daydreama.co.uk

email: daydreama@daydreama.co.uk

DOES DREAMATISATION DRIVE YOUR DAY?

By the Fib-Fib-Fabricator

DREAMATISING ME: POET PHILOSOPHER, WRITER LIAR.

Rilke Vertraulich tod

Namenlos bin ich zu dir entschlossen, von weit her.

Immer warst du im Recht, und dein heiliger Einfall ist der vertrauliche Tod.

Siehe, ich lebe. Woraus? Weder Kindheit noch Zukunft werden weniger . . . . . Überzähliges Dasein entspringt mir im Herzen.

Anonymously, I have decided to be with you from afar. You have always been right, and your highest idea is confident death.

Behold, I live. As what? Neither childhood nor future grow less. . . . . Superpositioned existence wells up in my heart.

Some stuff for Poetry in Practice with the Milgor Fab Bro, Nicky Melville, week 4 November 2023: The Poet Philosopher Writer Liar loves to leave his lair to share others air. Entanglement in action. Please see my 3 works for week 4 here->

Work 1

"Profoundly cut-up: poetry comes.

13 tup mines

made from words that are not.

It can be any junk cereal—

and poetry comes.

stochastic processes physically crap a few.

When placed in a blank spectre lurking in the background

The poetry comes.

the semantic shit signs through manipulation.

The strategy of appropriation is to exist

to give new Fitter Feeble and Bitter Love-

poetry comes"

Work 2, inspired by "Pure Creamnation" advert on TV,

"we are the living desecration generation

we are the living desecration generation

nothing is sacred but human perpetuation

nothing is sacred except minority extermination

nothing is sacred but flora and fauna extinction

nothing is sacred but planetary pollution

nothing is sacred other than baseless speculation

nothing is sacred but othernesses condemnation

nothing sacred except greedy selfish profitization

nothing is sacred but opinion polarization

nothing is sacred but war between nation and nation

nothing is sacred barring racial segregation

nothing is sacred but the medias constant defamation

nothing is sacred but the poor mans meagre ration

nothing is sacred except disseminating false information

nothing is sacred but responsabilities abnegation

nothing is sacred bar the avoidance of obligation

nothing is sacred but universal trivialisation

I'm scared that its a natural part of human evolution

nothing is sacred, and will be sacred-save for desecration!"

Work 3

A Poetic Epistle-Me to Emily.

I met you on a dreamy path-

we talked in your flower bower-

we bared the babel tower-

we had a good laugh!

we oft walked the dreamy path-

now hand in hand-

on the oceans salty sand-

muting the multiverses wrath!

Me the slavish master-

Me caught by your tether-

We forever together-

My mistress alabaster?

Being with you through your words,

I Heard the dawn chorus of birds

We are walking upon the level shore

And brood on love's thaumaturgy no more.

i a poem laden earthquake

epicentre of a fanciful flight

with you in dreams now awake

but hap'ly do remember the night

coupleted in flowery brake

with pomes penetrating insight

Emily are you there?

Or are you upstair,

Doing your hair?

For to visit Scarborough' fair-

No, your head's in a book-

Is this tempting tome new?

Let me sit and have a look?

We can read together on your pew-

dreaming in your crannied nook.

The night is ebbing fast-

should we go to taste the dew?

It could be our last.

So we watched the dawn-

The flowers You and i-

Like the birth of a fawn-

Like the blood red sky

And in a moment-

We did bee like fly-

To nectar torment-

By ambrosia to die.

Your god went with us-

For a whispering while-

I caressed your puss-

As we in the arbour played-

He fled a country mile-

But we enslaved stayed.

Why is your cheek red-

Was it what we did?

Was it a word i said-

As i into you slid?

Tell me sapphic maid-

Did you not for this bid?

You wrote then to me of love-

Your signor paramour-

you wrote of ecstasy's dove-

Damoiselle de la Mort-

As we sat sated in the grove-

You asked me coyly for more

Our eyes opened wide-

We both deeply sighed-

We knew in waking we had died.

Also see below the first part of one of my current works in progress.

Daydreaming with Emily Dickinson: A poetic Duologue

by Day Dreama

When you choose one word,

Then you become part truth.

Then you become a liar.

When you know you are liar,

Then you become truth,

Then truth becomes you.

(Dreamatisation or super poetisation in action! See Keatsean Negative capability(1) and Paul Dirac's "Superpostion of two Translational States" of a photon.)

First there was the light or was it the lie?

Should we stand idly by and watch our future die?

We can write the wrongs by singing our own songs

See the also theprosperopapers.co.uk

(1) my version (with a bit of Karl Popper added), Keats had just read King Lear apparently: "Shakspeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after [irrefutable] fact and reason."

Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition. Keats, John. Complete Works of John Keats (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) (Kindle Locations 10846-10847). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

Visual Versification, Peering Ploughman?

Taras Shevchenko's Ukrainian pain our pain.

Copy of say cheshire cheese doc.doc

Daydreaming with Emily Dickinson-1850 to 1857

Me and Emily-a poetic duologue

Preface

This is a peripatetic perambulation via a duologue between Emily Dickinson and me and our Poetry. I have embarked on this due her words, that had stunned me with an amazing questioning, insightful intuition which I wished to intimately share with her. I have taken each of her works, in a rough chronological order, and created mini versified dialogues with her. I desired to do this because her poetry contained all sorts of imagery that I could relate to: from truthful looks of alabaster agony to swinging arcs of light that reminded me of multi-hued galaxies gyrating endlessly through my dreams into space-time. It is act of love. This work is an example of stichomythia that brings together poetically and philosophically, hand in hand me and Emily, a dramatic dreamtime walkabout of the imagination. Or in my parlance: dreamatisation. Emily with tender skill describes her Poetic Persona well:

“This is my letter to the world,

That never wrote to me, —

The simple news that Nature told,

With tender majesty.

Her message is committed

To hands I cannot see;

For love of her, sweet countrymen,

Judge tenderly of me! “

A Poetic Epistle-Me to Emily.

I met you on a dreamy path-

we talked in your flower bower-

we bared the babel tower-

we had a good laugh!

we oft walked the dreamy path-

now hand in hand-

on the oceans salty sand-

muting the multiverses wrath!

Me the slavish master-

Me caught by your tether-

We forever together-

My mistress alabaster?

Being with you through your words,

I Heard the dawn chorus of birds

We are walking upon the level shore

And brood on love's thaumaturgy no more.

i a poem laden earthquake

epicentre of a fanciful flight

with you in dreams now awake

but hap'ly do remember the night

coupleted in flowery brake

with pomes penetrating insight

Emily are you there?

Or are you upstair,

Doing your hair?

For to visit Scarborough' fair-

No, your head's in a book-

Is this tempting tome new?

Let me sit and have a look?

We can read together on your pew-

dreaming in your crannied nook.

The night is ebbing fast-

should we go to taste the dew?

It could be our last.

So we watched the dawn-

The flowers You and i-

Like the birth of a fawn-

Like the blood red sky

And in a moment-

We did bee like fly-

To nectar torment-

By ambrosia to die.

Your god went with us-

For a whispering while-

I caressed your puss-

As we in the arbour played-

He fled a country mile-

But we enslaved stayed.

Why is your cheek red-

Was it what we did?

Was it a word i said-

As i into you slid?

Tell me sapphic maid-

Did you not for this bid?

You wrote then to me of love-

Your signor paramour-

you wrote of ecstasy's dove-

Damoiselle de la Mort-

As we sat sated in the grove-

You asked me coyly for more

Our eyes opened wide-

We both deeply sighed-

We knew in waking we had died.

Poems 1850

Emily: “Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,

unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!”

Me, amused Muse:”I will capture him as I awake

from mount Parnasuses dreamy brake,

I'll bind him for you-for poesies love sake”

Emily:”Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,

for sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain,

all things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,

God hath made nothing single but thee in his world so fair!

The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,

Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;

the life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,

who will not serve the sovreign, be hanged on fatal tree.

The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,

none cannot find who seeketh on this terrestrial ball;

The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,

and they make a merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;

the wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,

and the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.”

Me, amused Muse:”You clearly have sipped from Hippocrene's fount

When the lower slopes of Helicon you did mount.

There you did feel and see

the depth of your soulful poetry.

Pray allow your words to flow,

they fields of pleasure in me do sow”

Emily:”The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,

the wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,

their spirits meet together, they make them solemn vows,

no more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.

The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,

night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;

Earth is a merry damsel, and Heaven a knight so true,

and Earth is quite coquettish, and he seemeth in vain to sue.

Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,

to bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul;

thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,

wilt have no kind companion, thou reap'st what thou hast sown.

Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,

and a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?

There's Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,

and Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!

Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see

six true, and comely maidens sitting opon the tree;

approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,

and seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!

Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,

and give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower;

and bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat opon the drum -

and bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!

Me, amused Muse: “Your request shall be fulfilled creative one,

your dreams are born of Nectar that drive Apollo's sun.

We will grow a bower for thee,

that will go down in history,

though you will find your own seaward river to run

your own eternal audience to stun”

Poems 1851

Emily: “There is another sky,

There is another sky,

Ever serene and fair,

And there is another sunshine,

Though it be darkness there;

Never mind faded forests, Austin,

Never mind silent fields --

Here is a little forest,

Whose leaf is ever green;

Here is a brighter garden,

Where not a frost has been;

In its unfading flowers

I hear the bright bee hum;

Prithee, my brother,

Into my garden come!”

Me, brotherly muse: “I see you have found your voice,

a New England garden rose's choice,

and in it you find your natural place

and into it I breathless chase”

Poems 1852

Emily: “Sic transit Gloria mundi

Sic transit gloria mundi

"How doth the busy bee"

Dum vivamus vivamus

I stay mine enemy!”

Me morning glory muse:”cogito ergo sum

cogito ergo sum

“yo ho ho and a bottle of rum”

longum vitae carmen,

Your foe fears your song and flees!”

Emily: “Oh veni vidi vici!

Oh caput cap-a-pie!

And oh "memento mori"

When I am far from thee”

Me mourning glory muse:”poetica sine verbis,

is the art of hit or miss!

is wearing black amiss?

When we cannot kiss”

Emily: “Hurrah for Peter Parley

Hurrah for Daniel Boone

Three cheers sir, for the gentleman

Who first observed the moon”

Me morning glory muse: “Three cheers for Janet and John

three cheers for Francis Drake

Hurrah for the astronaut

who the first space walk did make”

Emily: “Peter put up the sunshine!

Pattie arrange the stars

Tell Luna, tea is waiting

And call your brother Mars”

Me morning glory muse:“Paul set the universes table!

Pamela dark matter cake bake

Tell Gaia, tea is served

If she can be bothered to wake.”

Emily:” Put down the apple Adam

And come away with me

So shal't thou have a pippin

From off my Father's tree!”

Me morning glory muse: “remove your rib Adam

and make a woman of me

together we can grow another branch

Of our family fig tree!”

Emily: ”I climb the "Hill of Science"

I "view the Landscape o'er"

Such transcendental prospect

I ne'er beheld before!”

Me morning glory muse: “You drink of the fount of knowledge

You see space and time fly

this “translational status”

You'll see when you dream or die!”

Emily: “Unto the Legislature

My country bids me go,

I'll take my india rubbers

In case the wind should blow.”

Me mourning glory muse: “the white house beckons,

“fuss and feathers” makes another stand

did you vote for him?

his country dividing sword in hand.

Emily: “During my education

It was announced to me

That gravitation stumbling

Fell from an apple tree”

Me morning glory muse: “i see you behind your desk,

learning joyfully natural philosophy-

the gravity of what it is to be

sitting with Newton 'neath an apple tree”

Emily: “The Earth upon it's axis

Was once supposed to turn

By way of a gymnastic

In honor to the sun”

Me morning glory muse: “Your planet is a spinning sphere

that you see running like a clockwork gear

by way of acrobats magic

honouring the solar year”

Emily: “It was the brave Columbus

A sailing o'er the tide

Who notified the nations

Of where I would reside”

Me morning glory muse:”Was it the Santa Maria and Pinto

or was eric the red who on a viking raid

Newfound a land in which to plant their Mayflower?

Its where your hens have now white eggs laid

And here the pilgrim fathers have stayed”

Emily: “Mortality is fatal

Gentility is fine

Rascality, heroic

Insolvency, sublime”

Me mourning glory muse: “ destiny is terminal

civility is nice,

Knavery, homeric

Venality, godlike”

Emily:” Our Fathers being weary

Laid down on Bunker Hill

And though full many a morn'g

Yet they are sleeping still”

Me mourning gory muse:”they were weary of tax

so threw the tea into the sea

and were by their collectors attacked

and now slumbering heroes be!”

Emily: “The trumpet sir, shall wake them

In streams I see them rise

Each with a solemn musket

A marching to the skies!”

Me mourning gory muse:”from dead soldiers dream they come

from river lethe's embrace they emerge

their weapons still drawn

to their warring guilt purge?”

Emily:”A coward will remain, Sir,

Until the fight is done;

But an immortal hero

Will take his hat & and run.”

Me Mourning gory muse: “You see the battlefield well

the brave do not kill

they bear all hell

and live on still”

Emily: “Good bye Sir, I am going

My country calleth me

Allow me Sir, at parting

To wipe my weeping e'e”

Me Mourning Gory muse:”you watch your lover leave

answering his country's call

the blind leading the blind in ranks

It's a death march, so your tears fall”

Emily:” In token of our friendship

Accept this "Bonnie Doon"

And when the hand that pluck'd it

Hath passed beyond the moon”

Me mourning gory muse:”He gave you a parting posey

you knew his touch so well

his finger brushed yours

a caress that forebode a blood soaked hell ”

Emily: “The memory of my ashes

Will consolation be

Then farewell Tuscarora

And farewell Sir, to thee.”

Me mourning gory muse:”Your remains return

in a memorial urn

goodbye my lover

for you I eternally yearn”

Poems 1853

Emily: ”On this wondrous sea

On this wondrous sea

Sailing silently,

Ho! Pilot, ho!

Knowest thou the shore

Where no breakers roar -

Where the storm is oero'er ?”

Me all at sea muse: “We Ride the superposed waves

we Ride the superposed waves

silent as graves

Nature do you know

where they will come to rest

in what safe harbour be blessed (arbor make our crows nest?)

When time tames each stormy crest?

Emily: “In the peaceful west

Many the sails at rest -

The anchors fast -

Thither I pilot thee -

Land Ho! Eternity!

Ashore at last!”

Me all at sea muse:”In the twilit lands

Our mooring stands

safe are all hands

superposed waves to here did us propel

we enter the infinite quantum well

forever together we will dwell.”

Poems 1854

Emily: “I have a Bird in spring

Which for myself doth sing -

The spring decoys.

And as the summer nears -

And as the Rose appears,

Robin is gone.”

Migratory me muse:”when snowdrops have new sprung

when a cheeky bird to each of us had sung-

Blue lights are seen in his eyes

so as the days extend their hours

and roses bloom in our bowers

then south blue lit the robin flies.”

Emily: “Yet do I not repine

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown -

Learneth beyond the sea

Melody new for me

And will return.”

Migratory me muse: “you're right we shouldn't regret

trusting Puck's homing sights are set

he's girdling the world

with an all seeing blue cry 2 eye

to return by and by

with a song for your new year ear”

Emily: “Fast in a safer hand

Held in a truer Land

Are mine -

And though they now depart,

Tell I my doubting heart

They're thine.”

Migratory me muse:”they fly to the land of sleep

and safe true tears of joy weep

for me to keep.

For even if they are from me now gone

they still sing me a sweet solitary song

sow and ye shall reap”

Emily: “In a serener Bright,

In a more golden light

I see

Each little doubt and fear,

Each little discord here

Removed.”

Migratory me muse:”the entangled birds blue light

shows you as precious and bright,

you can be free

embrace your every doubt

embrace your uncertainty

in negative capability”

Emily: “Then will I not repine,

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown

Shall m a distant tree

Bright melody for me

Return.”

Migratory me muse:”so it comes and goes

my beloved little rose”

Poetic Preambles-Me to Emily 1858

Emily are you there?

Or are you upstair-

Doing your hair?

My post-coital au pair-

together we despair

Morpheus's geranium ambassador

Held my prospecting dreamers hand-

In case i embarrassed her

While walking about her land-

Which was her pride and joy-

Thus had become a lovers ploy

to enable me to just hold her and-

friends for benefits diplomacy deploy

1858 51 Packeted Poems

Emily: “I robbed the Woods

The trusting Woods.

The unsuspecting Trees

Brought out their

Burs and mosses

My fantasy to please.

I scanned their trinkets curious --

I grasped -- I bore away --

What will the solemn Hemlock --

What will the Oak tree say? “

Me, the Oak tree:

”You burgled us you admit.

as floras guest we let you in-

you cultivated us with your wit-

and you rewarded us with sin-

just to please your curiousness-

you took your thicket pick-

I ancient old tree stand witness-

to the crime of passion-

that you did commit-

in such a blasé fashion”

Emily: “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!”

Me, passing thee: “You wake I see

not with alacrity,

asking me as I march marshally by

in step to the windowed sky-

times arrow in my quiver hung-

Shall it victorious fly?

So a song was sung

and our banner rose

children of war did issue forth

so death came before birth”

Emily: “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!”

Me the bee: “I buzzed to your nectar heart

as aurora lifted her lips

and drank of your essence in sips

So as the dawn did depart

I to your breezy glade did fly

fragrant apple of my eye.

Then by and by

you tasted my honey

summers harvest rose sunny.

I hope it wasn't too runny

funny bunny, yummy”

Emily: “Adrift! A little boat adrift!

And night is coming down!

Will no one guide a little boat

Unto the nearest town?”

Me lost at sea: “rudderless! An aimless Argo!

As crepuscular cloak the sky doth import

where are aimless wandering stars

their waves to sweep us safe to port?”

Emily: “So Sailors say -- on yesterday --

Just as the dusk was brown

One little boat gave up it's strife

And gurgled down and down.”

Me lost at sea:”seaman speaking one sweep of sun ago

when the gloaming was stealing in

An aimless Argo lost its fight

its just sinking in”

Emily: “So angels say -- On yesterday --

Just as the dawn was red

One little boat -- o'erspent with gales --

Retrimmed it's masts -- redecked it's sails --

And shot -- exultant on!”

Me lost at sea: “stars speaking one sweep of sun ago

when morning sky was warning

the aimless Argo victim of zephyrs passion

rigging was reset ship shape fashion

and rode a wave of ecstasy “

Emily: “Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whippowil
And Oriole -- are done!”

summery me: “you're sun for me, you set me free

even when summer sun has gone!

Your my hearts song

even when birds south have flown!”

Emily:”For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me --
Anemone --
Thy flower – forevermore!”

Summery me:”your petals part, opening my heart

you wind blown child I find

I'll fill your vase

my floral fairy

My nymph Aeolian do I ever myself bind”

Emily: “All these my banners be.

I sow my pageantry In May --

It rises train by train --

Then sleeps in state again --

My chancel -- all the plain

Today.”

Errantry Me:”you raise your flags aloft

you sow a rainbow tableau in spring

it shows its secrets bit by bit

lets you sleep on it

seek sanctuary as a hermit

so solo sing.”

Emily:”To lose -- if one can find again --

To miss -- if one shall meet --

The Burglar cannot rob -- then --

The Broker cannot cheat.”

Me master botany: “You misplace- to discover

you yearn for your lover

the thief can't thieve

stock sharer is no deceiver”

Emily: “So build the hillocks gaily

Thou little spade of mine

Leaving nooks for Daisy

And for Columbine --

You and I the secret

Of the Crocus know --”

Let us chant it softly --

"There is no more snow!"

Me Botany:”pile the earth with careful glee

shovel in mine horticultural hand

spaces for Freya's flowers are kept free

for venus's dove we save some land

we know rainbow presages growing gold

let us sing to it capriciously

“Away away jack frost's killing cold”

Emily: “to him who keeps an Orchis' heart --

The swamps are pink with June.”

Me Botany: “the gods fecund Orchid doth grow

June swamped with summer's pink come”

Emma: “As if I asked a

common Alms,

And in my wondering

hand

A Stranger pressed

a Kingdom,

And I, bewildered,

stand -

me in poverty: “if i was begging on the street

and in my hat keys to a kingdom did land

from a Samaritans goodly passing heart,

would I shocked to the core ,

stand and shake his giving hand-”

Emily: “As if I asked the Orient

Had it for me

a Morn -

And it should lift

it's purple Dikes,

And shatter Me

with Dawn!”

me in poverty:”if I asked the eastern sky

is there for you to give

auroras display

for my eyes to feast

on its empyrean sights

and gladly relive

nights delicious foreplay”

Emily: ”Once more, my now bewildered Dove

Bestirs her puzzled wings

Once more her mistress, on the deep

Her troubled question flings –“

Me peacefully:”I'll send you with the crow

as Venus's emissary on the wing

to be the finder of land o'er sea

to your questioning song sing-”

Emily:”Thrice to the floating casement

The Patriarch's bird returned,

Courage! My brave Columba!

There may yet be Land!”

Me peacefully:”three times you to arks cote

Dove of Noah you flew home-

Fly away brave bird-be free-

an olive branch may you bring! “

Emily:”Baffled for just a day or two --
Embarrassed -- not afraid --
Encounter in my garden
An unexpected Maid.”

me naturally:”confused for a few days

red in face-not out of phase

a maidens Eden meeting

did me amaze”

Emily:”She beckons, and the woods start --
She nods, and all begin --
Surely, such a country
I was never in!”

me naturally:”Nature calls me to budding commence

Her head holds my reverence,

as the land glows and grows

wondrous for each and every sense!

Emily: “Before the ice is in the pools -

Before the skaters go,

Or any cheek at nightfall

Is tarnished by the snow -”

Me autumnally? :”'ere the fish do freeze

'ere the sledgers sledge,

or a flake is on the breeze

or icicle forms on window ledge

Emily: “Before the fields have finished -

Before the Christmas tree,

Wonder opon wonder -

Will arrive to me!”

Me Autumnally?:”'ere the fields are fallow

'ere Noel carols are sung-

the disappeared swallow

My bells will have rung!”

Emily:” What we touch the hems of

On a summer's day -

What is only walking

Just a bridge away -”

Me Autumnally?:”what's touched by suns last rays

on a druids solar giving days

what's only in passing

nigh a river crossing”

Emily:”That which sings so - speaks so -

When there's no one here -

Will the frock I wept in

Answer me to wear?”

Me Autumnally?:”the chorused choir-that doth orate

to an audienceless hall-

doth my habit tearful create

solutions faithful to fall?

Emily:”By such and such an offering

To Mr So and So -

The web of life is woven -

So martyrs albums show!”

Me Mr charity: “just a by and by donation

to master nobody-

a drop in life's ocean-

seen in saints stoned body!”

F36A - If I should die

Emily:”If I should die -

And you should live -

And time sh'd gurgle on -

And morn sh'd beam -

And noon should burn -

As it has usual done -”

Me Eternally:”were I to depart

and you to stay-

and clock still tick-

and dawn still smile-

and midday ray still flay-

It's only just another day-”

Emily:”If Birds should build as early

And Bees as bustling go -

One might depart at option

From enterprise below!”

Me Eternally:”As nesters nest at break of day

and hives sing with honey'd voice-

if one had a idle watchers choice-

one may while the day away!”

Emily:”Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand

When we with Daisies lie -

That Commerce will continue -

And Trades as briskly fly -”

Me Eternally:”its nice to think flowers will still grow

when we are lying in gravestone row

That shops will open be

selling madly-nothing for free-”

Emily:”It makes the parting tranquil

And keeps the soul serene -

That gentlemen so sprightly

Conduct the pleasing scene!”

Me Eternally:”it makes the passing away easy

and allows us reflective space--

That reverends so breezy

aid our deserting the rat race!”

Emily: “By Chivalries as tiny,
A Blossom, or a Book,
The seeds of smiles are planted -
Which blossom in the dark.”

Knightly Me?:”by small acts of politeness

like a given rose or read prose-

are sown the corms of kindness

which come to life when eyes close”

J43 - Could live -- did live --

Emily:”Could live -- did live --
Could die -- did die --
Could smile upon the whole
T[h]rough faith in one he met not,
To introduce his soul.”

Me Possibly:” possible to be—real to be

possible demise, real demise

possible infinity seen in happy eyes

unknown ghosts in him roam fancy free

allowing him across a bridge of sighs”

Emily:”Could go from scene familiar
To an untraversed spot --
Could contemplate the journey
With unpuzzled heart --

Such trust had one among us,
Among us not today –“

Me Possibly:”possible from home to depart-

to a place unmapped-

Possible for a trip to us enrapt

with a clarity of heart-

I knew one such now dead-

who knew they'd to the eternal be led--

Emily:”We who saw the launching
Never sailed the Bay!”

Me Possibly:”In awe we saw the boat's anchor weigh

We who yet ne'er sailed so far away!”

J44 - If she had been the Mistletoe

Emily:”If she had been the Mistletoe
And I had been the Rose --
How gay upon your table
My velvet life to close --”

Christmassy Me:”were she a kissing berry to bear-

and I a thorny bloom had become-

your laughing people-would they care

If I departed life dove lonesome--”

Emily:”Since I am of the Druid,
And she is of the dew --
I'll deck Tradition's buttonhole --
And send the Rose to you.”

Christmassy Me:”as I a pagan be

she a believer true

I'll deck some holy

and post rosy bloom to you”

J20 - 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.

Me mistrustfully?:”blue flamed dissembling flower

you would make Pluto turn around

from despoiling Persephone's Bower-

I tire sudden of my hymnal sound

tired of pain in violet hour

the first cold will not me confound

nor shall petrifying winter shower”

Emily:”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.”

Me mistrustfully?:”the ghostly grasses do retreat

from the insects proboscis probe

milk of kindness drips from driest teat

heard by swarms on dying globe-

red sky fires the steeple

to departing shadow's sight

a place for good people-

to from life's train to alight.”

J21 - We lose -- because we win --

Emily:“We lose -- because we win --
Gamblers -- recollecting which
Toss their dice again!”

Chancy Me?:”to fail-is to gain-

chancers-know this

e'er addicts to gaming pain “

6 - Frequently the woods are pink --

Emily:”Frequently the woods are pink --
Frequently are brown.
Frequently the hills undress
Behind my native town.

Me Frequently:”often the trees do flush

often they're tanned

often bare hills do blush

where my home doth stand”

Emily:”Oft a head is crested
I was wont to see --
And as oft a cranny
Where it used to be --”

Me Frequently:”habit has feathered hat

happy was that sight

habit has a nook

for feathers fluttery flight-

Emily: “And the Earth -- they tell me --
On it's Axis turned!
Wonderful Rotation!
By but twelve performed!”

Me Frequently:”And the world-so im told

spins like a top!

Motion so bold!

It daily turns-ne'er to stop!”

J34 - Garlands for Queens, may be --

Emily:”Garlands for Queens, may be --
Laurels -- for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah -- but remembering me --
Ah -- but remembering thee --
Nature in chivalry --
Nature in charity --
Nature in equity --
The Rose ordained!”

Memory Me?:”perhaps leias for crowned bees

poetic awards-fame decrees

for heart or bloody blade

oh recalling I do see

oh recalling you free

kind courteous arboured knight

kind generous with might

kind virtuous fair right

The Rose did please”

J35 - Nobody knows this little Rose --

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

Me Fatally:”this wee rose has no renown

was Chaucer's prayer mayhap

And I cut it ruthless down

for you lay in your lap”

Emily:”Only a Bee will miss it --
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey --
On it's breast to lie -- “

Me Fatally:”who will miss its nectar?
Who will miss its pollen?

Only the gossamer spectre

will be crestfallen--

Emily:”Only a Bird will wonder --
Only a Breeze will sigh --
Ah Little Rose -- how easy
For such as thee to die!”

Me Fatally:”who will in nest muse

upon bereft zephyr fly

My wee rose to pick and choose

such an easy way to die”

J46 - I keep my pledge.

Emily:”I keep my pledge.
I was not called --
Death did not notice me.”

Promissory Me?:”I toast my promise

As there was no summons

the reaper had overlooked my demise

Emily:”I bring my Rose.
I plight again,
By every sainted Bee --
By Daisy called from hillside --”

Promissory Me?:”my rose did rise again

I toast my promise

on the honeycomb workers refrain

as Freya's flower did pure rise

Emily:”By Bobolink from lane.
Blossom and I --
Her oath, and mine --
Will surely come again.”

Promissory Me?:”bird song along the way

petal shower in the sky-

Our vow to death stay

will surely happen many a day-

J47 - Heart! We will forget him!

Emily:”Heart! We will forget him!
You and I -- tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave --
I will forget the light!”

Me Forgetfully?:”Oh beating desire him forgo

Me and my desires delight

Desire you may bury his afterglow

Me I bury his visage bright-

Emily:”When you have done, pray tell me
That I may straight begin!
Haste! lest while you're lagging
I remember him!”

Me Forgetfully?:”desire say when you're done

so I can start afresh!

Don't be tardy loving one-

or he may rise in me again like a sun!”

F44B - The guest is gold and crimson

Emily:”The Guest is gold and crimson -
An Opal guest, and gray -
Of ermine is his doublet -
His Capuchin gay-”

Me flightily:”welcome is he in red and yellow

a gem when he visits our table

he's a feathery fellow

and his hood is sable”

Emily:”He reaches town at nightfall -
He stops at every door -
Who looks for him at morning -
I pray him too - explore
The Lark's pure territory -
Or the Lapwing's shore!”

Me flightily:”he flies in as sun dips his head

he visits every home and is fed

will he be at new day found

I hope safe and sound

to survey larks homestead-

or the lapwings ground!”

F45A - I counted till they danced so

Emily:”I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town -
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down -

Terpsichore Me? “I watched their dancing feet

as they clumped up and down

then I wrote notes discrete

to devil's seed disown”

Emily:”And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig -
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!”

Terpsichore Me? “as they prance and joyous enthuse

I changed my mind then

and let my eager feet choose

freely to gigue Terpsichorean!”

F12A - I had a guinea golden

Emily:”I had a guinea golden -
I lost it in the sand -
And tho' the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land -
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye -
That when I could not find it -
I sat me down to sigh.”

Morality Me?:”I had a sovereign in my hand

but lost it on the green-

just a guinea to pay on demand

just a drop in the ocean

but it was a woe to me

I knew-ne'er more to be seen

I sadly sat under a willow tree”

Emily:”I had a crimson Robin -
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted -
He - too - did fly away -”

Morality Me?:”I had a scarlet breasted thrush

whose song the blues did eschew

but when the trees did blush

he too I lost to distant pastures new.”

Emily:”Time brought me other Robins -
Their ballads were the same -
Still, for my missing Troubadour
I kept the "house at hame".”

Morality Me?:”the years new painted thrushes brought

their voices seemed not to change

but for my minstrel lost I gave thought-

kept a place beside my range”

Emily:”I had a star in heaven -
One "Pleiad" was it's name -

And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same -”

Morality Me?:”A star in the sky I did possess

one of the 7 sisters well known-

and when I attended her less

she apart from me had blown”

Emily:” And tho' the skies are crowded -
And all the night ashine -
I do not care about it -
Since none of them are mine -”

Morality Me?:”even though myriad stars are spangled

that to our eyes do in darkness glow

they are not in my web entangled

not just mine to have and know

Emily:”My story has a moral -
I have a missing friend -
"Pleiad" it's name - and Robin -
And guinea in the sand - “

Morality Me?:”this tale has a moral at you aimed

I have a friend unseen

Sister and painted thrush they are named
with sovereign lost on the green”

Emily:”And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear -
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here -”

Morality Me?:”and finding this sad tale

writ by your tearful candle lit

I will meet your accusing gaze

As I near and far to you sit”

Emily:”Grant that repentance solemn
May seize opon his mind -
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.”

Morality Me?:”I do repent that you I cant meet

It plays upon my thought withal-

this is for me a sunless cruel conceit-

but your lost words do now me enthral.”

Emily:”I hav'nt told my garden yet -
Lest that should conquer me.
I hav'nt quite the strength now
To break it to the Bee -”

Me Die Silently?:”I couldn't bring myself to tell

My little Eden about my end

I couldn't myself impel

to the ear of Melissa bend- “

Emily:”I will not name it in the street
For shops we'd stare at me -
That one so shy - so ignorant
Should have the face to die.”

Me Die Silently?:”I won't say it out loud

to the street shops so sly

that me so bashful so proud

should outstare the reapers eye”

Emily:”The hillsides must not know it -
Where I have rambled so -
Nor tell the loving forests
The day that I shall go -”

Me Die Silently?:” I won't tell it on the mountain

where often I did walk

or to the trees maintain

when gated with St Peter I'll talk”

Emily:”Nor lisp it at the table -
Nor heedlees(heedless) by the way
Hint that within the Riddle
One will walk today -”

Me Die Silently?:”I won't Chinese whisper at supper

or carelessly say at play

any clue to my mystery scupper-

to give my grim game away-”

Emily:”I never lost as much but twice -
And that was in the sod.
Twice have I stood a beggar
Before the door of God!”

Godly Me?:”Only once in twos did I lose

when I did soil Excavate

I did a double pauper pose

at the foot of the Pearly gate”

Emily:”Angels - twice descending
Reimbursed my store -
Burglar! Banker - Father!
I am poor once more! “

Godly Me?:”But Gabriel's double entry

cleared me of my debt-

Robber! Baron-sentry!

By sins penury I am again beset!”

Appendix:

A biography of Emily Dickinson taken from:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson

visited on 25/05/2023

“Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Little-known during her life, she has since been regarded as one of the most important figures in American poetry.[2] Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, into a prominent family with strong ties to its community. After studying at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she briefly attended the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's home in Amherst. Evidence suggests that Dickinson lived much of her life in isolation. Considered an eccentric by locals, she developed a penchant for white clothing and was known for her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even to leave her bedroom. Dickinson never married, and most friendships between her and others depended entirely upon correspondence.[3]

While Dickinson was a prolific writer, her only publications during her lifetime were 10 of her nearly 1,800 poems, and one letter.[4] The poems published then were usually edited significantly to fit conventional poetic rules. Her poems were unique for her era; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.[5] Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends, and also explore aesthetics, society, nature, and spirituality.[6]

Although Dickinson's acquaintances were most likely aware of her writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Dickinson's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that her work became public. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, though both heavily edited the content. A complete collection of her poetry became available for the first time when scholar Thomas H. Johnson published The Poems of Emily Dickinson in 1955.[7] In 1998, The New York Times reported on an infrared technology study revealing that much of Dickinson's work had been deliberately censored to exclude the name "Susan".[8] At least eleven of Dickinson's poems were dedicated to her sister-in-law Susan Huntington Gilbert Dickinson, though all the dedications were obliterated, presumably by Todd.[8] These edits work to censor the nature of Emily and Susan's relationship, which many scholars have interpreted as romantic.[9][10][11]

Life: Family and early childhood

By Otis Allen Bullard - Houghton Library, Harvard University, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52269542 The Dickinson Children (Emily on the left), c. 1840. From the Dickinson Room at Houghton

Library, Harvard University.

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was born at the family's homestead in Amherst, Massachusetts, on December 10, 1830, into a prominent, but not wealthy, family.[12] Her father, Edward Dickinson was a lawyer in Amherst and a trustee of Amherst College.[13] Two hundred years earlier, her patrilineal ancestors had arrived in the New World—in the Puritan Great Migration—where they prospered.[14] Emily Dickinson's paternal grandfather, Samuel Dickinson, was one of the founders of Amherst College.[15] In 1813, he built the Homestead, a large mansion on the town's Main Street, that became the focus of Dickinson family life for the better part of a century.[16] Samuel Dickinson's eldest son, Edward, was treasurer of Amherst College from 1835 to 1873, served in the Massachusetts House of Representatives (1838–1839; 1873) and the Massachusetts Senate (1842–1843), and represented Massachusetts's 10th congressional district in the 33rd U.S. Congress (1853–1855).[17] On May 6, 1828, he married Emily Norcross from Monson, Massachusetts. They had three children:

William Austin (1829–1895), known as Austin, Aust or Awe

Emily Elizabeth

Lavinia Norcross (1833–1899), known as Lavinia or Vinnie[18]

She was also a distant cousin to Baxter Dickinson and his family, including his grandson the organist and composer Clarence Dickinson.[19]

By all accounts, young Dickinson was a well-behaved girl. On an extended visit to Monson when she was two, Dickinson's Aunt Lavinia described her as "perfectly well and contented—She is a very good child and but little trouble."[20] Dickinson's aunt also noted the girl's affinity for music and her particular talent for the piano, which she called "the moosic".[21]

Dickinson attended primary school in a two-story building on Pleasant Street.[22] Her education was "ambitiously classical for a Victorian girl".[23] Wanting his children well-educated, her father followed their progress even while away on business. When Dickinson was seven, he wrote home, reminding his children to "keep school, and learn, so as to tell me, when I come home, how many new things you have learned".[24] While Dickinson consistently described her father in a warm manner, her correspondence suggests that her mother was regularly cold and aloof. In a letter to a confidante, Dickinson wrote she "always ran Home to Awe [Austin] when a child, if anything befell me. She was an awful Mother, but I liked her better than none."[25]

On September 7, 1840, Dickinson and her sister Lavinia started together at Amherst Academy, a former boys' school that had opened to female students just two years earlier.[22] At about the same time, her father purchased a house on North Pleasant Street.[26] Dickinson's brother Austin later described this large new home as the "mansion" over which he and Dickinson presided as "lord and lady" while their parents were absent.[27] The house overlooked Amherst's burial ground, described by one local minister as treeless and "forbidding".[26]

Teenage years

They shut me up in Prose –

As when a little Girl

They put me in the Closet –

Because they liked me "still" –

Still! Could themself have peeped –

And seen my Brain – go round –

They might as wise have lodged a Bird

For Treason – in the Pound –

Emily Dickinson, c. 1862[28]

Dickinson spent seven years at the academy, taking classes in English and classical literature, Latin, botany, geology, history, "mental philosophy," and arithmetic.[29] Daniel Taggart Fiske, the school's principal at the time, would later recall that Dickinson was "very bright" and "an excellent scholar, of exemplary deportment, faithful in all school duties".[30] Although she had a few terms off due to illness—the longest of which was in 1845–1846, when she was enrolled for only eleven weeks[31]—she enjoyed her strenuous studies, writing to a friend that the academy was "a very fine school".[32]

Dickinson was troubled from a young age by the "deepening menace" of death, especially the deaths of those who were close to her. When Sophia Holland, her second cousin and a close friend, grew ill from typhus and died in April 1844, Dickinson was traumatized.[33] Recalling the incident two years later, she wrote that "it seemed to me I should die too if I could not be permitted to watch over her or even look at her face."[34] She became so melancholic that her parents sent her to stay with family in Boston to recover.[32] With her health and spirits restored, she soon returned to Amherst Academy to continue her studies.[35] During this period, she met people who were to become lifelong friends and correspondents, such as Abiah Root, Abby Wood, Jane Humphrey, and Susan Huntington Gilbert (who later married Dickinson's brother Austin).

In 1845, a religious revival took place in Amherst, resulting in 46 confessions of faith among Dickinson's peers.[36] Dickinson wrote to a friend the following year: "I never enjoyed such perfect peace and happiness as the short time in which I felt I had found my Savior."[37] She went on to say it was her "greatest pleasure to commune alone with the great God & to feel that he would listen to my prayers."[37] The experience did not last: Dickinson never made a formal declaration of faith and attended services regularly for only a few years.[38] After her church-going ended, about 1852, she wrote a poem opening: "Some keep the Sabbath going to Church – I keep it, staying at Home".[39]

During the last year of her stay at the academy, Dickinson became friendly with Leonard Humphrey, its popular new young principal. After finishing her final term at the Academy on August 10, 1847, Dickinson began attending Mary Lyon's Mount Holyoke Female Seminary (which later became Mount Holyoke College) in South Hadley, about ten miles (16 km) from Amherst.[40] She stayed at the seminary for only ten months. Although she liked the girls at Holyoke, Dickinson made no lasting friendships there.[41] The explanations for her brief stay at Holyoke differ considerably: either she was in poor health, her father wanted to have her at home, she rebelled against the evangelical fervor present at the school, she disliked the discipline-minded teachers, or she was simply homesick.[42] Whatever the reasons for leaving Holyoke, her brother Austin appeared on March 25, 1848, to "bring [her] home at all events".[43] Back in Amherst, Dickinson occupied her time with household activities.[44] She took up baking for the family and enjoyed attending local events and activities in the budding college town.[45]

Early influences and writing

When she was eighteen, Dickinson's family befriended a young attorney by the name of Benjamin Franklin Newton. According to a letter written by Dickinson after Newton's death, he had been "with my Father two years, before going to Worcester – in pursuing his studies, and was much in our family".[46] Although their relationship was probably not romantic, Newton was a formative influence and would become the second in a series of older men (after Humphrey) that Dickinson referred to, variously, as her tutor, preceptor, or master.[47]

Newton likely introduced her to the writings of William Wordsworth, and his gift to her of Ralph Waldo Emerson's first book of collected poems had a liberating effect. She wrote later that he, "whose name my Father's Law Student taught me, has touched the secret Spring".[48] Newton held her in high regard, believing in and recognizing her as a poet. When he was dying of tuberculosis, he wrote to her, saying he would like to live until she achieved the greatness he foresaw.[48] Biographers believe that Dickinson's statement of 1862—"When a little Girl, I had a friend, who taught me Immortality – but venturing too near, himself – he never returned"—refers to Newton.[49]

Dickinson was familiar with not only the Bible but also contemporary popular literature.[50] She was probably influenced by Lydia Maria Child's Letters from New York, another gift from Newton[33] (after reading it, she gushed "This then is a book! And there are more of them!"[33]). Her brother smuggled a copy of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Kavanagh into the house for her (because her father might disapprove)[51] and a friend lent her Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre in late 1849.[52] Jane Eyre's influence cannot be measured, but when Dickinson acquired her first and only dog, a Newfoundland, she named him "Carlo" after the character St. John Rivers' dog.[52] William Shakespeare was also a potent influence in her life. Referring to his plays, she wrote to one friend, "Why clasp any hand but this?" and to another, "Why is any other book needed?"[53]

Adulthood and seclusion

In early 1850, Dickinson wrote that "Amherst is alive with fun this winter ... Oh, a very great town this is!"[44] Her high spirits soon turned to melancholy after another death. The Amherst Academy principal, Leonard Humphrey, died suddenly of "brain congestion" at age 25.[54] Two years after his death, she revealed to her friend Abiah Root the extent of her sadness:

... some of my friends are gone, and some of my friends are sleeping – sleeping the churchyard sleep – the hour of evening is sad – it was once my study hour – my master has gone to rest, and the open leaf of the book, and the scholar at school alone, make the tears come, and I cannot brush them away; I would not if I could, for they are the only tribute I can pay the departed Humphrey.[55]

By Daderot. - Self-photographed, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1005313 -The Evergreens, built by Edward Dickinson, was the home of Austin and Susan's family.

During the 1850s, Dickinson's strongest and most affectionate relationship was with her sister-in-law, Susan Gilbert. Dickinson eventually sent her over three hundred letters, more than to any other correspondent, over the course of their relationship. Susan was supportive of the poet, playing the role of "most beloved friend, influence, muse, and adviser" whose editorial suggestions Dickinson sometimes followed.[56] In an 1882 letter to Susan, Dickinson said, "With the exception of Shakespeare, you have told me of more knowledge than any one living."[57]

The importance of Dickinson's relationship with Susan has widely been overlooked due to a point of view first promoted by Mabel Loomis Todd, who was involved for many years in a relationship with Austin Dickinson and who diminished Susan's role in Dickinson's life due to her own poor relationship with her lover's wife.[58] However, the notion of a "cruel" Susan—as promoted by her romantic rival—has been questioned, most especially by Susan and Austin's surviving children, with whom Dickinson was close.[59] Many scholars interpret the relationship between Emily and Susan as a romantic one. In The Emily Dickinson Journal Lena Koski wrote, "Dickinson's letters to Gilbert express strong homoerotic feelings."[10] She quotes from many of their letters, including one from 1852 in which Dickinson proclaims,

Susie, will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me ... I hope for you so much, and feel so eager for you, feel that I cannot wait, feel that now I must have you—that the expectation once more to see your face again, makes me feel hot and feverish, and my heart beats so fast ... my darling, so near I seem to you, that I disdain this pen, and wait for a warmer language.

The relationship between Emily and Susan is portrayed in the film Wild Nights with Emily and explored in the TV series Dickinson.

Sue married Austin in 1856 after a four-year courtship, though their marriage was not a happy one. Edward Dickinson built a house for Austin and Sue naming it the Evergreens, a stand of which was located on the west side of the Homestead.[60]

Until 1855, Dickinson had not strayed far from Amherst. That spring, accompanied by her mother and sister, she took one of her longest and farthest trips away from home.[61] First, they spent three weeks in Washington, where her father was representing Massachusetts in Congress. Then they went to Philadelphia for two weeks to visit family. In Philadelphia, she met Charles Wadsworth, a famous minister of the Arch Street Presbyterian Church, with whom she forged a strong friendship which lasted until his death in 1882.[62] Despite seeing him only twice after 1855 (he moved to San Francisco in 1862), she variously referred to him as "my Philadelphia", "my Clergyman", "my dearest earthly friend" and "my Shepherd from 'Little Girl'hood".[63]

By Author Unknown, edited by User:ZX95 - http://mit.zenfs.com/1103/2012/09/Limmagine-inedita-di-Emily-Dickinson-AP.jpg , Dickinson and Turner 1859.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22460221

In September 2012, the Amherst College Archives and Special Collections unveiled this daguerreotype, proposing it to be Dickinson (left) and her friend Kate Scott Turner (c. 1859); it has not been authenticated.[64]

From the mid-1850s, Dickinson's mother became effectively bedridden with various chronic illnesses until her death in 1882.[65] Writing to a friend in summer 1858, Dickinson said she would visit if she could leave "home, or mother. I do not go out at all, lest father will come and miss me, or miss some little act, which I might forget, should I run away – Mother is much as usual. I Know not what to hope of her".[66] As her mother continued to decline, Dickinson's domestic responsibilities weighed more heavily upon her and she confined herself within the Homestead. Forty years later, Lavinia said that because their mother was chronically ill, one of the daughters had to remain always with her.[66] Dickinson took this role as her own, and "finding the life with her books and nature so congenial, continued to live it".[66]

Withdrawing more and more from the outside world, Dickinson began in the summer of 1858 what would be her lasting legacy. Reviewing poems she had written previously, she began making clean copies of her work, assembling carefully pieced-together manuscript books.[67] The forty fascicles she created from 1858 through 1865 eventually held nearly eight hundred poems.[67] No one was aware of the existence of these books until after her death.

In the late 1850s, the Dickinsons befriended Samuel Bowles, the owner and editor-in-chief of the Springfield Republican, and his wife, Mary.[68] They visited the Dickinsons regularly for years to come. During this time Dickinson sent him over three dozen letters and nearly fifty poems.[69] Their friendship brought out some of her most intense writing and Bowles published a few of her poems in his journal.[70] It was from 1858 to 1861 that Dickinson is believed to have written a trio of letters that have been called "The Master Letters". These three letters, drafted to an unknown man simply referred to as "Master", continue to be the subject of speculation and contention amongst scholars.[71]

The first half of the 1860s, after she had largely withdrawn from social life,[72] proved to be Dickinson's most productive writing period.[73] Modern scholars and researchers are divided as to the cause for Dickinson's withdrawal and extreme seclusion. While she was diagnosed as having "nervous prostration" by a physician during her lifetime,[74] some today believe she may have suffered from illnesses as various as agoraphobia[75] and epilepsy.[76]

Is "my Verse ... alive?"

In April 1862, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, a literary critic, radical abolitionist, and ex-minister, wrote a lead piece for The Atlantic Monthly titled, "Letter to a Young Contributor". Higginson's essay, in which he urged aspiring writers to "charge your style with life", contained practical advice for those wishing to break into print.[77] Dickinson's decision to contact Higginson suggests that by 1862 she was contemplating publication and that it may have become increasingly difficult to write poetry without an audience.[78] Seeking literary guidance that no one close to her could provide, Dickinson sent him a letter, which read in full:[79]

Thomas Wentworth Higginson in uniform; he was colonel of the First South Carolina Volunteers from 1862 to 1864.

Mr Higginson,

Are you too deeply occupied to say if my Verse is alive?

The Mind is so near itself – it cannot see, distinctly – and I have none to ask –

Should you think it breathed – and had you the leisure to tell me, I should feel quick gratitude –

If I make the mistake – that you dared to tell me – would give me sincerer honor – toward you –

I enclose my name – asking you, if you please – Sir – to tell me what is true?

That you will not betray me – it is needless to ask – since Honor is it's own pawn –

This highly nuanced and largely theatrical letter was unsigned, but she had included her name on a card and enclosed it in an envelope, along with four of her poems.[80] He praised her work but suggested that she delay publishing until she had written longer, being unaware she had already appeared in print. She assured him that publishing was as foreign to her "as Firmament to Fin", but also proposed that "If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her".[81] Dickinson delighted in dramatic self-characterization and mystery in her letters to Higginson.[82] She said of herself, "I am small, like the wren, and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur, and my eyes like the sherry in the glass that the guest leaves."[83] She stressed her solitary nature, saying her only real companions were the hills, the sundown, and her dog, Carlo. She also mentioned that whereas her mother did not "care for Thought", her father bought her books, but begged her "not to read them – because he fears they joggle the Mind".[84]

Dickinson valued his advice, going from calling him "Mr. Higginson" to "Dear friend" as well as signing her letters, "Your Gnome" and "Your Scholar".[85] His interest in her work certainly provided great moral support; many years later, Dickinson told Higginson that he had saved her life in 1862.[86] They corresponded until her death, but her difficulty in expressing her literary needs and a reluctance to enter into a cooperative exchange left Higginson nonplussed; he did not press her to publish in subsequent correspondence.[87] Dickinson's own ambivalence on the matter militated against the likelihood of publication.[88] Literary critic Edmund Wilson, in his review of Civil War literature, surmised that "with encouragement, she would certainly have published".[89]

The woman in white

In direct opposition to the immense productivity that she displayed in the early 1860s, Dickinson wrote fewer poems in 1866.[90] Beset with personal loss as well as loss of domestic help, Dickinson may have been too overcome to keep up her previous level of writing.[91] Carlo died during this time after having provided sixteen years of companionship; Dickinson never owned another dog. Although the household servant of nine years, Margaret O'Brien, had married and left the Homestead that same year, it was not until 1869 that the Dickinsons brought in a permanent household servant, Margaret Maher, to replace their former maid-of-all-work.[92] Emily once again was responsible for the kitchen, including cooking and cleaning up, as well as the baking at which she excelled.[93]

A solemn thing – it was – I said –

A Woman – White – to be –

And wear – if God should count me fit –

Her blameless mystery –

Emily Dickinson, c. 1861[94]

Around this time, Dickinson's behavior began to change. She did not leave the Homestead unless it was absolutely necessary, and as early as 1867, she began to talk to visitors from the other side of a door rather than speaking to them face to face.[95] She acquired local notoriety; she was rarely seen, and when she was, she was usually clothed in white. Dickinson's one surviving article of clothing is a white cotton dress, possibly sewn circa 1878–1882.[96] Few of the locals who exchanged messages with Dickinson during her last fifteen years ever saw her in person.[97] Austin and his family began to protect Dickinson's privacy, deciding that she was not to be a subject of discussion with outsiders.[98]

Despite her physical seclusion, Dickinson was socially active and expressive through what makes up two-thirds of her surviving notes and letters. When visitors came to either the Homestead or the Evergreens, she would often leave or send over small gifts of poems or flowers.[99] Dickinson also had a good rapport with the children in her life. Mattie Dickinson, the second child of Austin and Sue, later said that "Aunt Emily stood for indulgence."[100] MacGregor (Mac) Jenkins, the son of family friends who later wrote a short article in 1891 called "A Child's Recollection of Emily Dickinson", thought of her as always offering support[clarification needed] to the neighborhood children.[100]

When Higginson urged her to come to Boston in 1868 so they could formally meet for the first time, she declined, writing: "Could it please your convenience to come so far as Amherst I should be very glad, but I do not cross my Father's ground to any House or town".[101] It was not until he came to Amherst in 1870 that they met. Later he referred to her, in the most detailed and vivid physical account of her on record, as "a little plain woman with two smooth bands of reddish hair ... in a very plain & exquisitely clean white piqué & a blue net worsted shawl."[102] He also felt that he never was "with any one who drained my nerve power so much. Without touching her, she drew from me. I am glad not to live near her."[103]

Posies and poesies

Scholar Judith Farr notes that Dickinson, during her lifetime, "was known more widely as a gardener, perhaps, than as a poet".[104] Dickinson studied botany from the age of nine and, along with her sister, tended the garden at Homestead.[104] During her lifetime, she assembled a collection of pressed plants in a sixty-six-page leather-bound herbarium. It contained 424 pressed flower specimens that she collected, classified, and labeled using the Linnaean system.[105] The Homestead garden was well known and admired locally in its time. It has not survived, but efforts to revive it have begun.[106] Dickinson kept no garden notebooks or plant lists, but a clear impression can be formed from the letters and recollections of friends and family. Her niece, Martha Dickinson Bianchi, remembered "carpets of lily-of-the-valley and pansies, platoons of sweetpeas, hyacinths, enough in May to give all the bees of summer dyspepsia. There were ribbons of peony hedges and drifts of daffodils in season, marigolds to distraction—a butterfly utopia".[107] In particular, Dickinson cultivated scented exotic flowers, writing that she "could inhabit the Spice Isles merely by crossing the dining room to the conservatory, where the plants hang in baskets". Dickinson would often send her friends bunches of flowers with verses attached, but "they valued the posy more than the poetry".[107]

Later life

On June 16, 1874, while in Boston, Edward Dickinson suffered a stroke and died. When the simple funeral was held in the Homestead's entrance hall, Dickinson stayed in her room with the door cracked open. Neither did she attend the memorial service on June 28.[108] She wrote to Higginson that her father's "Heart was pure and terrible and I think no other like it exists."[109] A year later, on June 15, 1875, Dickinson's mother also suffered a stroke, which produced a partial lateral paralysis and impaired memory. Lamenting her mother's increasing physical as well as mental demands, Dickinson wrote that "Home is so far from Home".[110]

Though the great Waters sleep,

That they are still the Deep,

We cannot doubt –

No vacillating God

Ignited this Abode

To put it out –

Emily Dickinson, c. 1884[111]

Otis Phillips Lord, an elderly judge on the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court from Salem, in 1872 or 1873 became an acquaintance of Dickinson's. After the death of Lord's wife in 1877, his friendship with Dickinson probably became a late-life romance, though as their letters were destroyed, this is surmised.[112] Dickinson found a kindred soul in Lord, especially in terms of shared literary interests; the few letters which survived contain multiple quotations of Shakespeare's work, including the plays Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, Hamlet and King Lear. In 1880 he gave her Cowden Clarke's Complete Concordance to Shakespeare (1877).[113] Dickinson wrote that "While others go to Church, I go to mine, for are you not my Church, and have we not a Hymn that no one knows but us?"[114] She referred to him as "My lovely Salem"[115] and they wrote to each other religiously every Sunday. Dickinson looked forward to this day greatly; a surviving fragment of a letter written by her states that "Tuesday is a deeply depressed Day".[116]

After being critically ill for several years, Judge Lord died in March 1884. Dickinson referred to him as "our latest Lost".[117] Two years before this, on April 1, 1882, Dickinson's "Shepherd from 'Little Girl'hood", Charles Wadsworth, also had died after a long illness.

Decline and death

Although she continued to write in her last years, Dickinson stopped editing and organizing her poems. She also exacted a promise from her sister Lavinia to burn her papers.[118] Lavinia, who never married, remained at the Homestead until her own death in 1899.

By Midnightdreary - Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4584249

Emily Dickinson's tombstone in the family plot

The 1880s were a difficult time for the remaining Dickinsons. Irreconcilably alienated from his wife, Austin fell in love in 1882 with Mabel Loomis Todd, an Amherst College faculty wife who had recently moved to the area. Todd never met Dickinson but was intrigued by her, referring to her as "a lady whom the people call the Myth".[119] Austin distanced himself from his family as his affair continued and his wife became sick with grief.[120] Dickinson's mother died on November 14, 1882. Five weeks later, Dickinson wrote, "We were never intimate ... while she was our Mother – but Mines in the same Ground meet by tunneling and when she became our Child, the Affection came."[121] The next year, Austin and Sue's third and youngest child, Gilbert—Emily's favorite—died of typhoid fever.[122]

As death succeeded death, Dickinson found her world upended. In the fall of 1884, she wrote, "The Dyings have been too deep for me, and before I could raise my Heart from one, another has come."[123] That summer she had seen "a great darkness coming" and fainted while baking in the kitchen. She remained unconscious late into the night and weeks of ill health followed. On November 30, 1885, her feebleness and other symptoms were so worrying that Austin canceled a trip to Boston.[124] She was confined to her bed for a few months, but managed to send a final burst of letters in the spring. What is thought to be her last letter was sent to her cousins, Louise and Frances Norcross, and simply read: "Little Cousins, Called Back. Emily".[125] On May 15, 1886, after several days of worsening symptoms, Emily Dickinson died at the age of 55. Austin wrote in his diary that "the day was awful ... she ceased to breathe that terrible breathing just before the [afternoon] whistle sounded for six."[126] Dickinson's chief physician gave the cause of death as Bright's disease and its duration as two and a half years.[127]

Lavinia and Austin asked Susan to wash Dickinson's body upon her death. Susan also wrote Dickinson's obituary for the Springfield Republican, ending it with four lines from one of Dickinson's poems: "Morns like these, we parted; Noons like these, she rose; Fluttering first, then firmer, To her fair repose." Lavinia was perfectly satisfied that Sue should arrange everything, knowing it would be done lovingly.[128] Dickinson was buried, laid in a white coffin with vanilla-scented heliotrope, a lady's slipper orchid, and a "knot of blue field violets" placed about it.[107][129] The funeral service, held in the Homestead's library, was simple and short; Higginson, who had met her only twice, read "No Coward Soul Is Mine", a poem by Emily Brontë that had been a favorite of Dickinson's.[126] At Dickinson's request, her "coffin [was] not driven but carried through fields of buttercups" for burial in the family plot at West Cemetery on Triangle Street.[104]

Publication

Despite Dickinson's prolific writing, only ten poems and a letter were published during her lifetime. After her younger sister Lavinia discovered the collection of nearly 1800 poems, Dickinson's first volume was published four years after her death. Until Thomas H. Johnson published Dickinson's Complete Poems in 1955,[130] Dickinson's poems were considerably edited and altered from their manuscript versions. Since 1890 Dickinson has remained continuously in print.

Contemporary

"Safe in their Alabaster Chambers –," titled "The Sleeping," as it was published in the Springfield Republican in 1862.

A few of Dickinson's poems appeared in Samuel Bowles' Springfield Republican between 1858 and 1868. They were published anonymously and heavily edited, with conventionalized punctuation and formal titles.[131] The first poem, "Nobody knows this little rose", may have been published without Dickinson's permission.[132] The Republican also published "A Narrow Fellow in the Grass" as "The Snake", "Safe in their Alabaster Chambers –" as "The Sleeping", and "Blazing in the Gold and quenching in Purple" as "Sunset".[133][134] The poem "I taste a liquor never brewed –" is an example of the edited versions; the last two lines in the first stanza were completely rewritten.[133]

Original wording

I taste a liquor never brewed –

From Tankards scooped in Pearl –

Not all the Frankfort Berries

Yield such an Alcohol!

Republican version

I taste a liquor never brewed –

From Tankards scooped in Pearl –

Not Frankfort Berries yield the sense

Such a delirious whirl!

In 1864, several poems were altered and published in Drum Beat, to raise funds for medical care for Union soldiers in the war.[135] Another appeared in April 1864 in the Brooklyn Daily Union.[136]

In the 1870s, Higginson showed Dickinson's poems to Helen Hunt Jackson, who had coincidentally been at the academy with Dickinson when they were girls.[137] Jackson was deeply involved in the publishing world, and managed to convince Dickinson to publish her poem "Success is counted sweetest" anonymously in a volume called A Masque of Poets.[137] The poem, however, was altered to agree with contemporary taste. It was the last poem published during Dickinson's lifetime.

Posthumous

After Dickinson's death, Lavinia Dickinson kept her promise and burned most of the poet's correspondence. Significantly though, Dickinson had left no instructions about the 40 notebooks and loose sheets gathered in a locked chest.[138] Lavinia recognized the poems' worth and became obsessed with seeing them published.[139] She turned first to her brother's wife and then to Mabel Loomis Todd, his lover, for assistance.[129] A feud ensued, with the manuscripts divided between the Todd and Dickinson houses, preventing complete publication of Dickinson's poetry for more than half a century.[140]

By Emily Dickinson - archive.org, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5150778 -Cover of the first edition of Poems, published in 1890

The first volume of Dickinson's Poems, edited jointly by Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson, appeared in November 1890.[141] Although Todd claimed that only essential changes were made, the poems were extensively edited to match punctuation and capitalization to late 19th-century standards, with occasional rewordings to reduce Dickinson's obliquity.[142] The first 115-poem volume was a critical and financial success, going through eleven printings in two years.[141] Poems: Second Series followed in 1891, running to five editions by 1893; a third series appeared in 1896. One reviewer, in 1892, wrote: "The world will not rest satisfied till every scrap of her writings, letters as well as literature, has been published".[143]

Nearly a dozen new editions of Dickinson's poetry, whether containing previously unpublished or newly edited poems, were published between 1914 and 1945.[144] Martha Dickinson Bianchi, the daughter of Susan and Austin Dickinson, published collections of her aunt's poetry based on the manuscripts held by her family, whereas Mabel Loomis Todd's daughter, Millicent Todd Bingham, published collections based on the manuscripts held by her mother. These competing editions of Dickinson's poetry, often differing in order and structure, ensured that the poet's work was in the public's eye.[145]

The first scholarly publication came in 1955 with a complete new three-volume set edited by Thomas H. Johnson. Forming the basis of later Dickinson scholarship, Johnson's variorum brought all of Dickinson's known poems together for the first time.[146] Johnson's goal was to present the poems very nearly as Dickinson had left them in her manuscripts.[147] They were untitled, only numbered in an approximate chronological sequence, strewn with dashes and irregularly capitalized, and often extremely elliptical in their language.[148] Three years later, Johnson edited and published, along with Theodora Ward, a complete collection of Dickinson's letters, also presented in three volumes.

In 1981, The Manuscript Books of Emily Dickinson was published. Using the physical evidence of the original papers, the poems were intended to be published in their original order for the first time. Editor Ralph W. Franklin relied on smudge marks, needle punctures and other clues to reassemble the poet's packets.[147] Since then, many critics have argued for thematic unity in these small collections, believing the ordering of the poems to be more than chronological or convenient.

Dickinson biographer Alfred Habegger wrote in My Wars Are Laid Away in Books: The Life of Emily Dickinson (2001) that "The consequences of the poet's failure to disseminate her work in a faithful and orderly manner are still very much with us".[149]

Poetry

Main article: List of Emily Dickinson poems

Dickinson's poems generally fall into three distinct periods, the works in each period having certain general characters in common.

Pre-1861: In the period before 1858, the poems are most often conventional and sentimental in nature.[150] Thomas H. Johnson, who later published The Poems of Emily Dickinson, was able to date only five of Dickinson's poems as written before 1858.[151] Two of these are mock valentines done in an ornate and humorous style, two others are conventional lyrics, one of which is about missing her brother Austin, and the fifth poem, which begins "I have a Bird in spring", conveys her grief over the feared loss of friendship and was sent to her friend Sue Gilbert.[151] In 1858, Dickinson began to collect her poems in the small hand-sewn books she called fascicles.

1861–1865: This was her most creative period, and these poems represent her most vigorous and creative work. Her poetic production also increased dramatically during this period. Johnson estimated that she composed 35 poems in 1860, 86 poems in 1861, 366 in 1862, 141 in 1863, and 174 in 1864. It was during this period that Dickinson fully developed her themes concerning nature, life, and mortality.[152]

Post-1866: Only a third of Dickinson's poems were written in the last twenty years of her life, when her poetic production slowed considerably. During this period, she no longer collected her poems in fascicles.[152]

Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=976862

Dickinson's handwritten manuscript of her poem "Wild Nights – Wild Nights!"

The extensive use of dashes and unconventional capitalization in Dickinson's manuscripts, and the idiosyncratic vocabulary and imagery, combine to create a body of work that is "far more various in its styles and forms than is commonly supposed".[5][153] Dickinson avoids pentameter, opting more generally for trimeter, tetrameter and, less often, dimeter. Sometimes her use of these meters is regular, but oftentimes it is irregular. The regular form that she most often employs is the ballad stanza, a traditional form that is divided into quatrains, using tetrameter for the first and third lines and trimeter for the second and fourth, while rhyming the second and fourth lines (ABCB). Though Dickinson often uses perfect rhymes for lines two and four, she also makes frequent use of slant rhyme.[154] In some of her poems, she varies the meter from the traditional ballad stanza by using trimeter for lines one, two and four; while using tetrameter for only line three.

Since many of her poems were written in traditional ballad stanzas with ABCB rhyme schemes, some of these poems can be sung to fit the melodies of popular folk songs and hymns that also use the common meter, employing alternating lines of iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter.[155]

Dickinson scholar and poet Anthony Hecht finds resonances in Dickinson's poetry not only with hymns and song-forms but also with psalms and riddles, citing the following example: "Who is the East? / The Yellow Man / Who may be Purple if he can / That carries in the Sun. / Who is the West? / The Purple Man / Who may be Yellow if He can / That lets Him out again."[153]

Late 20th-century scholars are "deeply interested" by Dickinson's highly individual use of punctuation and lineation (line lengths and line breaks).[138] Following the publication of one of the few poems that appeared in her lifetime—"A Narrow Fellow in the Grass", published as "The Snake" in the Republican—Dickinson complained that the edited punctuation (an added comma and a full stop substitution for the original dash) altered the meaning of the entire poem.[133]

Original wording

A narrow Fellow in the Grass

Occasionally rides –

You may have met Him – did you not

His notice sudden is –

Republican version[133]

A narrow Fellow in the Grass

Occasionally rides –

You may have met Him – did you not,

His notice sudden is.

As Farr points out, "snakes instantly notice you"; Dickinson's version captures the "breathless immediacy" of the encounter; and The Republican's punctuation renders "her lines more commonplace".[138] With the increasingly close focus on Dickinson's structures and syntax has come a growing appreciation that they are "aesthetically based".[138] Although Johnson's landmark 1955 edition of poems was relatively unaltered from the original, later scholars critiqued it for deviating from the style and layout of Dickinson's manuscripts. Meaningful distinctions, these scholars assert, can be drawn from varying lengths and angles of dash, and differing arrangements of text on the page.[156] Several volumes have attempted to render Dickinson's handwritten dashes using many typographic symbols of varying length and angle. R. W. Franklin's 1998 variorum edition of the poems provided alternate wordings to those chosen by Johnson, in a more limited editorial intervention. Franklin also used typeset dashes of varying length to approximate the manuscripts' dashes more closely.[147]

Major themes

Dickinson left no formal statement of her aesthetic intentions and, because of the variety of her themes, her work does not fit conveniently into any one genre. She has been regarded, alongside Emerson (whose poems Dickinson admired), as a Transcendentalist.[157] However, Farr disagrees with this analysis, saying that Dickinson's "relentlessly measuring mind ... deflates the airy elevation of the Transcendental".[158] Apart from the major themes discussed below, Dickinson's poetry frequently uses humor, puns, irony and satire.[159]

Flowers and gardens: Farr notes that Dickinson's "poems and letters almost wholly concern flowers" and that allusions to gardens often refer to an "imaginative realm ... wherein flowers [are] often emblems for actions and emotions".[160] She associates some flowers, like gentians and anemones, with youth and humility; others with prudence and insight.[160] Her poems were often sent to friends with accompanying letters and nosegays.[160] Farr notes that one of Dickinson's earlier poems, written about 1859, appears to "conflate her poetry itself with the posies": "My nosegays are for Captives – / Dim – long expectant eyes – / Fingers denied the plucking, / Patient till Paradise – / To such, if they sh'd whisper / Of morning and the moor – / They bear no other errand, / And I, no other prayer".[160]

The Master poems: Dickinson left a large number of poems addressed to "Signor", "Sir" and "Master", who is characterized as Dickinson's "lover for all eternity".[161] These confessional poems are often "searing in their self-inquiry" and "harrowing to the reader" and typically take their metaphors from texts and paintings of Dickinson's day.[161] The Dickinson family themselves believed these poems were addressed to actual individuals but this view is frequently rejected by scholars. Farr, for example, contends that the Master is an unattainable composite figure, "human, with specific characteristics, but godlike" and speculates that Master may be a "kind of Christian muse".[161]

Morbidity: Dickinson's poems reflect her "early and lifelong fascination" with illness, dying and death.[162] Perhaps surprisingly for a New England spinster, her poems allude to death by many methods: "crucifixion, drowning, hanging, suffocation, freezing, premature burial, shooting, stabbing and guillotinage".[162] She reserved her sharpest insights into the "death blow aimed by God" and the "funeral in the brain", often reinforced by images of thirst and starvation. Dickinson scholar Vivian R. Pollak [Wikidata] considers these references an autobiographical reflection of Dickinson's "thirsting-starving persona", an outward expression of her needy self-image as small, thin and frail.[162] Dickinson's most psychologically complex poems explore the theme that the loss of hunger for life causes the death of self and place this at "the interface of murder and suicide".[162] Death and morbidity in Dickinson's poetry is also heavily connected to winter themes. Critic Edwin Folsom analyzes how "winter for Dickinson is the season that forces reality, that strips all hope of transcendence. It is a season of death and a metaphor for death".[163]

Gospel poems: Throughout her life, Dickinson wrote poems reflecting a preoccupation with the teachings of Jesus Christ and, indeed, many are addressed to him.[164] She stresses the Gospels' contemporary pertinence and recreates them, often with "wit and American colloquial language".[164] Scholar Dorothy Oberhaus finds that the "salient feature uniting Christian poets ... is their reverential attention to the life of Jesus Christ" and contends that Dickinson's deep structures place her in the "poetic tradition of Christian devotion" alongside Hopkins, Eliot and Auden.[164] In a Nativity poem, Dickinson combines lightness and wit to revisit an ancient theme: "The Savior must have been / A docile Gentleman – / To come so far so cold a Day / For little Fellowmen / The Road to Bethlehem / Since He and I were Boys / Was leveled, but for that twould be / A rugged billion Miles –".[164]

The Undiscovered Continent: Academic Suzanne Juhasz [Wikidata] considers that Dickinson saw the mind and spirit as tangible visitable places and that for much of her life she lived within them.[165] Often, this intensely private place is referred to as the "undiscovered continent" and the "landscape of the spirit" and embellished with nature imagery. At other times, the imagery is darker and forbidding—castles or prisons, complete with corridors and rooms—to create a dwelling place of "oneself" where one resides with one's other selves.[165] An example that brings together many of these ideas is: "Me from Myself – to banish – / Had I Art – / Impregnable my Fortress / Unto All Heart – / But since myself—assault Me – / How have I peace / Except by subjugating / Consciousness. / And since We're mutual Monarch / How this be / Except by Abdication – / Me – of Me?".[165]

Reception

Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=916845

A Route of Evanescence

WIth a revolving Wheel-

A Resonance of Emerald -

A Rush of Cochineal-

And every Blossom on the Bush

Adjusts Its tumbled Head-

The mail from Tunis, probably,

An easy Morning's Ride.

Dickinson wrote and sent this poem ("A Route of Evanescence") to Thomas Higginson in 1880.

The surge of posthumous publication gave Dickinson's poetry its first public exposure. Backed by Higginson and with a favorable notice from William Dean Howells, an editor of Harper's Magazine, the poetry received mixed reviews after it was first published in 1890. Higginson himself stated in his preface to the first edition of Dickinson's published work that the poetry's quality "is that of extraordinary grasp and insight",[166] albeit "without the proper control and chastening" that the experience of publishing during her lifetime might have conferred.[167] His judgment that her opus was "incomplete and unsatisfactory" would be echoed in the essays of the New Critics in the 1930s.

Maurice Thompson, who was literary editor of The Independent for twelve years, noted in 1891 that her poetry had "a strange mixture of rare individuality and originality".[168] Some critics hailed Dickinson's effort, but disapproved of her unusual non-traditional style. Andrew Lang, a British writer, dismissed Dickinson's work, stating that "if poetry is to exist at all, it really must have form and grammar, and must rhyme when it professes to rhyme. The wisdom of the ages and the nature of man insist on so much".[169] Thomas Bailey Aldrich, a poet and novelist, equally dismissed Dickinson's poetic technique in The Atlantic Monthly in January 1892: "It is plain that Miss Dickinson possessed an extremely unconventional and grotesque fancy. She was deeply tinged by the mysticism of Blake, and strongly influenced by the mannerism of Emerson ... But the incoherence and formlessness of her—versicles are fatal ... an eccentric, dreamy, half-educated recluse in an out-of-the-way New England village (or anywhere else) cannot with impunity set at defiance the laws of gravitation and grammar".[170]

Critical attention to Dickinson's poetry was meager from 1897 to the early 1920s.[171] By the start of the 20th century, interest in her poetry became broader in scope and some critics began to consider Dickinson as essentially modern. Rather than seeing Dickinson's poetic styling as a result of lack of knowledge or skill, modern critics believed the irregularities were consciously artistic.[172] In a 1915 essay, Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant called the poet's inspiration "daring" and named her "one of the rarest flowers the sterner New England land ever bore".[173] With the growing popularity of modernist poetry in the 1920s, Dickinson's failure to conform to 19th-century poetic form was no longer surprising nor distasteful to new generations of readers. Dickinson was suddenly referred to by various critics as a great woman poet, and a cult following began to form.[174]

In the 1930s, a number of the New Critics—among them R. P. Blackmur, Allen Tate, Cleanth Brooks and Yvor Winters—appraised the significance of Dickinson's poetry. As critic Roland Hagenbüchle pointed out, their "affirmative and prohibitive tenets turned out to be of special relevance to Dickinson scholarship".[175] Blackmur, in an attempt to focus and clarify the major claims for and against the poet's greatness, wrote in a landmark 1937 critical essay: "... she was a private poet who wrote as indefatigably as some women cook or knit. Her gift for words and the cultural predicament of her time drove her to poetry instead of antimacassars ... She came ... at the right time for one kind of poetry: the poetry of sophisticated, eccentric vision."[176]

The second wave of feminism created greater cultural sympathy for her as a female poet. In the first collection of critical essays on Dickinson from a feminist perspective, she is heralded as the greatest woman poet in the English language.[177] Biographers and theorists of the past tended to separate Dickinson's roles as a woman and a poet. For example, George Whicher wrote in his 1952 book This Was a Poet: A Critical Biography of Emily Dickinson, "Perhaps as a poet [Dickinson] could find the fulfillment she had missed as a woman." Feminist criticism, on the other hand, declares that there is a necessary and powerful conjunction between Dickinson being a woman and a poet.[178] Adrienne Rich theorized in Vesuvius at Home: The Power of Emily Dickinson (1976) that Dickinson's identity as a woman poet brought her power: "[she] chose her seclusion, knowing she was exceptional and knowing what she needed ... She carefully selected her society and controlled the disposal of her time ... neither eccentric nor quaint; she was determined to survive, to use her powers, to practice necessary economics."[179]

Some scholars question the poet's sexuality, theorizing that the numerous letters and poems that were dedicated to Susan Gilbert Dickinson indicate a lesbian romance, and speculating about how this may have influenced her poetry.[180] Critics such as John Cody, Lillian Faderman, Vivian R. Pollak, Paula Bennett, Judith Farr, Ellen Louise Hart, and Martha Nell Smith have argued that Susan was the central erotic relationship in Dickinson's life.[9]

Legacy

In the early 20th century, Martha Dickinson Bianchi and Millicent Todd Bingham kept the achievement of Emily Dickinson alive. Bianchi promoted Dickinson's poetic achievement. Bianchi inherited The Evergreens as well as the copyright for her aunt's poetry from her parents, publishing works such as Emily Dickinson Face to Face and Letters of Emily Dickinson, which stoked public curiosity about her aunt. Bianchi's books perpetrated legends about her aunt in the context of family tradition, personal recollection and correspondence. In contrast, Millicent Todd Bingham's took a more objective and realistic approach to the poet.[181]

Emily Dickinson is now considered a powerful and persistent figure in American culture.[182] Although much of the early reception concentrated on Dickinson's eccentric and secluded nature, she has become widely acknowledged as an innovative, proto-modernist poet.[183] As early as 1891, William Dean Howells wrote that "If nothing else had come out of our life but this strange poetry, we should feel that in the work of Emily Dickinson, America, or New England rather, had made a distinctive addition to the literature of the world, and could not be left out of any record of it."[184] Critic Harold Bloom has placed her alongside Walt Whitman, Wallace Stevens, Robert Frost, T. S. Eliot, and Hart Crane as a major American poet,[185] and in 1994 listed her among the 26 central writers of Western civilization.[186]

Dickinson is taught in American literature and poetry classes in the United States from middle school to college. Her poetry is frequently anthologized and has been used as text for art songs by composers such as Aaron Copland, Nick Peros, John Adams and Michael Tilson Thomas.[187] Several schools have been established in her name; for example, Emily Dickinson Elementary Schools exist in Bozeman, Montana;[188] Redmond, Washington;[189] and New York City.[190] A few literary journals—including The Emily Dickinson Journal, the official publication of the Emily Dickinson International Society—have been founded to examine her work.[191] An 8-cent commemorative stamp in honor of Dickinson was issued by the United States Postal Service on August 28, 1971, as the second stamp in the "American Poet" series.[192] Dickinson was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame in 1973.[193] A one-woman play titled The Belle of Amherst appeared on Broadway in 1976, winning several awards; it was later adapted for television.[194]

Dickinson's herbarium, which is now held in the Houghton Library at Harvard University, was published in 2006 as Emily Dickinson's Herbarium by Harvard University Press.[195] The original work was compiled by Dickinson during her years at Amherst Academy, and consists of 424 pressed specimens of plants arranged on 66 pages of a bound album. A digital facsimile of the herbarium is available online.[196] The town of Amherst Jones Library's Special Collections department has an Emily Dickinson Collection consisting of approximately seven thousand items, including original manuscript poems and letters, family correspondence, scholarly articles and books, newspaper clippings, theses, plays, photographs and contemporary artwork and prints.[197] The Archives and Special Collections at Amherst College has substantial holdings of Dickinson's manuscripts and letters as well as a lock of Dickinson's hair and the original of the only positively identified image of the poet. In 1965, in recognition of Dickinson's growing stature as a poet, the Homestead was purchased by Amherst College. It opened to the public for tours, and also served as a faculty residence for many years. The Emily Dickinson Museum was created in 2003 when ownership of the Evergreens, which had been occupied by Dickinson family heirs until 1988, was transferred to the college.[198]

The Dickinson Homestead today, now the Emily Dickinson Museum

By Unknown author - Original photo, GFDL 1.2, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3543945

Emily Dickinson commemorative stamp, 1971

By US Postal Service - Postal Stamp, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22272925

Daydreaming with Emily-1859

A poetic tribute to the Belle of Amherst.

Preface

This is a peripatetic perambulation is a tribute in verse to Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) and her prestidigitational Poetry. I have embarked on this working through, due her words, that had stunned me with an amazing questioning, insightful intuition which I wished to intimately share with her. I have dreamily walked in my imagination through the gardens of her works, in a rough chronological order, and created several virtual versified travelogues. I desired to do this because her poetry contained all sorts of imagery that I could relate to: from truthful looks of alabaster agony to swinging arcs of light that reminded me of multi-hued galaxies gyrating endlessly through my dreams into space-time. It is act of love. This work brings together poetically and philosophically, hand in hand me and Emily, a dramatic dreamtime walkabout of her literary world for the year 1859. Or in my parlance: dreamatisation. Emily with tender skill describes her Poetic Persona well:

“This is my letter to the world,

That never wrote to me, —

The simple news that Nature told,

With tender majesty.

Her message is committed

To hands I cannot see;

For love of her, sweet countrymen,

Judge tenderly of me! “

A Poetic Epistle-Me to Emily.

I met you on a dreamy path-

we talked in your flower bower-

we bared the babel tower-

we had a good laugh!

we oft walked the dreamy path-

now hand in hand-

on the oceans salty sand-

muting the multiverses wrath!

Me the slavish master-

Me caught by your tether-

We forever together-

My mistress alabaster?

Being with you through your words,

I Heard the dawn chorus of birds

We are walking upon the level shore

And brood on love's thaumaturgy no more.

i a poem laden earthquake

epicentre of a fanciful flight

with you in dreams now awake

but hap'ly do remember the night

coupleted in flowery brake

with pomes penetrating insight

Emily are you there?

Or are you upstair,

Doing your hair?

For to visit Scarborough' fair-

No, your head's in a book-

Is this tempting tome new?

Let me sit and have a look?

We can read together on your pew-

dreaming in your crannied nook.

The night is ebbing fast-

should we go to taste the dew?

It could be our last.

So we watched the dawn-

The flowers You and i-

Like the birth of a fawn-

Like the blood red sky

And in a moment-

We did bee like fly-

To nectar torment-

By ambrosia to die.

Your god went with us-

For a whispering while-

I caressed your puss-

As we in the arbour played-

He fled a country mile-

But we enslaved stayed.

Why is your cheek red-

Was it what we did?

Was it a word i said-

As i into you slid?

Tell me sapphic maid-

Did you not for this bid?

You wrote then to me of love-

Your signor paramour-

you wrote of ecstasy's dove-

Damoiselle de la Mort-

As we sat sated in the grove-

You asked me coyly for more

Our eyes opened wide-

We both deeply sighed-

We knew in waking we had died.

Poems 1859 poems 58 to 151

Emily:”Delayed till she had ceased to know -

Delayed till in its vest of snow

Her loving bosom lay -

An hour behind the fleeing breath -

Later by just an hour than Death -”

Me tardily?:”after her thoughts to nought did revert

after wearing ice cold shirt

in which her heart was girt

the last expiration a hands turn past

another hands sweep was her last-”

Emily:”Oh lagging Yesterday!

Could she have guessed that It would be -

Could but a crier of the joy

Have climbed the distant hill-

Had not the bliss so slow a pace

Who knows but this surrendered face

Were undefeated still'

Me tardily?:”where did day before go?

Did her last wind here blow?

did the bellman's cries slow-

as scaling the farthest mount

fading moments as they tick down

conceding aware of life's last face shown

no loss did now count”

Emily:”Oh If there may departing be

Any forgot by Victory

In her Imperial round -

Show them this meek apparelled thing

That could not stop to be a king -

Doubtful if It be crowned!”

Me tardily?:”when leaving behind is allowed

by Nike's memory not avowed

the empress dresses to impress

enrobed in poorly sewn nature

with no time for ruling rapture

no candidate for laurelled success”

Emily:”A little East of Jordan,

EvangelIsts record,

A Gymnast and an Angel

Did wrestle long and hard -”

Goodly Wrestlery Me?:”abrahamic archives show

that to river Jabbock his grand-sire did go

and he a manly seraph did grapple

to with ego domination glow

Emily:”Till morning touching mountain-

And Jacob, waxing strong,

The Angel begged permission

To Breakfast - to return -”

Wrestlery Me?:”they fought until first light

the grandson with his might

forced the to ask for a break

to refresh and then restart the fight.

Emily:”Not so, said cunning Jacob!

He will not let thee go

Except thou bless me" - Stranger!

The which acceded to -”

Wrestlery Me?:”Abraham's spawn answered nay

even in hip pain he bade the seraph stay

“You must give me gods grace”

the beaten angel nodded an Okay-

Emily:”Light swung the silver fleeces

"Peniel" Hills beyond,

And the bewildered Gymnast

Found he had worsted God!”

Wrestlery Me?:”Abraham's spawn aurora's argent beauty did see-

In the face of his vanquished enemy

“struggler with gods” was he now named

and he saw defeater of gods was he!”

Emily:”Like her the Saints retire,

In their Chapeaux of fire,

Martial as she!”

Me flowery showery?:”as she saw canonized off to sleep

wearing night caps of volcanic light

floras heroine doth my joy reap!

Emily:”Like her the Evenings steal

Purple and Cochineal

After the Day'

Me flowery showery?:”as she the gloaming ushers in

bright colours sky did dye

floras heroine did my petal open

Emily:”"Departed" - both - they say!

i.e. gathered away,

Not found,

Me flowery showery?:”gone the darkly deep blue and red!

In vases they my be seen

not now in flora's bed

Emily:”Argues the Aster still-

Reasons the Daffodil

Profound!

Me flowery showery?:”the stocks make defence

the yellow flag message sends:

“floras heroines sense so intense!”

c: 1859 193 2

Emily:”Papa above!

Regard a Mouse

O'erpowered by the Cat!

Reserve within thy kingdom

A "Mansion" for the Rat!

Mousie Rattie Me?:”life's lender in chief

see little rodents mischief

consumed by a furtive feline

can you not give wee timorous thief

a space in your heavenly design?

Emily:”Snug in seraphic Cupboards

To nibble all the day,

While unsuspecting Cycles

Wheel solemnly away!

Mousie Rattie Me?:”cosy in an angelic cheesy larder

with no traps to fear-

safe in an eternal harbour

as year ever cedes to year!

62-

Emily:”“Sown in dishonor"!

Ah! Indeed!

May this “dishonor" be?

If I were half so fine myself

I'd notice nobody!

Saully Epistolary Me?:”from seeds selfish some do grow

we reap as we sow?

Selfishness has its own reward

if I were along such a road to go

my fellow travellers would be ignored

Emily:”Sown In corruption "!

Not so fast!

Apostle is askew!

Corinthians I. 15. narrates

A Circumstance or two!

Epistolary Me?:”from seeds deceit some do grow!

we reap as we sow!

Disciple derailed?

Damascus Saul doth from epiphany know

A few examples where we failed!

c 1859 1914

Emily:”If pain for peace prepares

Lo, what "Augustan" years

Our feet await!

See me?:”mayhap agony readies us for calm

under emperors callous reign

in perilous times its a balm!

Emily:”If springs from winter rise,

Can the Anemones

Be reckoned up?

See me?:”mayhap growth from frozen earth doth come

is the wind flower

included in this sum?

Emily:”If night stands first - then noon

To gird us for the sun,

What gaze!

See me?:”mayhap light rise from darkest night,

solar heat for us to bear

behold that glorious sight!

Emily:”When from a thousand skies

On our developed eyes

Noons blaze!

See me?:”its from multiverse darkly bright

reflected in our retinas

a midnight lit sight!

Emily:”Some Rainbow - coming from the Fair!

Some Vision of the World Cashmere-

I confidently see!

Or else a Peacock's purple Train

Feather by feather - on the plain

Fritters itself away!

Orientally dreamy me?:”newton's sky ribbon in flaxen hair

to an eastern star doth compare-

I'm sure I view

mayhap a royal birds toga many eyed

plumage of our prairie carriage ride

scattered as tempest blew!

Emily:”The dreamy Butterflies bestir!

Lethargic pools resume the whir

Of last year's sundered tune!

From some old Fortress on the sun

Baronial Bees - march - one by one -

In murmuring platoon!

Orientally dreamy me?:”Morpheus's painted ladies awake!

From Lethe's manacles break

the viols of yesteryear restring!

Solar Castles in Spain frequent,

Ducal drones singly in step went-

ethereal armies songs to sing

Emily:”The Robins stand as thick today

As Rakes of snow stood yesterday -

On fence - and Roof - and Twig!

The Orchis binds her feather on

For her old lover - Don the Sun'

Revisiting the Bog!

Orientally dreamy me?:”redbreasts in regimental array

are now where drifting white did lay

on branch and tree and house!

Priapus's son in plumage girt

did Dionysus daughter despoil

a god's murderous rage to arouse!

Emily:”Without Commander! Countless' Still'

The Regiments of Wood and Hill

In bright detachment stand'

Behold Whose Multitudes are these?

The children of whose turbaned seas -

Or what Circassian Land?

Orientally dreamy me?:”leaderless floras host doth throng

marching military arboreally along

to parade ground display attend!

Attention! Where is this hosts home?

From Levantine lands did they roam

to us into raptures ethereal send?

Emily:”I can't tell you - but you feel it-

No! can you tell me-

Saints, with ravished slate and pencil

Solve our April Day!

Showery scholarly me?:”on tongues tip a word unsaid

show me the path we tread

the canonised can with quill and vellum

write us an interbellum!

Emily:”Sweeter than a vanished frolic

From a vanished green!

Swifter than the hoofs of horsemen

Round a Ledge of dream!

Showery scholarly me?:”as honey'd as a bees last dance

from a hive of chance!

Cavalry charge was in slow motion

upon my nightmarish ocean!

Emily:”Modest, let us walk among it

With our faces veiled -

As they say polite Archangels

Do in meeting God!

Showery scholarly me?:”eyes downcast we sailed ahead

in obescience we were led

like seraphim courteous

meeting the one all virtuous!

Emily:”Not for me - to prate about it!

Not for you - to say

To some fashionable Lady

"Charming April Day"!

Showery scholarly me?:”i shouldn't go on so!

You can speak-not know

the words of a wastrel woman

“after the lord mayors show”!

Emily:”Rather - Heaven's «Peter Parley"!

By which Children slow

To sublimer Recitation

Are prepared to go!

Showery scholarly me?:”Better it is to biblically learn

the words of our elders

by which work we earn

les droit de mon Seigneur's!

Emily:”So from the mould

Scarlet and Gold

Many a Bulb will rise -

Hidden away, cunningly,

From sagacious eyes.

Me perplexedly?:”arising from the ground-

bright colours abound-

floras flowers do grow-

they're not easily found

we reap as we sow?

Emily:”So from Cocoon

Many a Worm

Leap so Highland gay,

Peasants like me,

Peasants like Thee

Gaze perplexedly!

Me perplexedly?:”from their larval stage

do imagos emerge

kilted in tartans bright-

rustics we are awed-

rustics we are floored-

by such a querulous sight!

1859 19 I 4

Emily:”Success is counted sweetest

By those who ne'er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need.

Me Unsuccessfully?:”winning is considered best

for those as losers dressed

to drink from the champions cup

I'd be hard pressed.

Emily:”Not one of all the purple Host

Who took the Flag today

Can tell the definition

So clear of Victory

Me Unsuccessfully?:”none of the royal congregation

saluting the banner of our nation

could understand the meaning

of such a laurelled coronation

Emily:”As he defeated - dying -

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Burst agonized and clear!

Me Unsuccessfully?:”when those who lose are lost

what illicit band star-crossed-

will brazen victory trumpets blow-

the agony of success to show!

Emily:”Ambition cannot find him.

Affection doesn't know

How many leagues of nowhere

Lie between them now.

Immortally Me?:”fame seeker is well hid

his desire came unbid

what deserts of dryness

is he now aridly amid

Emily:”Yesterday, undistinguished'

Eminent Today

For our mutual honor,

Immortality'

Immortally Me?:”years passed unknown

now full of renown

we walk together-

fames eternal seeds sown!

Emily:”Low at my problem bending,

Another problem comes -

Larger than mine – Serene! -

Involving statelier sums.

Me Arithmetically :”look as I find one solution

a new snag creates convolution-

its a question beyond compare-

answer's beyond my circumlocution!

Emily:”I check my busy pencil,

My figures file away

Wherefore, my baffled fingers

Thy perplexity?

Me Arithmetically :”looking at my leaky quill

the numbing numbers to still-

how do my inky digits

show my abacus skill?

Emily:"Arcturus" is his other name -

I'd rather call him "Star."

It's very mean of Science

To go and interfere!

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:””bear keeper” he is called

for me he's a “stellar lord.”

astronomers have no heart

to override my watchword!

Emily:”I slew a worm the other day -

A "Savant" passing by

Murmured “Resurgam" - "Centipede"!

“Oh Lord - how frail are we"!

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:”an eater of earth I cut in half

an academic in college scarf

was heard to make a resurrection remark

“you're having a laugh”!

Emily:”I pull a flower from the woods -

A monster with a glass

Computes the stamens in a breath -

And has her in a “class"!

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:”I yank a bloom out of trees shade-

a microscope maniac comments made

classifying my floral foundling

putting her into group man-made!

Emily:”Whereas I took the Butterfly

Aforetime in my hat -

He sits erect in "Cabinets" -

The Clover bells forgot.

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:”I took an admiral red

alive into my bed

he pinned it in a glass case

nectar unsipped to earth bled.

Emily:”What once was "Heaven"

Is "Zenith" now -

Where I proposed to go

When Time's brief masquerade was done

Is mapped and charted too

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:”the garden of edens new designation

is the creationists destination

mine it was as well

to rest my life weary bones

under an irrationalists spell

Emily:”What If the poles should frisk about

And stand upon their heads!

I hope I'm ready for "the worst" -

Whatever prank betides!

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:” when north becomes south

and age becomes youth”

With optimism doom laden

I'll laugh at jolly japes Forsooth!

Emily:”Perhaps the "Kingdom of Heaven's" changed -

I hope the "Children" there

Won't be "new fashioned" when I come -

And laugh at me - and stare -

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:”maybe the realm of above shifted-

so when I childlike arrive

the inhabitants wont be too gifted

so be amused as with eternity I strive.

Emily:”I hope the Father In the skies

Will lift his little girl-

Old fashioned - naughty - everything -

Over the stile of "Pearl.”

Naughty Me Nostalgically?:”I yearn for the time of grace

when father time will his daughter embrace

out of date-impish-all seeing-bright-

so lead her to wide open vistas of space!

Emily:”A throe upon the features-

A hurry in the breath -

An ecstasy of parting

Denominated "Death" -

deadly me?:”sudden rattle in the throat

as lungs are smote

the joy of expiring

of ones dear departing

Emily:”An anguish at the mention

Which when to patience grown,

I've known permission given

To rejoin its own.

deadly me?:”the pain of last words spoken

waiting for a personal token

that the parting intimate

entering Peter's pearly gate

Emily:”Glowing is her Bonnet,

Glowing is her Cheek,

Glowing is her Kirtle,

Yet she cannot speak.

Florally me Silently:”she has a shining capote

she has a shining face

she has a shimmering coat

she is as silent as a mouse

Emily:”Better as the Daisy

From the Summer hill

Vanish unrecorded

Save by tearful rill -

Florally me Silently:”as Freya's flower she is best

when like an Oreads dream

she is gone unnoticed-

except by sighing stream

Emily:”Save by loving sunrise

Looking for her face

Save by feet unnumbered

Pausing at the place.

Florally me Silently:”except by auroras warm caress

feeling for her pouting lips

except by those who shall senesce

sampling her nectar in sultry sips.

Emily:”Who never lost, are unprepared

A Coronet to find!

Who never thirsted

Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!

Me Bravely?:”if you felt disappointment not

are you ready to untold riches unveil

if you weren't a drunken sot

are you ready for a refreshing Adams ale!

Emily:”Who never climbed the weary league-

Can such a foot explore

The purple territories

On Pizarro's shore?

Me Bravely?:”if you haven't followed a mountain path

Are you ready for the hills of pain

if you aren't a man of wrath

are you ready for the conquistadors of Spain?

Emily:”How many Legions overcome -

The Emperor will say?

How many Colours taken

On Revolution Day?

Me Bravely?:”If you never as a rebel fought

are you ready to topple a king?

If you are just an afterthought-

are you ready to in celebration sing?

Emily:”How many Bullets bearest?

Hast Thou the Royal scar?

Angels! Write "Promoted"

On this Soldier's brow!

Me Bravely?:”if you were never by bullet taken

Are you ready to be cut to a shred?

If you are on the battlefield body broken-

they'll lay victors laurel on your dead head!

c. 1859 z891

Emily:”A Lady red - amid the Hill

Her annual secret keeps!

A Lady white, within the Field

In placid Lily sleeps!

Housewifely me?:”upon the tor a Scarlett widow

a yearly cache has veiled

pale mistress in a meadow

in dreamy petals concealed

Emily:”The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms -

Sweep vale - and hill- and tree!

Prithee, My pretty Housewives!

Who may expected be?

Housewifely me?:”zephyr's feather duster doth blow

brushing landscape spotlessly clean!

Wife tell me what you know!

which guests may be seen?

Emily:”The Neighbors do not yet suspect!

The Woods exchange a smile!

Orchard, and Buttercup, and Bird -

In such a little while!

Housewifely me?:” in the village its rumoured by a few

but root and branch all seem to know!

The blossoms and birds do too-

we shall reap as we sow!

Emily:”And yet, how still the Landscape stands'

How nonchalant the Hedge!

As if the "Resurrection"

Were nothing very strange!

Housewifely me?:”the rural air is soft and unsurly

the bushes calmness bring!

its like renewal yearly

were a natural thing!

Emily:”She died at play,

Gambolled away

Her lease of spotted hours,

Then sank as gaily as a Turk

Upon a Couch of flowers.

Hauntingly me?:”while having fun she was sudden gone

prancingly passing on

she had used her allotted days

as happy as a lark

now the ferryman she pays.

Emily:”Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill

Yesterday, and Today,

Her vestments as the silver fleece -

Her countenance as spray.

Hauntingly me?:”spectrally she with us roamed

pastly and presently

in cloudy gossamer garments clothed

with a face smiling pleasantly

Emily:”Exultation is the going

Of an inland soul to sea,

Past the houses - past the headlands -

Into deep Eternity -

Seascapy me?:”rapture is setting sail

when a land lubber I've been

leaving dales and vales in my wake

into ocean's heart never seen

Emily:”Bred as we, among the mountains,

Can the sailor understand

The divine intoxication

Of the first league out from land?

Seascapy me?:”with the chamois we did grow-

is the mariner aware

of our minds ethereal flow

as into the finite infinite we stare?

Emily:”I never hear the word "escape"

Without a quicker blood,

A sudden expectation,

A flying attitude!

Escapee Me?:”if the word “freedom” is said

it sets a madness in my head

its an overpowering need

to myself from domesticity be freed!

Emily:”I never hear of prisons broad

By soldiers battered down,

But I tug childish at my bars

Only to fail again!

Escapee Me?:”when the jail break is narrated

the warriors desire to be liberated

pulls at my heart strings

but also clips my flighty wings!

Emily:”A poor - torn heart - a tattered heart -

That sat it down to rest -

Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day

Flowed silver to the West-

Breaky achy hearty me?:”what beats broken in my bereft bosom?

Unable to move-I'm paralysed-

I'm blind to evening sky blossom

by its beauty not surprised-

Emily:”Nor noticed Night did soft descend -

Nor Constellation burn -

Intent upon the vision

Of latitudes unknown.

Breaky achy hearty me?:”i couldn't even see dark curtain drawn-

with orbs unlit to my eye-

all I could do was yawn

and star-crossed sadly sigh.

Emily:”The angels - happening that way

This dusty heart espied -

Tenderly took it up from toil

And carried it to God -

Breaky achy hearty me?:”seraphs seeing my distressful plight

Took my sadness in hand

and massaged it-fingers light

to soothing saviours land-

Emily:”There - sandals for the Barefoot -

There - gathered from the gales -

Do the blue havens by the hand

Lead the wandering Sails.

Breaky achy hearty me?:”whence with solace shod

whence safe from storm

harbours balm I found

to my broken cockles warm.

Emily:”Going to Heaven!

I don't know when-

Pray do not ask me how!

Indeed I'm too astonished

To think of answering you!

Heavenly me reunitedly?:”one day I'll with angels fly!

no idea of the date!

When I'll be late

too astounded to your question reply

im not going to take your bait

Emily:”Going to Heaven!

How dim It sounds!

And yet it will be done

As sure as flocks go home at night

Unto the Shepherd's arm!

Perhaps you're going too!

Who knows?

Heavenly me reunitedly?:”one day I'll with angels fly!

so silly when you say it out loud!

I will be wearing my burial shroud

with those I've lost I'll lie

under taken to eternities crowd

mayhap it'll be you and I

never to be seen below the sky?

Emily:”If you should get there first

Save just a little space for me

Close to the two I lost -

The smallest "Robe" will fit me

And just a bit of "Crown" -

For you know we do not mind our dress

When we are going home -

Heavenly me reunitedly?:”remember me if I arrive late-

keep a small place in deaths row

near to my dearest departed duo-

remember I'm only lightweight

I don't need to put on a show

it doesn't matter what garb you designate

when its at home we congregate

Emily:”I'm glad I don't believe it

For it would stop my breath -

And I'd like to look a little more

At such a curious Earth!

I'm glad they did believe it

Whom I have never found

Since the mighty Autumn afternoon

I left them in the ground.

Heavenly me reunitedly?:”it's good I'm thought a liar

because it could cause my demise

I'd miss what's in front of my eyes

I'd miss natures wonder entire-

it's good I'm not thought a liar

by those close that did expire

on that fall day of sad sighs

leaving them where truth lies.

Emily:”Our lives are Swiss -

So still- so Cool-

Till some odd afternoon

The Alps neglect their Curtains

And we look farther on!

Europeanly me?:”we breath alpine air when alive

its good for us as we survive

then on a random day

pollution soils our hive

so we'll waste away

Emily:”Italy stands the other side!

While like a guard between -

The solemn Alps -

The siren Alps

Forever intervene!

Europeanly me?:”Latin mountain air is over there!

its aura says “take care”-

these dreaming peaks-

these somnolent peaks-

our souls bare!

Emily:”We should not mind so small a flower -

Except it quiet bring

Our little garden that we lost

Back to the Lawn again.

Flowery fairy Me?:”its so wee an elfin bloom

to reek such doom-

a small Eden it did scourge

in green grass doth emerge

Emily:”So spicy her Carnations nod

So drunken, reel her Bees -

So silver steal a hundred flutes

From out a hundred trees-

Flowery fairy Me?:”we see as dianthus into sleep slips

thus drones drowsily doze

thus nectars thronging argent drips-

and woodwind aborescent blows-

Emily:”That whoso sees this little flower

By faith may clear behold

The Bobolinks around the throne

And Dandelions gold.

Flowery fairy Me?:”when wee elfin bloom is viewed

possibly on the heath-

bob o Lincoln's in hosts queued

to see the golden dragon's teeth.

Emily:”Whose cheek is this?

What rosy face

Has lost a blush today?

I found her - “pleiad" - in the woods

And bore her safe away.

Starry Sisterly me?:”what bloom lies hidden here

has it shed a tear?

Why is it so wan?

On a tree'd path sister Aster I won-

she I plucked to keep dear.

Emily:”Robins, in the tradition

Did cover such with leaves,

But which the cheek -

And which the pall

My scrutiny deceives.

Starry Sisterly me?:”its said that the redbreast

do bury such stars in the nest-

I cant tell if it shines

or if it repines

I have cannot either way attest.

Emily:”Heart, not so heavy as mine

Wending late home -

As it passed my window

Whistled itself a tune -

Wistfully watchfully me?: “with melancholy I heard

a sad soldier stagger along

his passing something in me stirred

he whistling a bluesish song

Emily:”A careless snatch - a ballad

A ditty of the street -

Yet to my irritated Ear

An Anodyne so sweet -

Wistfully watchfully me?: “It was a badly rendered tune

a common mans hymn-

to me it was no hateful croon

but to a balmy calm psalm akin-

Emily:”It was as if a Bobolink

Sauntering this way

Carolled, and paused, and carolled -

Then bubbled slow away!

Wistfully watchfully me?: “mayhap a nightingale

had meandered by

singing over hill and dale-

then left me bereft-to sigh!

Emily:”It was as if a chirping brook

Upon a dusty way -

Set bleeding feet to minuets

Without the knowing why!

Wistfully watchfully me?: “like a melodious stream

slaking my thirst deep

my weary body to redeem

was awake or asleep?

Emily:”Tomorrow, night will come again -

Perhaps, weary and sore -

Ah Bugle! By my window

I pray you pass once more.

Wistfully watchfully me?: “I'll wait patiently for your carousing

with wistful hope embalmed-

Oh Soldier! Why so arousing?

Return prince-by who I was so charmed!

Emily:”Her breast is fit for pearls,

But I was not a "Diver" -

Her brow is fit for thrones

But I have not a crest.

Me Unambitiously?:”no necklace of nacre's daughter

could I for her dryly find-

no crown for her beauty either

as I'm not that way inclined.

Emily:”Her heart is fit for home -

I - a Sparrow - build there

Sweet of twigs and twine

My perennial nest.

Me Unambitiously?:”she is prone to familial laughter

so can I with her happily bind,

desert of milk and honey comes after-

we're safe here kin entwined.

Emily:”“They have not chosen me," he said,

“But I have chosen them!"

Brave - Broken hearted statement-

Uttered in Bethlehem'

me fruitfully:”was it the planter not the planted

was it the planted not the planter

Or the enchanter who chanted

“I'm your divine vine growing Levanter”

Emily:”I could not have told it,

But Since Jesus dared -

Sovereign! Know a Daisy

Thy dishonour shared!

me fruitfully:”without my Levantine saviours speech

I would not have spoken:

“father you should growth teach

not to me disdainfully preach!”

c. 1859 1894

Emily:”South Winds jostle them -

Bumblebees come -

Hover - hesitate -

Drink, and are gone -

flutterby bee me?”floral flags summer doth unfurl

for the honeycomber tigerish

who around petals does twirl-

they nectar quick sip and vanish

Emily:”Butterflies pause

On their passage Cashmere -

I - softly plucking,

Present them here!

flutterby bee me?”Painted lady's sip too

to fuel their African flight

they touch me and you

gifts to the sense of sight!

Emily:”A darting fear - a pomp - a tear -

A waking on a morn

To find that what one waked for,

Inhales the different dawn.

Nightmarishly me?:”from a bad dream I was shaken

to find that it was deja vu

walking over my grave forsaken

It was a desolate view.

c 1859 1945

Emily:”As by the dead we love to sit,

Become so wondrous dear -

As for the lost we grapple

Tho' all the rest are here -

Prospero-usly me?:”of my dearly departed I dream

so close that we can touch

waking I them still esteem

I love them that much

Emily:”In broken mathematics

We estimate our prize

Vast - in its fading ratio

To our penurious eyes!

Prospero-usly me?:”with my dreamy future lover

I arithmetically contrive-

the christmas carol question to uncover-

Are we dead or are we alive?

Emily:”Some things that fly there be -

Buds - Hour!- the Bumblebee-

Of these no Elegy.

Fatally Me questioningly?:”the ephemeral around us oft do we see

the mayfly, the blossom, the seconds that flee

for them we mourn daily

Emily:”Some things that stay there be -

Grief - Hills - Eternity-

Nor this behooveth me.

Fatally Me questioningly?:”the permanent around us oft do we see

sadness, mountains, the pitiless sea-

what is their responsibility?

Emily:”There are that resting, rise.

Can I expound the skies?

How still the Riddle lies!

Fatally Me questioningly?:”eternal recurrence all this belies

what is it that all this implies?

The question on my lip endlessly dies!

c. r859 1890

Emily:”Within my reach!

I could have touched!

I might have chanced that way!

Soft sauntered thro' the village -

Sauntered as soft away!

Touchingly me?:” at arms length seen!

So near it did hurt!

Was it meant to be?

Blowing caressingly my skirt

then escaping caressingly free!

Emily:”So unsuspected Violets

Within the meadows go-

Too late for striving fingers

That passed, an hour ago!

Touchingly me?:”thus the purple petals secrets

are in the field unfound-

untouched by digging digits

have they now gone to ground?

c. 1859 r89°

Emily:”So bashful when I spied her!

So pretty - so ashamed!

So hidden in her leaflets

Lest anybody find -

Slyly me shyly?:” shy she was under my scrutiny-

her eyes cast down modestly

hid under leafy greenery

what may her secret be?

Emily:”So breathless till I passed her -

So helpless when I turned

And bore her struggling, blushing,

Her simple haunts beyond!

Slyly me shyly?:”her beauty elicited from me a sigh

as her i passed with predatory eye

I plucked her then like a star from the sky

I thought maybe she stifled a cry!

Emily:”For whom I robbed the Dingle -

For whom betrayed the Dell

Many will doubtless ask me,

But I shall never tell!

Slyly me shyly?:”i know some will enquire-

why did you against nature conspire?

was it because you're a versifier?

But I'll ne'er quench such a curious fire!

Emily:”My friend must be a Bird -

Because it flies!

Mortal, my friend must be,

Because it dies!

Timely me?:”is it an ostrich?

for it has wings!

is it hugely rich?

for it money brings!

Emily:”Barbs has It, like a Bee'

Ah, curious friend!

Thou puzzlest me!

Timely me?:”procrastination steals it from me!

its a great healer of wounds bleeding free!

What on earth could it be?

Emily:”Went up a year this evening!

I recollect it well!

Amid no bells nor bravoes

The bystanders will tell!

anniversary me?:”another nail in the coffin

so some witty wag jests

no cheers or halloo's in the offing

such are words of my guests

Emily:”Cheerful - as to the village -

Tranquil- as to repose -

Chastened - as to the Chapel

This humble Tourist rose!

anniversary me?:”happily I am in the hamlet

calmly off to my prayers to say

my lost beloved not forget

meekly on a special day

Emily:”Did not talk of returning!

Alluded to no time

When, were the gales propitious -

We might look for him!

anniversary me?:I've no intent to that day repeat

I mentioned not when we did meet

windblown on the street

and swept me off my feet!

Emily:”Was grateful for the Roses

In life's diverse bouquet-

Talked softly of new species

To pick another day;

anniversary me?:he gave me blooms beautiful to see-

part of flora's rich tapestry-

his words were nectar to me-

then he left me to go to sea.

Emily:”Beguiling thus the wonder

The wondrous nearer drew -

Hands bustled at the moorings -

The crowd respectful grew -

anniversary me?: so It was with ardour

I watched the ships sails white

saw them tied safe in harbour

But he was nowhere in sight-

Emily:”Ascended from our vision

To Countenances new!

A Difference - A Daisy -

Is all the rest I knew!

anniversary me?:”perhaps he's in a paradisal Eden

where blooms are always bright

but memory of our shared garden

plagues my heart like a blight!

c. 1859 1891

Emily:”Angels, in the early morning

May be seen the Dews among,

Stooping - plucking - smiling - flying -

Do the Buds to them belong?

seraphically Me?:”gossamer winged at dazy dawn

in grassy pearls they shower

arising like cherubims new born

do they own each and every flower?

Emily:”Angels, when the sun is hottest

May be seen the sands among,

Stooping - plucking - sighing - flying -

Parched the flowers they bear along.

seraphically Me?:”gossamer winged at solar zenith

dancing in the dunes at hottest hour

arising like cherubims new birth

thirsty the blooms in this dry bower.

c. 1859 1890

Emily:”My nosegays are for Captives-

Dim -long expectant eyes,

Fingers denied the plucking,

Patient till Paradise.

Captively me plaintively?:”floras issue who were kidnapped

for flashing furtive eyes to view

I had digital alibis shaped

waiting in Eden for you.

Emily:”To such, if they should whisper

Of morning and the moor,

They bear no other errand,

And I, no other prayer.

Captively me plaintively?:”if accusations finger pointers made

of witnessed time and place seen

I state my excuse as a honest maid-

“I don't know what you mean!”

c. 1859 z891

Emily:”Sexton! My Master's sleeping here.

Pray lead me to his bed!

I came to build the Bird's nest,

And sow the Early seed -

Dreamy Masterly me:”in this churchyard he perchanced to dream.

Show me where my seigneur's laid!

I was here to make it homely seem

a bloomy roost from my love made

Emily:”That when the snow creeps slowly

From off his chamber door -

Daisies point the way there -

And the Troubadour.

Dreamy Masterly me:” the thaw this flowery sign will show

to his last sleeping place a route-

follow the floral avenue that I did grow

follow too sound of minstrels flute.

c. 1859 1935

Emily:”The rainbow never tells me

That gust and storm are by,

Yet is she more convincing

Than Philosophy.

Rainbowly me weatherly?: Newtons coloured ribbon is unable

to windy weather augur,

but her spectral timetable

has some mystic rigour.

Emily:”My flowers turn from Forums-

Yet eloquent declare

What Cato couldn't prove me

Except the birds were here!

Rainbowly me weatherly?: “For my blossoms is it inauspicious?

Though their demeanour doth indicate-

a scientist's lemma loquacious-

that their nectar avian appetites sate!

c. 1859 1929

Emily:”One dignity delays for all -

One mined Afternoon -

None can avoid thls purple -

None evade this Crown!

Paradingy doubtfully me:”a name of fame appears in town

on notable days they visit

you can't avoid each toga gown

or ignore thrones on which they sit!

Emily:”Coach, it insures, and footmen -

Chamber, and state, and throng-

Bells, also, in the village

As we ride grand along!

Dignity doubtfully me:”the carriages and the nobles entourage

are seen to strut in stately ceremony

there's ringing to awe to encourage

amidst such posh barony

Emily:”What dignified Attendants!

What service when we pause!

How loyally at parting

Their hundred hats they raise!

Dignity doubtfully me:”such a grand audience watching!

Do we give them satisfaction?

Their lordliness matching

admitting their noblesse oblige attraction

Emily:”How pomp surpassing ermine

When simple You, and I,

Present our meek escutcheon

And claim the rank to die!

Dignity doubtfully me:”their garb is royal intimidating

we as peasants dressed queue

and our meek motto do bring:

“we who'll soon go salute you!”

c. 1859 1890

'[ 48}

Emily:”New feet within my garden go-

New fingers stir the sod-

A Troubadour upon the Elm

Betrays the solitude.

Deathly Natally me?:”as root freshly shod did rise

from the fecund freshly fertile earth-

fresh a song from the tree flies-

fresh hatched in a solitary berth.

Emily:”New children play upon the green -

New Weary sleep below-

And still the pensive Spring returns -

And still the punctual snow!

Deathly natally me?:”as offspring freshly in fun do sport

as freshly buried perchance to dream-

fresh seasons we annually import

fresh rains from them teem!

c. 1859 1890

100

Emily:”A science - so the Savants say,

"Comparative Anatomy” -

By which a single bone -

Is made a secret to unfold

Of some rare tenant of the mold,

Else perished In the stone -

Scientifically skeptically me?:” there's a tome natural philosophic

skeletally based-logically specific

where every calcified part

has a story to be narrated

of the bodies ill fated

journey to the sexton's cart-

Emily:”So to the eye prospective led,

This meekest flower of the mead

Upon a winter's day,

Stands representative in gold

Of Rose and Lily, manifold,

And countless Butterfly!

Scientifically sceptically me?:”this tome of life keeps our eyes peeled-

we see the smallest plants in the field

at Christmas solstice-

a story of birth related-

knowing floral blossom is created

from 'neath a blanket of ice!

c. 1859 1929

101

Emily:”Will there really be a "Morning"?

Is there such a thing as "Day"?

Could I see it from the mountains

If I were as tall as they?

Timely morningly me?:”Is a dawn arriving after night?

Will it bring us light?

can my Eagle eyes in an eerie alpine

of aurora's coming see any sign?

Emily:”Has it feet like Water lilies?

Has It feathers like a Bird?

Is it brought from famous countries

Of which I have never heard?

Timely morningly me?:”does it like a flea bite?

Or fly like a kite?

Is it imported from a remote coastline

an unknown land foreign?

Emily:”Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!

Oh some Wise Man from the skies!

Please to tell a little Pilgrim

Where the place called "Morning" lies!

Timely morning me?:”with the worldly wise I plead

there some information I need!

how on earth can wee me decide

where the breaking day doth abide?

102

Emily:”Great Caesar! Condescend

The Daisy, to receive,

Gathered by Cato's Daughter,

With your majestic leave!

Kingly Flowery me?:”royal person please deign

freyas frail flower not to distain-

gathered by a maguses maid

and at your feet regally laid!

103

Emily:”I have a King, who does not speak -

So - wondering - thro' the hours meek

I trudge the day away -

Half glad when it is night, and sleep,

If, haply, thro' a dream, to peep

In parlors, shut by day.

Masterly me dreamily?”when awake my master is silent

so my day is oft ill spent

on daily treadmill my ennui exposed-

but I'm cheered when in Morpheus' arms I feel

my dreamy masters voice can reveal

chambers of secrets that are normally closed

Emily:”And if I do - when morning comes -

It is as if a hundred drums

Did round my pillow roll,

And shouts fill all my Childish sky,

And Bells keep saying "Victory"

From steeples in my soul!

Masterly me dreamily?”if chambered mysteries are by dawn cleared

its like an epiphany to me appeared

choir invisibles music is discovered

and so I become music of the spheres

primum mobile of joyful tears-

my master has my ecstatic essence uncovered!

Emily:”And if I don't - the little Bird

Within the Orchard, is not heard,

And I omit to pray

"Father, thy will be done” today

For my will goes the other way,

And it were perjury!

Masterly me dreamily?”if by dawn my master has not spoke

a pall falls over me like a black cloak

I can't see, hear or supplicate

“thanks for my daily bread!”

for I inside painfully bled

its an oath breaking to fate!

104

Emily:”Where I have lost, I softer tread -

I sow sweet flower from garden bed -

I pause above that vanished head

And mourn.

Feelingly Mourningly me?”:over the place of loss I piano pace

planting blossoms to memory embrace

refecting upon the lost face

and lostly lament

Emily:”Whom I have lost, I pious guard

From accent harsh, or ruthless word -

Feeling as If their pillow heard,

Though stone!

Feelingly Mourningly me?”:i religiously stand sentinel to those gone

halting any comments made of a nasty tone

so they are not insulted and groan

though they're always still content!

Emily:”When I have lost, you'll know by this -

A Bonnet black - A dusk surplice -

A little tremor in my voice

Like this!

Feelingly Mourningly me?”:you can tell im bereft as oft I sigh

wear widows weeds will I-

weeping softly I cry-

to my agony ease!

Emily:”Why, I have lost, the people know

Who dressed in frocks of purest snow

Went home a century ago

Next Bliss!

Feelingly Mourningly me?”:those who complete this eternal rite

years ago wore dresses of icy white-

dreaming each dead as a doornail night-

of restful endless peace!

105

Emily:”To hang our head - ostensibly -

And subsequent, to find

That such was not the posture

Of our immortal mind -

prayingly pretentiously me?:”when we pretend to pray

afterwards we will pay

for the supplication

was pure pretension-

Emily:”Affords the sly presumption

That in so dense a fuzz -

You - too - take Cobweb attitudes

Upon a plane of Gauze!

prayingly pretentiously me?:”its because empty gestures

do cloud our faithful futures

in webs of intrigue

wrapped vacuous in enigmatic sutures!

106

Emily:”The Daisy follows soft the Sun -

And when his golden walk is done -

Sits shyly at his feet

shadowy sunny me?:”freyas flower stalked solar light

and when his sky stroll ends at night

she her petals do coyly close.

Emily:”He - waking - finds the flower there-

Wherefore - Marauder - art thou here?

Because, Sir, love is sweet!

shadowy sunny me?:”he peeps to find her in dreamy bliss-

is he here to steal a kiss?

A peck on the cheek he chose!

Emily:”We are the Flower - Thou the Sun!

Forgive us if as days decline -

We nearer steal to Thee!

shadowy sunny me?:”she wakes aware of his radiant stare

my beauty ephemeral I will share

as my growing slows!

Emily:”Enamoured of the parting West -

The peace - the flight - the Amethyst -

Night's possibility!

shadowy sunny me?:”and when again to night day slides

he his light under a bushel hides

so from death life rose!

c. 1859 1890

107

Emily:”'Twas such a little - little boat

That toddled down the bay!

'Twas such a gallant - gallant sea

That beckoned it away!

Wreckingly crewly me?:” a small - small ship destination ocean

sheets unfurled - see it away sweep!

Bravely facing tidal emotion-

that called it to the dangerous deep!

Emily:”''Twas such a greedy, greedy wave

That licked it from the Coast-

Nor ever guessed the stately sails

My little craft was lost!

Wreckingly crewly me?:”then a tsunami from blue did arise

and took hold of it whole-

the crew was all woe and surprise-

as drowned was every soul!

c. 1859 1890

108

Emily:”Surgeons must be very careful

When they take the knife!

Underneath their fine incisions

Stirs the Culplit - Life!

Cuttingly me?:”a sawbones needs to be aware

as scalpel is ready to pare

that he cuts with care

thus the patient's life he'll spare!

c. 1859 1891

109

Emily:”By a flower - By a letter -

By a humble love -

If I weld the Rivet faster -

Final fast - above -

Smithy me?:”bloomed-written-

shyly I am smitten

nails to the quick bitten

in the smiths fire stricken

Emily:”Never mind my breathless Anvil!

Never mind Repose!

N ever mind the sooty faces

Tugging at the Forge!

Smithy me?:”ignore my tongue of flame

do not my ardour tame!

Ignore agonised face of fame

quench my branded name!

c 1859 1932

110

Emily:”Artists wrestled here!

Lo, a tint Cashmere!

Lo, a Rose!

Student of the Year!

For the easel here

Say Repose!

Painterly me?:”painters grapple with lodestar!

A brush dipped in tar!

A brush dipped in death!

Best images by far!

canvas not to mar-

still lifes last breath!

c. 1859 1945

I I I

Emily:”The Bee is not afraid of me.

I know the Butterfly

The pretty people in the Woods

Receive me cordially -

friendly summery naturely me?:”me and the drone good freinds be

the painted lady's not my enemy-

the copses nodding heads say “hello”-

“come and watch us grow”

Emily:”The Brooks laugh louder when I come -

The Breezes madder play,

Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,

Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?

friendly naturely me?:”streams snicker as I pass

zephyrs blow happily in grass

why am I sunny natures mistress

wearing her canicular dress?

c. 1859 1890

112

Emily:”Where bells no more affright the morn -

Where scrabble never comes -

Where very nimble Gentlemen

Are forced to keep their rooms -

Gonely me?:”ringing shall not scare daylights from us

there's no noisy crowd to dread

the callisthenic fools don't us fuss

as they are made to stay abed

Emily:”Where tired Children placid sleep

Thro' Centuries of noon

This place is Bliss - this town is Heaven -

Please, Pater, pretty soon!

Gonely me?:”kids are seen not heard

they can long lie for years

here total happiness has occurred

please open to me your frontiers!

Emily:”"Oh could we climb where Moses stood,

And view the Landscape o'er':

Not Father's bells - nor Factories,

Could scare us any more!

Gonely me?:”from where the commandments were read

we can see all paradisal lands-

we'll fear not for our daily bread-

for we're in eternities hands!

c. 1859 1945

II3

Emily:”Our share of night to bear -

Our share of morning -

Our blank In bliss to fill

Our blank In scorning -

blankly starey me?:”we are partial to the night

we are partial to the early day

we a tabula rasa of ecstatic possibility

we a tabula rasa may gainsay-

Emily:”Here a star, and there a star,

Some lose their way!

Here a mist, and there a mist,

Afterwards – Day!

blankly starey me?:”is it a heavenly or celestial body we see?

wandering in the night skies

or is it a nebula or a galaxy?

Only the daylight will open our eyes!

c. 1859 1890

I14

Emily:”Good night, because we must,

How intricate the dust!

I would go, to know!

Oh Incognito!

Interrogatory me Angelically?:”Needs must we sleep-so to bed go

the primum mobile doesn't show-

I'd drop everything to discover

who's the anonymous prime mover.

Emily:”Saucy, Saucy Seraph

To elude me so!

Father! they won't tell me,

Won't you tell them to?

Interrogatory me?:”naughty, naughty angel

why avoid my eyes-

“master! Nothing they'll tell-

please instruct them otherwise!

c. 1859 1945

I 15

Emily:”What Inn is this

Where for the night

Peculiar Traveller comes?

Who is the Landlord?

Where the maids?

Hostelry mystery me?:”is this a hostel or a stable?

For there is here hospitality available

for new wed weary wanderers

but there's no clean table

and there's no room service

Emily:”Behold, what curious rooms!

No ruddy fires on the hearth -

No brimming Tankards How-

Necromancer! Landlord!

Who are these below?

Hostelry me?:”the chamber is carpeted with straw-

the other guests feed from the floor-

they don't request any ale-

they just moo at the door-

who be the two strangers asleep on a bale?

II6

Emily:”I had some things that I called mine -

And God, that he called his,

Till, recently a rival Claim

Disturbed these amities.

possessively me litigiously?:”there are possessions of my own

the creator possessions has too

but which is whose is not well known

from these seeds a dispute grew

Emily:”The property, my garden,

Which having sown with care,

He claims the pretty acre,

And sends a Bailiff there.

possessively me litigiously?:”it was my little niche of floral life-

that I cultivated with so tenderly-

that caused such strife

for his fatal hand took it from me.

Emily:”The station of the parties

Forbids publicity,

But Justice is sublimer

Than arms, or pedigree.

possessively me litigiously?:”the law of property states

we can't openly about it prate-

for the legal process is fairer-

than nepotic or warlike debate?

Emily:”I'll institute an "Action" -

I'll vindicate the law -

Jove! Choose your counsel -

I retain "Shaw"!

possessively me litigiously?:”So to legal eagles I will resort

juris prudence shall be my guide-

Creator! See you in court!

With Justice Lemuel by my side!

117

Emily:”In rags mysterious as these

The shining Courtiers go -

Veiling the purple, and the plumes

Veiling the ermine so.

Entreatingly beggarly me?:”a disguise kingsmen do adorn

masks of the poor are worn

hiding the velvet and crowns

hiding the bejewelled gowns

Emily:”Smiling, as they request an alms -

At some imposing door!

Smiling when we walk barefoot

Upon their golden floor!

Entreatingly beggarly me?”they thus act beggarly

arriveat manor acting entreatingly

they enter in as paupers unshod

thanking their gold calf god!

1945

c. z859

118

Emily:”My friend attacks my friend!

Oh Battle picturesque!

Then I turn Soldier too,

And he turns Satirist!

Internecinely me satirically:”a fight I see between those close to me

both with war paint on!

I can be a brave Shoshone

and my cynical headress don!

Emily:”How martial is this place!

Had I a mighty gun

I think I'd shoot the human race

And then to glory run!

Internecinely me satirically:”its just like an Indian reservation

I would with big gun rebels quell

shoot the whole nation

who in conflict dwell!

II9

Emily:”Talk with prudence to a Beggar

Of "Potosi," and the mines!

Reverently, to the Hungry

Of your viands, and your wines!

Chatty me respectfully?:”when conversing with the financially ravished

do not talk of your silver hoard-

when conversing with the famished

do not talk of the richness of your board!

Emily:”Cautious, hint to any Captive

You have passed enfranchised feet!

Anecdotes of air in Dungeons

Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!

Chatty me respectfully?:”when with a prisoner talking

don't mention being unchained-

telling stories of to freedom walking

would be totally crackbrained!

120

Emily:”If this is "fading"

Oh let me immediately "fade"!

If this is "dying"

Bury me, in such a shroud of red!

Doubly meaningly me?:”what is passing into shadow

does it put me in the shade?

Does Die casting decide when I go?

mayhap snakes eyes were made!

Emily:”If this is "sleep,"

On such a night

How proud to shut the eye!

Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!

Peacock presumes to die!

Doubly meaningly me?:”what is it to “expire”

a sharp out take of breath

it doth me inspire-

breathe your last gentle lileth

finally quench your living fire!

[ ;6 ]

1945

C 1859

121

Emily:”As Watchers hang upon the East,

As Beggars revel at a feast

By savory Fancy spread-

truly me miraculously?:”testament seer oriental

observe the starving indulge alimental

from loaf and fish miracle monumental

Emily:”As brooks In deserts babble sweet

On ear too far for the delight,

Heaven beguiles the tired.

truly me miraculously?:”from desert rock spring water flows

so I heard from one who knows

commandments on us he did impose.

Emily:”As that same watcher, when the East

Opens the lid of Amethyst

And lets the morning go -

truly me miraculously?:”testament seer oriental

let the day ornamental

dawn bluely sacramental

Emily:”That Beggar, when an honored Guest,

Those thirsty lips to flagons pressed,

Heaven to us, if true.

Truly me miraculously?:”the paupers enjoy kingly hospitality

with wine, women and song make free

I do believe-but suspiciously.

122

Emily:”A something In a summer's Day

As slow her flambeaux burn away

Which solemnizes me.

Daily me Summery?:”the diurnal dog wags his sunny tail

floral candelabras my eyes impale

a ceremony for me to unveil

Emily:”A something in a summer's noon -

A depth - an Azure - a perfume -

Transcending ecstasy.

Daily me Summery?:”at suns zenith canicular

floral fragrances nasal bouquets are

sending me higher than a deodar.

Emily:”And still within a summer's night

A something so transporting bright

I clap my hands to see -

Daily me Summery?:”and when the dog days done

canis major in the sky shone

a sight second to none-

Emily:”Then veil my too inspecting face

Lest such a subtle - shimmering grace

Flutter too far for me -

Daily me Summery?:”i watch from afar

the painted ladies feed on nectar

so not to disturb their aura

Emily:”The wizard fingers never rest -

The purple brook within the breast

Still chafes its narrow bed-

Daily me Summery?:”the chenille crawls capterpillary

the petunias are merry

trying to escape its territory

Emily:”Still rears the East her amber Flag -

Guides still the Sun along the Crag

His Caravan of Red -

Daily me Summery?:”quiet the dog day setting sun

walked with amber slippers on

his crimson parting doth me stun.

Emily:”So looking on - the night - the morn

Conclude the wonder gay -

And I meet, coming thro' the dews

Another summer's Day!

Daily me Summery?:”the memory of this summers day

doth happily with me stay-

when I at dawn see the first suns ray

more daily canicular delight to display!

123

Emily:”Many cross the Rhine

In this cup of mine.

Sip old Frankfort air

From my brown Cigar.

Winery Germany me?:”liebfrau milked I am

my glass brimmed to the rim!

with cheroot smoke me enwreathing

its like german air I'm breathing!

c. 1859 1945

124

Emily:”In lands I never saw - they say

Immortal Alps look down -

Whose Bonnets touch the firmament-

Whose Sandals touch the town -

Dreamy touristy Me?:”though to Europe I've never been

mont blanc is clear in my minds eye-

snowy head starry serene-

roots in alpine village lie-

Emily:”Meek at whose everlasting feet

A Myriad Daisy play -

Which, Sir, are you and which am I

Upon an August day?

Dreamy touristy Me?:”shyly at the mountains foot eternally

freyas flowers have frolics and fun -

master could these be me and thee

sharing the summer sun?

c. 1859 189z

125

Emily:”For each ecstatic instant

We must an anguish pay

In keen and quivering ratio

To the ecstasy.

Book-keepingly me?:”every moment sublime

creates an agonising debt

a book balancing time

for sublimity to offset

Emily:”For each beloved hour

Sharp pittances of years -

Bitter contested farthings-

And Coffers heaped with Tears!

book-keepingly me?:”for each amorous moment

creates torturous days ahead

time then will be ill spent

our treasure all turned to tearful lead!

c. 1859 189I

[ 58 ]

C 1859

126

Emily:”To fight aloud, is very brave

But gallanter, I know

Who charge within the bosom

The Cavalry of Woe-

Me Sadly soldierly?:”battling in the field is hard

but harder still for me

is the battle in my mind's backyard

wherefrom none can flee,

Emily:”Who Win, and nations do not see -

Who fall- and none observe -

Whose dying eyes, no Country

Regards with patriot love -

Me Sadly soldierly?:”victory will not appear on national stage

the victims none will view

for their demise none will rage

or even memorialise “the few”

Emily:”We trust, in plumed procession

For such, the Angels go -

Rang after Rank, with even feet

And Uniforms of Snow.

Me Sadly soldierly?:”but pale battalions may parade-

an angelic marching passed-

row upon row they swayed-

flags drooped at half mast.

127

Emily:”"Houses" - so the Wise Men tell me"

Mansions"! Mansions must be warm!

Mansions cannot let the tears In,

Mansions must exclude the storm!

Godspelly Doubtfully me?:”the preachers pretentious propose

that rooms in paradise needs be cosy

they must keep out snows

and keep our eternal life rosy!

Emily:”"Many mansions, "by "his Father, "

I don't know him; snugly built!

Could the Children find the way there -

Some, would even trudge tonight!

Godspelly Doubtfully me?:”the rooms in heaven wise men say

have marvellous insulation!

Some doubt if they could find their way

based on such dubious information!

128

Emily:”Bring me the sunset in a cup,

Reckon the morning's flagons up

And say how many Dew,

Tell me how far the morning leaps

Tell me what time the weaver sleeps

Who spun the breadths of blue

accountably me naturally?:”how many rays do a twilight make?

Or gallons in dawns lake?

count the flowers dew filled-

count the stars in the sky-

Count the hours spinner abed did lie

before a cloudy gossamer web he did build.

Emily:”I Write me how many notes there be

In the new Robin's ecstasy

Among astonished boughs -

How many trips the Tortoise makes

How many cups the Bee partakes,

The Debauchee of Dews!

accountably me naturally?:”count the semitones playing along

in birds springtime song

that enchanted the trees-

count the ways of the creator-

count the nips of sipped nectar

taken by the brazen bees!

Emily:”Also, who laid the Rainbow's piers,

Also, who leads the docile spheres

By withes of supple blue

Whose fingers string the stalactite -

Who counts the wampum of the night

To see that none is due?

accountably me naturally?:”how is irises arch suspended in the sky?

How are the placid planets moved

with flexible osiers led?

What sculptor icicles made-

whose purse the star-maker paid

to make sure we're not in the red?

Emily:”Who built this little Alban House

And shut the windows down so close

My spirit cannot see?

Who'll let me out some gala day

With implements to flyaway,

Passing Pomposity?

accountably me naturally?:”how was my little white homely shell

made like a monks cell-

keeping my sacred self blindfold

please remove my visionary chains

and let me explore other planes,

then I'll be bravely bold!

129

Emily:”Cocoon above! Cocoon below!

Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so

what all the world suspect?

An hour, and gay on every tree

Your secret, perched in ecstasy

Defies imprisonment!

Paintedly lady admirally me?:”I look for pupa's high and low

but pupa you're not on show

don't you see it's an open secret?

You your shell do fracture

flying free in wing flapping rapture-

You're free! Don't you fret!

Emily:”An hour in Chrysalis to pass,

Then gay above receding grass

A Butterfly to go

A moment to interrogate,

Then wiser than a "Surrogate,"

The Universe to know!

Paintedly lady admirally me?:”your great escape was only recent

so quick it seems indecent

that you're a painted lady off to a show

you flutter by in ill repute-

nobody's substitute

to no one you'll courtsey or bow!

1935

c. 1859

130

Emily:”These are the days when Birds come back -

A very few - a Bird or two -

To take a backward look.

vernally eternally recurrently me?:”now's the time migrators are again seen

some of them on their flighty return-

glance in askance astern.

Emily:”These are the days when skies resume

The old - old sophistries of June -

A blue and gold mistake.

vernally eternally recurrently me?:”now's the time light days hazy amaze

“It's summer-the day lasts longer!”

your words couldn't be wronger!

Emily:”Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee -

Almost thy plausibility

Induces my belief.

vernally eternally recurrently me?:”the disguised days don't fool drones-

your facade is convincing

my yearning evincing.

Emily:”Till ranks of seeds their witness bear -

And softly thro' the altered air

Hurries a timid leaf.

vernally eternally recurrently me?:”not until real growing starts

its bowery fragrance to expel

will the flowers bloom well

Emily:”Oh Sacrament of summer days,

Oh Last Communion in the Haze -

Permit a child to join.

vernally eternally recurrently me?:”the ritual of dog day afternoons

a holy service to Sirius's star

do not little me bar!

Emily:”Thy sacred emblems to partake -

Thy consecrated bread to take

And thine immortal wine!

vernally eternally recurrently me?:”let me religiously indulge-

fishes and loaves to sharing eat-

suppping Adams ale 'til I'm replete!

131

Emily:”Besides the Autumn poets sing

A few prosaic days

A little this side of the snow

And that side of the Haze -

Autumnally poetically me?:”accompanying the poets fall song

some calm time to enlist

before icy nights long

before dawns of cold mist

Emily:”A few incisive Mornings -

A few Ascetic Eves -

Gone- Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod"And

Mr Thomson's “sheaves"

Autumnally poetically me?:”some early days of rising

some spartanly twilit times-

no “death of the flowers” proselytizing

no “the Seasons” lusty rhymes

Emily:”Still, is the bustle in the Brook

Sealed are the spicy valves

Mesmeric fingers softly touch

The Eyes of many Elves -

Autumnally poetically me?:”quietened the streams singing

stopped are the fragrance vials

enchanted spells are caressing

the visions of sylvan isles-

Emily:”Perhaps a squirrel may remain -

My sentiments to share -

Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind-

Thy windy will to bear!

Autumnally poetically me?:”maybe a ground-hog will linger

my feelings to partake

I pray that I'll summer remember

so winter my will won't break!

. 1859 189 1

132

Emily:”I bring an unaccustomed wine

To lips long parching

Next to mine,

And summon them to drink,

Mullingly me winely?:”raising a flowing cup of glühwein

with some hesitation

to take a speculative sip,

I'm unsure of this libation ,

Emily:”Crackling with fever, they Essay,

I turn my brimmmg eyes away,

And come next hour to look.

mullingly me winely?:”i smell the concoction tentatively

wondering at my noses sensibility

then leave it for a while to cool

Emily:”The hands still hug the tardy glass~

The lips I would have cooled, alas -

Are so superfluous Cold-

mullingly me winely?:”I've still got the cup in my clasp

the aroma still makes me gasp

im still on this drink unsold-

Emily:”I would as soon attempt to warm

The bosoms where the frost has lain

Ages beneath the mould -

mullingly me winely?:”its as much use to wine heat

as to icy buds buried in peat-

after months try to revive-

Emily:”Some other thirsty there may be

To whom this would have pointed me

Had it remained to speak -

mullingly me winely?:”I could have spoken of this folly

if my mouth the stuff did not sully

rendering it unspeakably silent

Emily:”And so I always bear the cup

If, haply, mine may be the drop

Some pilgrim thirst to slake -

mullingly me winely?:”so I'll carry this near full glass

until the night doth pass

too polite to admit my distaste

Emily:”If, haply, any say to me

"Unto the little, unto me,"

When I at last awake.

mullingly me winely?:”if they quote biblically

Matthews little children accusingly-

I hope its all a bad smelling dream!

c. 1859 189 1

133

Emily:”As Children bid the Guest "Good Night"

And then reluctant turn -

My flowers raise their pretty lips-

Then put their nightgowns on

Florally me maternally?:”offspring to visitors say “farewell”

and to unwilling sleep do go

my blossoms send regards as well

preparing tomorrows nectar to flow

Emily:”As children caper when they wake

Merry that it is Mom -

My flowers from a hundred cribs

Will peep, and prance again.

Florally me maternally?:”offspring play when they arise

giving maternal pleasures-

from their garden beds-surprise!

my blooms will frolic with the zephyrs.

1859 1890

134

Emily:”Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower,

But I could never sell -

florally lendingly me?:”you ask if a bloom you could purchase

I couldn't myself so abase-

Emily:”If you would like to borrow,

Until the Daffodil

Unties her yellow Bonnet

Beneath the village door,

Until the Bees, from Clover rows

Their Hock, and Sherry, draw,

florally lendingly me?:”but if it's just a floral loan

for the time it takes-

for Jonquil to come into her own

in the fields new sown.

for the time it takes

for nectar to be sipped by a drone

Emily:”Why, I will lend until just then,

But not an hour more!

florally lendingly me?:”i shall to you that loan make

but the interest will make you groan!

c. z859 z890

135

Emily:”Water, is taught by thirst.

Land - by the Oceans passed.

Transport - by throe -

Peace - by its battles told-

Love, by Memorial Mold -

Birds, by the Snow.

Definedly me?: adams ale is defined by drought-

travel by timetable doubt -

earth by the seven seas-

life by death-

joy by Macbeth-

health by terminal disease.

c. 1859 z896

136

Emily:”Have you got a Brook in your little heart,

Where bashful flowers blow,

And blushing birds go down to drink,

And shadows tremble so -

Streamily consciously me?:”is there a running through you a rill,

with banks beautiful abloom,

there the beaks take their fill,

there sparkling is the spume-

Emily:”And nobody knows, so still it flows,

That any brook is there,

And yet your little draught of life

Is daily drunken there -

Streamily consciously me?:”this stream is mine alone

no one knows it but me

there is my peaceful zone

there I am fancy free-

Emily:”Why, look out for the little brook in March,

When the rivers overflow,

And the snows come hurrying from the hills,

And the bridges often go -

Streamily consciously me?:”i visit this burgeoning burn in spring

a flooding in my heart,

then the meltwater torrential falling,

then my weirs may fall apart

Emily:”And later, in August It may be -

When the meadows parching be,

Beware, lest this little brook of life,

Some burning noon go dry!

Streamily consciously me?:”when summer comes perspiringly

the earth is as dry as a desert

then of your rill's health watchful be

of my revealed bed introvert!

137

Emily:”Flowers - Well - if anybody

Can the ecstasy define -

Half a transport - half a trouble -

With which flowers humble men:

naturally me inferiority?:”of floral experts I enquire-

who can my delight in bloom explain-

it only takes one petal of fire

to show who over men doth reign:

Emily:”Anybody find the fountain

From which floods so contra flow -

I will give him all the Daisies

Which upon the hillside blow.

naturally me inferiority?:”if anyone can find the source

of my joy in the universe sublime-

I'll fill all his vases perforce-

with forests of columbine.

Emily:”Too much pathos in their faces

For a simple breast like mine -

Butterflies from St. Domingo

Cruising round the purple line -

Have a system of aesthetics -

Far superior to mine.

naturally me inferiority?:”eyeing the poignant painted ladies flight

and my joy rapturously overspills

they come from islands bright

then feed on nectar to the gills

they have the seers sight-

I'll just keep taking the pills!

138

Emily:”Pigmy seraphs - gone astray -

Velvet people from Vevay-

Belles from some lost summer day -

Bees exclusive Coterie -

royalty jelly me?:”tiny angels about me fly

black and gold they wear

upon serene zephyrs pass by

royal jelly they bear-

Emily:”Pans could not lay the fold

Belted down with Emerald -

Venice could not show a cheek

Of a tint so lustrous meek-

royalty jelly me?:”fauns are not that fecund

by the bee they're outgunned-

Eldorado's piles of money

are nothing compared to honey-

Emily:”Never such an Ambuscade

As of briar and leaf displayed

For my little damask maid -

royalty jelly me?:”the show that an ambush made

a trap of flowery fragrance laid

so my nectar collector waylaid-

Emily:”I had rather wear her grace

Than an Earl's distinguished face-

I had rather dwell like her

Than be "Duke of Exeter" -

royalty jelly me?:”she is more valuable to me

than any nobleman's wealth be

I'd prefer a house made of propolis

to a mansion in a metropolis

Emily:”Royalty enough for me

To subdue the Bumblebee.

royalty jelly me?:”its a crowning glory unsurpassed

to seduce nectar collector at last.

c. z859 1891

139

Emily:”Soul, Wilt thou toss again?

By Just such a hazard

Hundreds have lost indeed -

But tens have won an all-

chancily heavenly me?:”gods heads or devils tails?

Where will I land?

There are many wins and Many fails

all down to fate's cruel hand-

Emily:”Angel's breathless ballot

Lingers to record thee -

Imps in eager Caucus

Raffle for my Soul!

chancily heavenly me?:”this is a slippery poll

to capture us all

in some random voting hall-

hoping to miss the black ball!

c. 1859 1890

I40

Emily:”An altered look about the hills -

A Tyrian light the village fills-

A wider sunrise in the morn -

A deeper twilight on the lawn-

Naturally Questioningly me?:”tricks of light over the tor plays-

the hamlet's lit by Levantine rays-

the dawn exploded universe wide

the creepy gloaming at eventide

Emily:”A print of a vermilion foot -

A purple finger on the slope -

A flippant fly upon the pane -

A spider at his trade again -

Naturally Questioningly me?:”the path of red shod creature shown

the digital flowers in violet gown-

the bluebottle buzzes on glass-

the arachnid won't let him pass!

Emily:”An added strut in Chanticleer -

A flower expected everywhere -

An axe shrill Singing In the woods -

Fern odors on untravelled roads

Naturally Questioningly me?:”the step of bird is cocksure

the blooms are never impure-

the woodman has a melodic saw-

paths I know that I never took before

Emily:”All this and more I cannot tell -

A furtive look you know as well

And Nicodemus' Mystery

Receives its annual reply!

Naturally Questioningly me?:”these are among the mysteries of life

they're multiplying in my mind rife

to these Rabbi's eternal questions-

there are no easy as pi solutions!

141

Emily:”Some, too fragile for Winter winds

The thoughtful grave encloses -

Tenderly tucking them In from frost

Before their feet are cold.

Early arrivederci me?:”the weak by icy cold are blown away

by considerate earth embraced

under the frozen ground they lay

such a sad waste.

Emily:”Never the treasures in her nest

The cautious grave exposes,

Building where schoolboy dare not look,

And sportsman is not bold.

Early arrivederci me?:”the eggs she laid are precious-

she protects them with her breast-

hiding them from eyes curious-

she knows what is best.

Emily:”The covert have all the children

Early aged, and often cold,

Sparrows, unnoticed by the Father -

Lambs for whom time had not a fold.

early arrivederci me?:”but there are some too weak and feeble-

some too small to survive-

they nest fallen no longer warble-

no chance they had to thrive.

142-

Emily:”Whose are the little beds, I asked

Which in the valleys lie?

Some shook their heads, and others smiled

And no one made reply.

Expertly Botanically me?:”who owns flowery field, I ventured

that sits by this bonnie burn?

Some were blank, the rest just coloured-

none did an answer return.

Emily:”Perhaps they did not hear, I said,

I will inquire again -

Whose are the beds - the tiny beds

So thick upon the plain?

Expertly Botanically me?:”maybe you weren't listening, I remarked

I'll restate my query-

who owns the burn-side blooms

in the meadow so bright and cheery?

Emily:”'Tis Daisy, in the shortest -

A little further on -

Nearest the door - to wake the rest

Little Leontodon.

Expertly Botanically me?:”here are freyas flowers, they're weeist

just a bit ahead of me

by the gate they exist

near a hawkbit makes free

Emily:”'Tis Iris, Sir, and Aster

Anemone, and Bell -

Bartsia, in the blanket red -

And chubby Daffodil.

Expertly Botanically me?:”its a rainbow and starry bosom just there

and there a campunella wind sown

the red herb Bartsia does stare

narcissus looks after its own!

Emily:”Meanwhile, at many cradles

Her busy foot she plied -

Humming the quaintest lullaby

That ever rocked a child.

Expertly Botanically me?:”now nature's weaving the seeds fresh-

her sowing is worldwide-

sweet harmonies do our hearts enmesh,

like a renewing crimson tide.

Emily:”Hush! Epigea wakens!

The Crocus stirs her lids -

Rhodora's cheek is crimson,

She's dreaming of the woods!

Expertly Botanically me?:”the mayflower stirs from sleep

the iris waves her banner

azalea is embarrassed as we peep

we're blessed thus by nature's manna

Emily:”Then turning from them reverent -

Their bedtime 'tis, she said-

The Bumble bees Will wake them

When April woods are red.

Expertly Botanically Emily me?:”her show our flowery fire did douse

as she sent them off for beauty sleeps-

a buzzing alarm will them rouse

when spring again from her leaps!

143

Emily:”For every Bird a Nest

Wherefore in timid quest

Some little Wren goes seeking round-

Nestingly interestingly me?:”our feathered friends need a home

thus they the trees do comb-

so searching Re-Re's the branches roam

Emily:”Wherefore when boughs are free -

Households in every tree -

Pilgrim be found?

Nestingly interestingly me?:” why is it when there are empty places

in every arboreal palace

Re-Re can't be seen?

Emily:”Perhaps a home too high -

Ah Aristocracy!

The little Wren desires -

Nestingly interestingly me?:”maybe some don't catch her eye

as the palace's too high!

For Re-Re to happily lie-

Emily:”Perhaps of twig so fine -

Of twine e'en superfine,

Her pride aspires -

Nestingly interestingly me?:”maybe she wants a branch of filigree

“its got to be just right you see”

Re-Re might well agree-

Emily:”The Lark is not ashamed

To build upon the ground

Her modest house -

Nestingly interestingly me?:”the “Blithe Spirit” so choosy is not,

as long as she's an earthy nest got

for her eggs a homely spot!

Emily:”Yet who of all the throng

Dancing around the sun

Does so rejoice?

Nestingly interestingly me?:”then she soars in auroras sight

singing airs marvellously light

raising us all to ethereal height!

c. 1859 1929

144

Emily:”She bore It till the simple veins

Traced azure on her hand -

Till pleading, round her quiet eyes

The purple Crayons stand.

Departingly Sadly me?:”her illness she bravely faced

while she gradually did fade

her body with pain laced

her placid look slowly glazed.

Emily:”Till Daffodils had come and gone

I cannot tell the sum,

And then she ceased to bear It -

And with the Saints sat down.

Departingly Sadly me?:”several months and flowers had departed

of the true time I'm not sure,

her walls of courage slowly parted

she knew that there was no cure

Emily:”No more her patient figure

At twilight soft to meet -

No more her timid bonnet

Upon the village street-

Departingly Sadly me?:”now I'll her graciousness

never be able to greet

never hear her voice timorous

whenever we did share a seat.

Emily:”But Crowns instead, and Courtiers -

And in the midst so fair,

Whose but her shy - immortal face

Of whom we're whispering here?

Departingly Sadly me?:”now beyond the gates of time

now beyond the pain she bore-

do we talk of her grace sublime-

so sad that we'll see her no more?

1859 1935

145

Emily:”This heart that broke so long -

These feet that never flagged -

This faith that watched for star in vain,

Give gently to the dead -

brokenly heartedly me?:”a lost love many years gone-

a life still lived with grace

a belief that watched alone

still giving praise

Emily:”Hound cannot overtake the Hare

That fluttered panting, here -

Nor any schoolboy rob the nest

Tenderness builded there.

brokenly heartedly me?:”a heart that will never heal-

a fleeting beating love sincere-

a robber could not steal

this memory that I revere.

1859 1935

146

Emily:”On such a night, or such a night,

Would anybody care

If such a little figure

Slipped quiet from its chair -

timely untimely deathly me:?:”would it matter if in dark it did occur,

would it matter if noticed it was,

that a wee being did not stir

and finally fell without cause-

Emily:”So quiet - Oh how quiet,

That nobody might know

But that the little figure

Rocked softer - to and fro -

timely untimely deathly me:?:”no noise did we hear

silently we were bereft

what we saw did not fill us fear

a passive nodding right to left

Emily:”On such a dawn, or such a dawn -

Would anybody sigh

That such a little figure

Too sound asleep did lie

timely untimely deathly me:?:” would it matter if in light it did occur

would it matter if grief was not shown

that a wee being did not stir

sleeping in like a cold stone.

Emily:”For Chanticleer to wake it -

Or stirring house below -

Or giddy bird in orchard -

Or early task to do?

timely untimely deathly me:?:”not even cocks cry could wee'un arouse

nor the noise of others waking-

nor the crazy dawn chorus-

nor the mornings undertaking?

Emily:”There was a little figure plump

For every little knoll -

Busy needles, and spools of thread -

And trudging feet from school-

timely untimely deathly me:?:”wee being rotund could be seen

under each grassy mound-

they once spun solaces silk serene-

now they're bound for the ground-

Emily:”Playmates, and holidays, and nuts -

And visions vast and small-

Strange that the feet so precious charged

Should reach so small a goal!

timely untimely deathly me:?:”fun and frolics in the sun

memories massive and wee

its mysterious how lives are run-

to end so small but so free!

c. 1859 1891

147

Emily:”Bless God, he went as soldiers,

His musket on his breast -

Grant God, he charge the brave~t

Of all the martial blest!

Soldierly Me? a Christian soldier-onward him to fight

his flintlock is primed to fire

does god give him the right

to himself and others expire!

Emily:”Please God, mIght I behold him

In epauletted white -

I should not fear the foe then -

I should not fear the fight!

Soldierly Me?:”god willing I'll see him parade

in a uniform clear of gore-

I'll quell my dread of enemies raid-

I'll quell my dread of the dogs of war!

148

Emily:”All overgrown by cunning moss,

All interspersed with weed,

The little cage of "Currer Bell"

In quiet "Haworth" laid.

Brontely me?:”upon a moor weather worn

a parsonage overgrown stands

where Jane Eyre was born

she's famous in many lands

Emily:”Gathered from many wanderings

Gethsemane can tell

Thro' what transporting anguish

She reached the Asphodel!

Brontely me?:”Jane arose from an intellect smart

clearly by Erato blessed

the author of her agony suffered for her art

it must be confessed!

Emily:”Soft fall the sounds of Eden

Upon her puzzled ear -

Oh what an afternoon for Heaven,

When "Bronte" entered there!

Brontely me?:”Jane's creator now with Apollo doth sit

the hands of gods do hers shake-

the inspiring muses eyes with pleasure lit-

when on parnassus's slope she doth wake!

149

Emily:”She went as quiet as the Dew

From an Accustomed flower.

Not like the Dew, did she return

At the Accustomed hour!

Windowy seeingly me?:”She left silent as condensation

from her usual place

she came back a sensation

at the usual time!

Emily:”She dropt as softly as a star

From out my summer's Eve

Less skilful than Le Verriere

It's sorer to believe!

Her fall was aglow astrally-

from twilit dog days grace -

not a stained glass story-

more painfully to embrace!

c. 1859

c. z859

150

Emily:”She died - this was the way she died.

And when her breath was done

Took up her simple wardrobe

And started for the sun

Seraphically deathly discovery me?:”she passed away, this way she passed

as she expired her last breath

she shed her life at last

and flew to a twilit death

Emily:”Her little figure at the gate

The Angels must have spied,

Since I could never find her

Upon the mortal side.

Seraphically deathly discovery me?:”it was a passing away routine

seraphs must have had a view-

she not to be here seen

as she to other side flew

151

Emily:”Mute thy Coronation

Meek my Vive le roi,

Fold a tiny courtier

In thine Ermine, Sir,

Masterly me Dreamily?:”you ask me to forget the crown

but you'd like me as your king

I will embrace you as mine own

if thats to your liking!

Emily:”There to rest revering

Till the pageant by,

I can murmur broken,

Master, It was 1-

Masterly me Dreamily?:”You may try put out my flame

and let me pass by

but I don't feel the same

I'd love to with you lie!

Afterword:

We've come to the end of 1859 of my trip through recycling Emily Dickinson s poetry. Its been a year of growth for her, working through her verse it can be seen that she is becoming more experimentally aware of her abilities. She is more sure in an appealing self-deprecatory way. Her subjectile she approaches with a widening palette of multicoloured description. Her world she more carefully paints, but hers is a post impressionist approach, a kind of verbal pointillism is evident which I find attractive to imagine. The thaumaturgy of her work is also becoming more evident. I don't think she would have fared well at a Salem trial, as she has a magical soul, attuned beautifully to her own multifaceted, well read, universe. Her truth is thus diamond like, is in aspect a Menger sponge manifold soaking up all her perspectives and laser like focusing them without dangerous polarisation. She is gradually becoming a superposed poet, showing an ability to be in doubt and uncertainty, without irritatlingly reaching after fact and reason. Its a wonderful experience to share and respond to her handsome candlelit workmanship. I am falling more helplessly, more deeply into this remarkable woman.

For Amherst, her home town, the most important event was the first inter collegiate baseball game between Amherst and Williams Colleges. I doubt if Emily had much time for such shenanigans. But I'm sure she would have known, as she kept up with her greedy reading of all types from local and national newspapers to the Bible, Shakespeare and Emerson.

I bet Emily would have found such events amusing, compared to the dire events unfolding at this time that would lead to the civil war. John Brown's failed abolitionist rebellion at Harpers Ferry of course occurred in October of 1859. She, very probably, agreed with the sentiments of this anti separatist, anti racist movement. Though not, perhaps, the violent methods Brown chose to further the ends of the movement. I now look forward to part three of my peripatetic poetic trip with Emily, through 1860 odes.

Day Dreama July 2023.

Page updated

Google Sites

Report abuse