Linda's Literary Home

Tag: writing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

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

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

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

    First Movement:  A Cry of Consternation

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

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

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

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

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

    Second Movement:  The Potential for Winning

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

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

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

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

    Third Movement:  A Pride of Being

    From marshallings as simple
    The flags of nations swang.

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

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

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

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

    Fourth Movement:  The Soul’s Victory

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

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

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

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

    Obsolete Usage: “Swang”

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

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

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

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

  • Emily Dickinson’s “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 “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 “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 “My wheel is in the dark!”

    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 “My wheel is in the dark!”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “My wheel is in the dark!” is making a statement about knowing without sense perception.  This subject especially interested the poet, who was specifically concerned with issues such as immortality and life after death.

    Introduction and Text of “My wheel is in the dark!”

    Despite the grammatical error in the last line of Emily Dickinson’s “My wheel is in the dark!,” the speaker’s revelation shines through clearly and offers a unique perspective about the nature of understanding and explaining the ineffable.

    My wheel is in the dark!

    My wheel is in the dark!
    I cannot see a spoke
    Yet know its dripping feet
    Go round and round.

    My foot in on the Tide!
    An unfrequented road –
    Yet have all roads
    A clearing in the end –

    Some have resigned the Loom –
    Some in the busy tomb
    Find a quaint employ –

    Some with new – stately feet –
    Pass royal through the gate –
    Flinging the problem back
    At you and I!

    Commentary on “My wheel is in the dark!”

    Rendering information about the ineffable level of being is virtually impossible, but through use of poetic devices and other literary language that rendering becomes somewhat meaningful and therefore understandable to the mind and heart.

    First Stanza:  Vision by Implication

    My wheel is in the dark!
    I cannot see a spoke
    Yet know its dripping feet
    Go round and round.

    The speaker reports that she is capable of knowing that the spoke on a wheel moves in a circular motion as it drips water even though there is no light on the wheel.  She is revealing that she, as all human beings are, is able to infer information without direct sense perception that might otherwise reveal such knowledge.

    Human beings prefer to rely on what they can “see” or “hear.”  But sometimes seeing and hearing are not possible.  For example, human beings are convinced that love and hate both exist, even though they cannot see the concepts to which those nouns refer. 

    The ultimate argument ensues from the issue of whether God exists.  Some will argue that because he cannot “see” God, then God must not exist.  The argument runs further as the atheist insists that he also cannot hear, feel, taste, or touch God—and what cannot be experienced through the senses, therefore, does not exist.

    The speaker in “My wheel is in the dark!” thus counters such an argument by demonstrating that not only is metaphysical knowledge based on intuition and inference but also simple knowledge about things like wet wheels that go round and round in the dark.

    Second Stanza:  An Uncharted Path

    My foot in on the Tide!
    An unfrequented road –
    Yet have all roads
    A clearing in the end –

    The speaker continues with her comparison stating that she is walking an uncharted path, but she knows, again by intuition and inference, that this road will eventually lead to “a clearing.”  

    Despite the danger, such as would be experienced by having one’s foot “on the Tide,” the speaker can, with fairly great certainty, be assured that all the danger and complexity of the road she walks will end, and all will be understandable when she moves into that landscape which features clarity.

    The speaker places that clarity at the end, which is at the end of her life, a time at which she will come to the end of the path and enter the “clearing.”  Her “unfrequented road” is unique as is each road each soul must frequent as it passes through life on the physical level of being.

    Third Stanza t:  Resigning the Loom

    Some have resigned the Loom –
    Some in the busy tomb
    Find a quaint employ –

    The speaker now reports that others have departed from this world.  She indicates that departure by referring to their occupation while alive.  She colorfully claims that some of the folks who have died simply “resigned the Loom.” 

    But she does not offer a catalogue or list of what resigners have resigned.  By mentioning one earthly occupation only, she implies that that “Loom” not only refers to the occupation of weaving but also to the fabric that exists as life itself.

    Thus those “some” that have “resigned” from the fabric of life find a different way to engage their time and effort “in the busy tomb”; she claims that they “find a quaint employ.” 

    The speaker is reporting from her intuition that after death the soul will continue its engagements, even though its engagements after leaving the physical encasement will be different.  They nevertheless will be “quaint,” an obviously optimistic claim.

    Fourth Stanza:  Remaining Mum about the Afterlife

    Some with new – stately feet –
    Pass royal through the gate –
    Flinging the problem back
    At you and I!

    Those souls who will remain busy with quaint engagements, however, are not the only class of souls that the speaker intuits.  In addition to those who engage in the those quaint pursuits, there are those who will become similar to royalty.  They will possess “stately feet” and enter the kingdom of heaven on those stately feet.

    The speaker then returns to the world but without any definitive answer about what the real differences are between life and afterlife.  When those of the royal, stately feet pass through that gate into paradise, they will not reveal their new experiences; they will simply be “flinging the problem” into the faces of those left watching for wheels “in the dark” and walking “on the Tide.”  

    Only those who have actually passed through that heavenly gate will understand what that experience offers.  Thus we–”you and I”–will continue to speculate about that experience, as the speaker has done in this poem and the many more that are to come.

    Dickinson and Grammar

    As Dickinson’s readers discover, the poet often misspelled words and left her grammatical constructions a little cockeyed.  Thomas H. Johnson, the editor of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, who restored her poems to their near originals, has revealed that he did correct some misspellings. 

    And it remains unclear why he left the inaccurate grammatical construction, “At you and I!”; the correct pronoun form in that prepositional phrase is “me” instead of “I”—the objective case is required after a preposition.  

    A reason for leaving such an error could be to complete a rime scheme, but that is not the case with this line.  As a matter of fact, by inserting “me” instead of “I,” a partial rime would be achieved: “feet” would become a partial rime with “me.”    Nevertheless, this problem remains a slight one. No meaning is lost despite the grammatical error.   Such errors may interfere with the total enjoyment of a poem.

    However, readers need not become alarmed about them unless they interfere with understanding. Luckily, this error does not confound meaning, and comprehension of the poem remains clear and unobstructed, despite the slight distraction that inaccurate pronoun inflicts.