Her
Bodice rose and fell –
Her
pretty speech – like drunken men –
Did
stagger pitiful –
Her
fingers fumbled at her work –
Her
needle would not go –
What
ailed so smart a little Maid –
It
puzzled me to know –
Till
opposite – I spied a cheek
That
bore another Rose –
Just
opposite – Another speech
That
like the Drunkard goes –
A
Vest that like her Bodice, danced –
To
the immortal tune –
Till
those two troubled – little Clocks
Ticked
softly into one.
-
F200 (1861) 208
A pair of Victorian clocks |
Ah,
we’ve all seen the lovers among us. The blushing cheeks, the sharpened breath,
the stammering inability to put together a coherent sentence – all dead
giveaways. The poet here is a sly observer watching a young couple. The “smart”
young woman keeps messing up her embroidery and her normal “pretty speech”
sounds as if she’s put down a few two many elderberry wines. The young man is
in no better shape: he, too, sounds as if he’s been belting down a few
brandies. His vest and her bodice are dancing “to the immortal tune” of love as
they breathe more quickly and deeply than usual. But then something clicks and
the two “little Clocks / ticked softly into one.” It’s a lovely closing image:
two clocks ticking a little off kilter but then finally in synch. Dickinson
inserts the word “softly” here and it makes everything right. The couple is
meant for each other, their internal workings effortlessly blend into one, just
as the two will blend as one when they marry.
This
pretty poem is full of movement as if it, too, dances “To the immortal tune.”
The rose capers, the girl’s dress rises and falls while the boy’s vest dances.
Her speech staggers and her fingers fumble. Even the clocks image implies a
cheerful movement even as the two tick into one.
Dickinson
writes in tradition ballad or hymn form: four line stanzas with alternating
iambic tetrameter and trimeter lines and the second and fourth lines rhyming.
A rose capering on a cheek is a very interesting imagery. I wonder if there's any more subtext to that, or does it only smybolise the rose-coloured blush on their cheeks.
ReplyDeleteI'd love to have you expand on your thoughts on this!
DeleteFirst love, immortal tune, ticking softly into one, could anyone sing lovelier than this?
ReplyDelete