Linda's Literary Home

Tag: poetry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    By such and such an offering

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

    Commentary on “By such and such an offering”

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

    First Movement:  The Undeclared

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  Completed Mystery

    The web of life woven –
    So martyrs albums show!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Snow flakes”

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Snow flakes”

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

    Introduction and Text of “Snow flakes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Riddle Poem?  Maybe Not

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

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

    Snow flakes

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

    Commentary on “Snow flakes”

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

    First Movement:  Dancing Snow Ballerinas

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  Capturing the Scene

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

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

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  Overwhelmed by Jolly Dancers

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

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

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

    Fourth Movement:  Itching to Dance

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

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

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

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

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

    Emily Dickinson’s “Nobody knows this little Rose”

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

    Introduction with Text of “Nobody knows this little Rose”

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

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

    Nobody knows this little Rose

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

    Commentary on “Nobody knows this little Rose”

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

    First Movement:  Lamentation for the Unknown

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  Only Missing

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  The Ease of Dying

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I taste a liquor never brewed

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

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

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

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

    Commentary on “I taste a liquor never brewed”

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

    Stanza 1:  Imbibing a Non-Brewed Beverage

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

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

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

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

    Stanza 2: It Resembles Being Drunk

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

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

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

    Stanza 3:  A Drunken State That Never Ceases

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

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

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

    Stanza 4;  The Dash That Runs to Eternity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    When Roses cease to bloom, Sir

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

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

    Commentary on “When Roses cease to bloom, Sir”

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

    First Movement:  Emphasis on Beauty

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  Evolution from Plant to Animal

    When Bumblebees in solemn flight
    Have passed beyond the Sun –

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

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

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  The Human in Creation

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Fourth Movement:  The Metaphysical Garden of Verse

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    If those I loved were lost 

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

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

    Commentary on “If those I loved were lost” 

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

    First Movement:   An Important Announcement 

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  The Significance of Loss 

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

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

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  Daisy and Death 

    Did those I loved repose
    The Daisy would impel me.

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

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

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

    Fourth Movement:  The Riddle of Loss

    Philip – when bewildered
    Bore his riddle in!

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

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

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

  • 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.