never told the buried gold”

    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 never told the buried gold”

    In Emily Dickinson’s “I never told the buried gold,”  the speaker has made an amazing discovery; she then creates a little drama in which she muses on whether to reveal that discovery. 

    Introduction with Text of “I never told the buried gold”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “I never told the buried gold” seems to be sharing a secret, but it is a secret so bizarre that she must couch it deeply in mystery.  

    She has realized a possession that is buried so deep in her psyche that she must dramatize it by creating a parable-like discourse, and she yet remains so ambivalent about revealing it that she seems to continue to waver as her drama unfolds.

    I never told the buried gold

    I never told the buried gold
    Upon the hill – that lies –
    I saw the sun – his plunder done
    Crouch low to guard his prize.

    He stood as near
    As stood you here –
    A pace had been between –
    Did but a snake bisect the brake
    My life had forfeit been.

    That was a wondrous booty –
    I hope ’twas honest gained.
    Those were the fairest ingots
    That ever kissed the spade!

    Whether to keep the secret –
    Whether to reveal –
    Whether as I ponder
    Kidd will sudden sail –

    Could a shrewd advise me
    We might e’en divide –
    Should a shrewd betray me –
    Atropos decide! 

    Commentary on “I never told the buried gold”

    The speaker is dramatizing her process of decision-making involving a recent discovery.

    First Stanza:  Revealing a Secret

    I never told the buried gold
    Upon the hill – that lies –
    I saw the sun – his plunder done
    Crouch low to guard his prize.

    The speaker begins by reporting that she has never told anyone about this treasure that she possesses.  Then immediately she begins to liken it to the valuable metal, “gold.”  She places that gold upon a hill where the sun is guarding it.  This gold belongs to the sun in the same way that her possession belongs to her.

    The sun seems to “plunder” as it moves about in its shining rays over the landscape, and it then stoops over the hill where the gold is buried; in stealth, the sun watches over its treasure.  The speaker has observed this odd behavior of the heavenly orb.  

    Thus, she likens her own guarding of her  “prize” to that of the sun guarding the gold.    The speaker intends to guard her prize because of its unusual nature, but the sun will continue to keep its prize safe out of sheer natural necessity.

    Second Stanza:  The Shock of Recognition

    He stood as near
    As stood you here –
    A pace had been between –
    Did but a snake bisect the brake
    My life had forfeit been.

    The speaker now has the sun standing near her, as near as the imaginary audience she is addressing.  There is, however, “a pace” between them.  

    And then a snake slithers through the thicket, dividing the foliage as it is wont to do.  (This image is reminiscent of the line, “The Grass divides as with a Comb,” in Dickinson’s riddle poem, “A narrow Fellow in the Grass.”)

    The speaker then makes the odd claim that her life had been forfeited, suggesting that for an instant she likely gave out a gasp of fear before regaining her equilibrium enough to continue living, thinking, and creating her drama.  The snake supplies the impetus for the notion of life forfeiting.

    While the speaker suddenly experiences the epiphany that she was in possession of this magnificent, golden gift, she also experiences a shock that unsettled her for at least a brief moment.

    Third Stanza:  Desire to be Worthy 

    That was a wondrous booty –
    I hope ’twas honest gained.
    Those were the fairest ingots
    That ever kissed the spade!

    The speaker now admits that what she has realized about herself is tantamount to coming into the possession of large storehouse of amazing gifts or treasure.  She calls her treasure “wondrous booty,” and then she indicates that she hopes she has earned this amazing treasure-trove, and not merely stolen it or been given it willy-nilly, or inexplicably.

    The speaker then sizes up the value of this mysterious possession, by continuing the “gold” metaphor.  Now calling her possession “ingots,” she estimates their value as the “fairest” “that ever kissed the spade.”  

    Of course, ingots must be dug out of the ground, and when they are found by the excavating shovel, those ingots meet the metal of the “spade” with resounding touch, which the speaker calls a “kiss.”

    Fourth Stanza:  Whether to Reveal the Secret

    Whether to keep the secret –
    Whether to reveal –
    Whether as I ponder
    Kidd will sudden sail –

    Again, the speaker becomes ambivalent about revealing this amazing “secret.”  She lists her toggling of the mind that cannot decide if she should keep hidden this new knowledge or whether she ought to announce it.

    As the speaker muses on the issue—whether to tell or not, she reckons that Captain Kidd might just be sailing to retrieve his own booty of treasure, which by legend he had buried in the Caribbean.

    This clever employment of “Kidd” and the allusion that it implies deepens the “gold” and treasure metaphor, continuing the revelation of the value the speaker has placed on this mysterious treasure of which she has become aware.

    Fifth Stanza:  Leaving the Mystery to Eternity

    Could a shrewd advise me
    We might e’en divide –
    Should a shrewd betray me –
    Atropos decide! 

    The speaker then makes a hilarious admission.  If someone who is smart enough to know whether she should reveal her treasure should let her know what is appropriate, she would be willing to give that person part of her treasure.  

    But she does not know if there is such a knowledgeable person who is trustworthy.  If she reveals her secret to the wrong “shrewd,” she might live to regret it.  She could be ridiculed and left to suffer much betrayal.

    By calling her potential advisor a “shrewd,” the speaker is making fun of such individuals whom she thinks might believe they are, in fact, capable of advising her.  But because she allows that a “shrewd” could likely betray her confidence, she remains ambivalent about seeking their advice.

    Instead of making a definite decision about whether to seek counsel from one of those shrewds, the speaker decides not to decide.  She will leave the decision to “Atropos,” one of the Greek Fates, who is responsible for deciding the exact time for the end of each human life.  Atropos held the scissors that cut the thread of life.

    The  speaker thus decides to leave her decision to the ultimate decision-maker, one whose decision is not only final but made without equivocation.   The speaker will remain in humble possession of her knowledge that she owns a mystic, creative soul that will from now on guide her in her creation of little dramas on her pathway through life.  

    Without having revealed her secret to the wide, gaping yet eyeless majority of the world, the speaker has revealed her secret only to those who will understand. It is in that respect that the speaker’s poem is like a parable of Lord Jesus the Christ, who spoke through that form only to those who had ears to hear.