So much Summer

So much Summer
Me for showing
Illegitimate –
Would a Smile’s minute bestowing
Too exorbitant

To the Lady
With the Guinea
Look – if she should know
Crumb of Mine
A Robin’s Larder
Would suffice to stow –

    Fr761, J651, Fascicle 34, 1863

This kind of poem is not likely to capture many readers because its syntax is too difficult to follow. But the difficulty does intrigue, which, if you are a certain kind of reader, pulls you into the puzzle, and therefore, the poem. The more pulled in you get, the more moved you may be. This puzzle need only capture one reader. The original captive was likely meant to be Dickinson's sister-in-law, and usually the first reader of Emily's poems, Sue. But the newest one to be captivated is…me, and, perhaps, now, you too.

If we step back and try to get a general feel for this poem we can see that it appears to touch on the common Dickinsonian theme of putting your store of modest wealth in nature, here represented as a crumb that suffices for a robin. This modest wealth is greater than monetary wealth, the “guinea” of the lady. The illegitimate smile from the poet is compared to a crumb containing "so much summer" that it may be stored by the robin in winter. That’s how I read the syntax. If you write it out as a complete sentence you can get a better sense of it:

“So much summer, me for showing, illegitimate, would a smile’s minute bestowing too exorbitant to the Lady With the Guinea look if she should know crumb of mine, a robin’s larder would suffice to stow."

It's a tricky sentence because the final phrase, "a robin's larder would suffice to stow" follows from the first, "So much summer," and the rest of the thought is sandwiched between. "So much summer...a robin's larder would suffice to stow." It's also tricky because of the inversion of some of the clauses, "would a smile's minute bestowing too exorbitant to the Lady with the guinea look,"for instance, instead of the much simpler, "would look to the Lady with the guinea like a minute smile too exorbitant to bestow."

Re-worded, the thought goes something like this: "The bestowing of a smile would be too exorbitant for the lady with the guinea (money), like a crumb that a robin stows in its larder for winter is, as if there was so much summer in that smile that there is still some left over for when it is needed later."

Once we unpack the syntax we arrive at a very sweet thought. An illegitimate smile from me, the poet says, would allow extra sustenance for you later, like a stored crumb in a larder would give an illegitimate bit of extra summer to a robin when winter kicks in.

Dickinson frames this thought in a trochaic rhythm. Why? I think it is to put an extra emphasis on the opening syllables, on that “SO much,” and that “ME for,” and on “TOO exorbitant,” and “LOOK if,” and “CRUMB of,” and “WOULD suffice.” She uses rhythm for emphasis wonderfully. 

And what is the purpose of the difficult syntax? One reason, I think, is fun. It’s part of the “smile.” At least it made me smile, this winter, some hundred and sixty years later, stored as it is in the larder of poems.

    -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Notes:

1. The word “illegitimate” raises an eyebrow. Is this an illegitimate affair we’re talking about here, as David Preest has suggested, or even a reference to an illegitimate child, as Lawrence Barden has intimated? My guess is that this poem is for Sue, with which I believe Emily did have a kind of illegitimate (illegitimate in a not-legally-wed kind of way) relationship. Part of the reason for the tricky syntax may well have been to evade the prying eyes of her family, a kind of secret code. The wonder is that Dickinson could write for both the private sphere and the public at the same time. This poem leans more toward the private, but I still think there is a crumb in it for you and me.

2. To add to this intriguing idea of a secret code, we see that Dickinson has paired Robins and Guineas together before, way back in one of her earliest poems, Fr12. Is Guinea a code word? Could it be a pun here, a reference to a guinea hen? Did Sue, or some other friend of Emily's, have a guinea hen? They were popular in the 1800s in America. We can’t know anything for sure, but we can have fun trying to follow the crumbs.

Pain — has an Element of Blank—

Pain — has an Element of Blank—

It cannot recollect

When it begun or if there were

A time when it was not —

It has no Future — but itself—
Its Infinite contain
Its Past — enlightened to perceive
New Periods — of Pain.


    -Fr760, J650, Fascicle 34, 1863


Dear reader,

For this poem, we would love to hear what it personally means to you.

It would be instructive to have a chorus of voices for this one. 

Afterward, check out the edifying commentaries by William Styron and BookishNerDan in the notes below. 

Affy,

/)dam Wade l)eGraff

notes:

1. There is an Emily Dickinson blog I love to read by a guy that goes by BookishNerDan. His take on this poem is brilliant. It really gets down to something essential about consciousness itself. Go here to read. It might help.  

2. This bit, from the great William Styron, in Lapham's Quarterly, is instructive too. (R.I.P. Lewis Lapham)

Darkness Visible,

1985

In depression a faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come—not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute. If there is mild relief, one knows that it is only temporary; more pain will follow. It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul. So the decision making of daily life involves not, as in normal affairs, shifting from one annoying situation to another less annoying—or from discomfort to relative comfort, or from boredom to activity—but moving from pain to pain. One does not abandon, even briefly, one’s bed of nails, but is attached to it wherever one goes. And this results in a striking experience—one which I have called, borrowing military terminology, the situation of the walking wounded. For in virtually any other serious sickness, a patient who felt similar devastation would be lying flat in bed, possibly sedated and hooked up to the tubes and wires of life-support systems, but at the very least in a posture of repose and in an isolated setting. His invalidism would be necessary, unquestioned, and honorably attained. However, the sufferer from depression has no such option and therefore finds himself, like a walking casualty of war, thrust into the most intolerable social and family situations. There he must, despite the anguish devouring his brain, present a face approximating the one that is associated with ordinary events and companionship. He must try to utter small talk, and be responsive to questions, and knowingly nod and frown and, God help him, even smile. But it is a fierce trial attempting to speak a few simple words.

Her Sweet turn to leave the Homestead

Her Sweet turn to leave the Homestead
Came the Darker Way—
Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too—
But for Holiday

’Tis more pitiful Endeavor
Than did Loaded Sea
O’er the Curls attempt to caper
It had cast away—

Never Bride had such Assembling—
Never kinsmen kneeled
To salute so fair a Forehead—
Garland be indeed—

Fitter Feet—of Her before us—
Than whatever Brow
Art of Snow—or Trick of Lily
Possibly bestow

Of Her Father—Whoso ask Her—
He shall seek as high
As the Palm—that serve the Desert—
To obtain the Sky—

Distance—be Her only Motion—
If ’tis Nay—or Yes—
Acquiescence—or Demurral—
Whosoever guess—

He—must pass the Crystal Angle
That obscure Her face—
He—must have achieved in person
Equal Paradise—


     -F759, J649, Fascicle 34, 1863


In this poem it is as if Dickinson is taking the two faces of drama, tragedy and comedy, and fusing them together as one. It is a comedy that takes a dark turn into tragedy, or, conversely, a tragedy sweetly dressed up as a comedy.

Her Sweet turn to leave the Homestead

The first line, because of the adjective "Sweet," leads you to expect a wedding story, but the expectation is overturned in the very next line,

Came the Darker Way—

Whoa, what happened? What is this "Darker Way" to leave the Homestead? We suspect the worse, and we get our first supporting clue in the next line,

Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too—

Carriages come for weddings. But also for…funerals. Guests too.

But for Holiday

’Tis more pitiful Endeavor
Than did Loaded Sea
O’er the Curls attempt to caper
It had cast away—

These guests and carriages are here for an occasion, but it is no holiday. You might endeavor to turn this into a holiday, but the attempt would be pitiful, since it's as impossible to make this a happy occasion as would be for the "Loaded Sea" to attempt to caper (skip and dance) over the top of the very waves it was casting to shore. That image is poignant. The ocean is ready to let go of the wave, here a representation of the self, which has already “capered” to shore. The heavy sea is ready to sink back into itself. ("Called back" are the words Dickinson had inscribed on her gravestone.)

I love how the third line of this stanza capers in its very sound. You can hear it in that O’e r/ curl/ caper rhyme and in the alliteration.

And how about that adjective "Loaded?" That adjective is, itself, very loaded, isn't it?

Never Bride had such Assembling—
Never kinsmen kneeled
To salute so fair a Forehead—
Garland be indeed—

That first line puts one in mind of the bride of Frankenstein, as if the bride had been assembled in parts. But Dickinson just means here that people have assembled at the funeral. The kinsmen, the family, are kneeling at the grave, to salute the young beautiful corpse.

Garland be indeed—

Fitter Feet—of Her before us—
Than whatever Brow
Art of Snow—or Trick of Lily
Possibly bestow

These lines are tricky. I kept reading them over and over again and thinking I had it but then something in the syntax fell apart. (The garland is Fitter for her Feet than for her Forehead? The Feet are Fitter than the Brow bestowed by art of snow or trick of lily? Does Brow refer back to Forehead here? or does it mean hill, another definition of brow, as in a funeral mound?) My best guess here is that there is a garland of flowers placed by loved ones over the head of the casket, or grave. The garland is fitter for the feet of this woman than whatever the beauty of the snow, or trick of the lily could bestow upon her brow. A stanza like this makes me slow down. I want to move on to the rest of the poem, but I'm stuck here, trying to crack the riddle to get to the truth I sense is just under the surface.

And eventually I do see something extraordinary stemming from the phrase “Art of Snow—or Trick of Lily.” Both the snow and the lily are transient. Is this why it called a trick, or an art (as in artifice)? The woman, and her life, represented here most fittingly by her feet, which have walked the earth, have achieved some deeper and less transient truth than the merely seasonal. This is represented by the garland placed there by loved ones. This show of Love is more meaningful, more eternal, than the seasonal trick of snow and flowers. That strikes me as a powerful idea, and was worth slowing down to "get."

I’m attuned to the fact that “feet” in Dickinson’s poetry always seems to have a double meaning of metrical feet.When feet get mentioned in a Dickinson poem it is worth looking for something metrically awry in the feet of the poem. (See F372 for a good example of this.) So I look for a metrical anomaly in this one and I notice that the poem is trochaic instead of iambic. See the notes at the end of this post for more on this idea and a possible reason Dickinson decided to use this rhythm in this poem.

Of Her Father—Whoso ask Her—
He shall seek as high
As the Palm—that serve the Desert—
To obtain the Sky—

Continuing with the Marriage vs. Funeral conceit, this stanza riffs off of the idea of asking the girl for her hand in marriage, which has now turned into asking the Father in heaven for the dead girl's hand. In order to get that permission, you have to seek as high as the Palm in the Desert. What a beautiful image. In the arid deadness of the desert there is a palm reaching up to the sky. (I think of the title of Wallace Steven’s final book, “The Palm at the End of the Mind.”) There may be a pun on Dessert here too with that phrase “that serve the Desert (Dessert)." This may be a stretch, but Dessert IS what usually comes after “serve." And to extend this pun, you have a hand, a Palm, serving the dessert too. As the Palm—that serve the Desert—  Can Dickinson possibly be so clever?

The palm (tree) “serves” the desert, with shade, and perhaps with the sustenance of coconuts, but also, here, it serves the desert to obtain the sky.

Distance—be Her only Motion—
If ’tis Nay—or Yes—
Acquiescence—or Demurral—
Whosoever guess—

The dead girl is at an impossible distance from us now, so we can’t know which motion she gives to the question of marriage, nay or yes? There is a double meaning for motion here. When you see distance as motion, as movement itself, suddenly you find yourself going at light speed.

He—must pass the Crystal Angle
That obscure Her face—
He—must have achieved in person
Equal Paradise—

What an intriguing phrase, "Crystal Angle." What is this Crystal Angle we must pass between this world and the next? Is this referring to something specific, like the lens of a telescope? My first thought, in keeping with Dickinson's idea of "Tell the truth but tell it slant" is that you have to “slant” a crystal lens between this world and the next at just the right angle to “see” the beloved girl. The only way to do that, we are told in the next lines, is to achieve "in person/ Equal Paradise—”

The first meaning of achieving "Equal Paradise" is that you would have to die (a la Romeo or Heathcliff) to join the beloved girl if you wish to join her.

But the second meaning could be…anything that takes you beyond the veil. You just have to turn the angle of the crystal right.

One other thought is that this poem could be, posthumously, about Dickinson herself. She never left the Homestead until her death. Never did a bride have such assembling as Dickinson has readers for her poems. Her "feet" (poetic feet) are fitter than art of snow or trick or Lily. Distance is her only motion. And to read her poems clearly you have to slant the crystal at just the right angle. Finally, to meet her where she now is you have achieve Equal Paradise.


       -/)dam Wade l)eGraff






Notes:

1. It would be instructive to look at just the poems Dickinson makes trochaic and take note of the various reasons why she makes this choice. Since it runs counter to the norm, it is always, I believe, a conscious choice made for a purpose, so the question is, why did she make this choice for this particular poem?

One theory: this poem itself passes through a crystal angle, you might say, by inverting the common iambic rhythm into a trochaic rhythm. The English language lends itself most easily to the iambic rhythm, which is why poets most often use it, but the trochaic rhythm echoes that sound of the heartbeat itself, DUM dum DUM dum DUM dum.

2. I went down a bit of a rabbit hole with Crystal Angles. There is a lot there, and its hard to know if Dickinson was just playing off the mathematical properties of the way crystals are formed. But here's an intriguing bit from the Happy Scientist website:

"How can a random assortment of molecules arrange themselves in geometric shapes with such smooth sides and precise angles?

It has to do with how the molecules fit together. Imagine a jigsaw puzzle. You start with a pile of strangely shaped pieces, but when you put them together, you wind up with a rectangular shape, with smooth sides and sharp corners. No matter how many times you take it apart and put it back together, the puzzle will always form the same shape, with the same angles at the corners.

While molecules in a quartz crystal are not shaped like jigsaw pieces, they do fit together in a very specific way to form the crystal. A common example is a quartz crystal. A well formed quartz crystal has six sides, forming a hexagonal crystal that usually comes together at the end to form a point. The angles where those six sides meet will always be exactly 120°. It does not matter if the crystal is large or small, thick or thin, long or short. The flat parts of the crystal, called crystal faces, may be different sizes, producing crystals with different shapes, but the angles between those faces will still be 120°."