I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells —

I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells —
Deep dug — for Summer days —
Where Mosses go no more away —
And Pebble — safely plays —

It's made of Fathoms — and a Belt —
A Belt of jagged Stone —
Inlaid with Emerald — half way down —
And Diamonds — jumbled on —

It has no Bucket — Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy —
I'm often thirsty — but my lips
Are so high up — You see —

I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People "thirst no more" —
The Wells have Buckets to them there —
It must mean that — I'm sure —

Shall We remember Parching — then?
Those Waters sound so grand —
I think a little Well — like Mine —
Dearer to understand —

   -J460, F695, fascicle 32



Okay, I’m typing this commentary as I read this poem for the first time, line by line, trying to capture the way we wrestle with the riddle of the poem as we go. It’s an experiment, and I’m hoping it will shed some light onto the process.

I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells —

Hmm, where do wells “grow”? How would they grow? We must be talking about something besides an actual well? Something living if it is growing, living water. And it is droughtless, eternally fresh. Eternal living water, sounds biblical. Like a soul? I imagine wells welling up, growing, like underground wombs. 

I hear an echo of Shakespeare here, from Midsummer Night’s Dream: “I know where the wild thyme blows.” Sounds like a possible inspiration for, "I know where wells grow."

Deep dug — for Summer days —

Deep dug. Ooh, I dig the sound of that. We already have delicious sound play with the quintuple Ws in the first line. The D of Droughtless in that first line sets up the percussive double D of Deep Dug in the second.

So if Well here equals eternal living water, what does “Summer Days” equal? Normally Summer is something longed for. But here it means, perhaps, the opposite; heat, drought. Wells are for quenching thirst, which we might especially need on a very hot summer day. So if Wells equal, say, spiritual sustenance, then summer day would be those days….lost in doubt? I’m not sure. Let’s see where she goes with this.

Where Mosses go no more away —

Mosses go no more away? The riddle continues. This goes along with the “Droughtless” in line one. This is some kind of eternal water, like the kind found in the New Testament. Let’s look up the bible verse. Ok, after a quick internet search I find a verse concerning the promise Jesus made to the woman of Samaria, ‘But whosoever drinketh of the water I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into eternal life.’ (John 4:14)

There you have it. Okay, so far we have a spiritual well. Although there is a small, but possibly important difference, because the wells are multiple here. These "wells" are dug deep for summer, but also reach beyond summer, because the mosses don't go away. Oh, and they are growing. 

And Pebble — safely plays —

If the moss stays, so does the pebble. How would a pebble be playing? Is it playing in the water? I can imagine a pebble playing in a river, but in a well it's harder to imagine. Maybe it is meant to invoke a child dropping a pebble in the well. I like the introduction to play here. Playfulness is part of this Well-scape. The pebble also “safely” plays. That’s a solid adjective, safely. It makes you think of all that is not safe play, the kind of play that is dangerous. 

It's made of Fathoms — and a Belt —

This sounds like a great riddle. What is made of fathoms and has a belt? A well has two parts making it up, Fathoms and a Belt. So much resonance and depth in the word "Fathoms". We can't fathom the depth of this well. And there's plenty of symbolic possibility in the word Belt too. But what is the belt? Is a belt the rope pulley to haul up the water? Hmm.

A Belt of jagged Stone —

A Belt of jagged Stone? Nope, not a rope belt to pull up a bucket. Ohhh, I see, Dickinson meant “belt” as in the cylindrical ring of rocks that hold in the Fathoms of the well. The wall of the well is the belt around the water.

Inlaid with Emerald — half way down —

That's pretty. Jagged stone belt inlaid with emerald half way down. Is that emerald meant to be the color of the water which you can see half way down?

And Diamonds — jumbled on —

Are the "Diamonds jumbled on" a little bit of sunlight that has somehow penetrated half way down the well? (It must be close to noon on this summer day, the hottest time of day.) A jagged stone belt inlaid with emeralds with diamonds jumbled on? That’s very pretty, Emily.

It has no Bucket — Were I rich

Ah, no water for the poet though. These wells, though Emily knows where they grow, are not able to give sustenance for her spiritual thirst. She’s not “rich” enough. (Reminded here of F687, in which the poet did not have enough to give the Merchant for the one thing she truly desired.)  What does it mean to be rich enough to drink eternal living water? Is it meant sincerely, like in past poems when Dickinson wishes she could simply have faith? Or maybe the "rich" thing is meant to be ironic? Like, it’s only wealthy people who can afford to go to heaven?

A Bucket I would buy —

What does it mean to be rich enough to buy a bucket? A very good question. If it’s not money you possess, it might be faith? It's strange to think of faith as something you can buy though. This is worth pondering further.

I'm often thirsty — but my lips

Are so high up — You see —

The poet's lips are high up. What is she getting at there?  "My lips are so high up, you see" No, Emily, I don’t see. You are thirsty because you are so…elevated? You are closer to the sun? You are in the romance and drama of summer? You are so high up because you are a genius? Because your lips, your mouth, create elevated words? But what does that have to do with thirst? You are too high up, too arrogant, not humble enough, not down to earth enough? Hmm. I'm not sure. Let's see where the poem goes.

I read in an Old fashioned Book

That People "thirst no more" —

Okay, the old fashioned book is the Bible right, and the “thirst no more” is a reference to John 4:14. I also hear another echo of Shakespeare here, from Macbeth: “Sleep no more!” That might be a stretch, but it’s a pretty famous line from a famous play, so maybe.

The Wells have Buckets to them there —

Okay, the Wells in heaven have buckets. You can get sustenance from them. What are these buckets?

It must mean that — I'm sure —

“I’m sure.” You could punctuate this as: “It must mean THAT, I’m sure.” But you can also punctuate it: “It must mean that I’m SURE.” That way of punctuating makes this line about certainty. So to connect the dots, perhaps a bucket would be a symbol of faith? Emily doesn’t have that kind of bucket. She often bemoans her lack of certainty and faith in her poems. To have faith is to have a bucket, is to be sure. Is Emily playing with the idea of faith here?

Shall We remember Parching — then?

Those Waters sound so grand —

When we get to heaven, will we remember what it is like to be thirsty? The poem before this one speaks of Heaven relying on Hell, says that we need teeth defacing our peace to vitalize grace. So maybe Emily is saying we need thirst. “Those Waters sound so grand.” That sounds sarcastic to me. And notice that “grand” is not capitalized. Perhaps it is not so very grand. Perhaps it is better to be parched, so that we may appreciate water? And perhaps it is better for the mosses to go away, so we may appreciate the renewal of spring?

I think a little Well — like Mine —

Okay, a little Well like Emily’s. What is this Well? We can speculate. An ink well? That would be clever. Or if not her ink well, at least poetry? Perhaps she is speaking of a lover. Sue? Wadsworth? Or is the little Well herself? 

Dearer to understand —

Ooh, a twist. Dearer could be read a couple ways. "Dearer" in the 1800s would have commonly meant “more expensive”. In this case it would be saying that my own little well is more expensive to understand.  The idea of “dearer” hearkens back to “rich” earlier in the poem. If I were rich, a bucket I would buy. But here it might mean something beyond that kind of richness, something dearer. It is more difficult to understand this kind of Well, more expensive, perhaps better. 

To track back to the earlier question of why the poet's lips are so high up: Are they so high up because the air is dearer up there? Those lips after all, have to deal with parching, and winter. That gets expensive, but Dickinson doesn't mind the price. She's not rich enough to "buy" the bucket needed for heavenly sustenance, but she she's willing to pay the dearer price of her "little Well". This would appear to be a paradox, but you realize Dickinson is speaking of two different modes of economy. 

But “Dearer” can also, of course, mean beloved, as in “my dear”. My little Well is dearer to understand than God's, which is to say, I understand the dearness of it better. (Like in F688, when ED speaks of the dying man’s mind being more on “home” than on “heaven”, more on the known than the unknown.)

Brava, Emily. I’m exhausted, having riddled through another deep well-spring of your mind and eternal spirit, but also...quenched.

I think this poem is saying something like: my lover, or maybe my poetry, means more to me than the Wells of the eternal water offered by Christ, though it is more difficult (expensive) in the end. Emily trusts the here and now, the solid earth rather than the abstract heavens, even if it means extreme thirst, and maybe even BECAUSE it involves extreme thirst.

What I’m left with though, what I’ll take with me in my memory, is that beautiful image of fathoms held together by a jagged stone belt with emeralds inlaid half way down and diamonds jumbled on. 

-/)dam Wade l)eGraff