17 May 2026

That is solemn we have ended

That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday,

Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood, for better
Still to be explained—


   -F907, J934, sheet 9, 1865


This is a meditation on the solemnity of endings.

The word "solemn" derives from the Latin adjective sollemnis, meaning formal or ceremonial. It reminds me of the opening line from one of Dickinson’s most famous poems, “After great pain a formal feeling comes.”

It’s worth noting that Dickinson provided two alternate words for “solemn” here, “sacred” and “tender." Solemn has a grave connotation, whereas sacred hallows the event that came before it. With the word "sacred" you are not so much sad it is over as you are happy it happened. “Tender” brings the idea of endings into the world of emotions, and leans toward the sentimental. If you put them all together you have something richer than any of the words alone could get across. I’ve heard it argued (I forget by whom) that the alternate words Dickinson supplied should be read as part of the poem, and I tend to agree with this. Obviously for the tight metrical structure of the poems this doesn’t work, but if we are trying to get at Dickinson’s meaning, it can help.

The first line of this poem “That is solemn we have ended” is semantically a bit odd. It seems to describe the end of a relationship, one which is already over, but the next lines show us this line is meant to be conditional and universal, not past-tense and personal. This confusion is probably purposeful. Dickinson could’ve easily written something like, “It is solemn when the end comes” which would make the general nature of the poem much more clear from the get-go, more like an aphorism. The effect is that the poem has the feeling of personal loss, which heightens the emotional sincerity of the poem. The “ending” has already occurred, emotionally, but is still pending philosophically, “Still to be explained.”

The poem starts with small things, a play, a song, and it builds to more major ones, leaving home and death. It reminds me of Elizabeth Bishop’s villanelle “One Art” which tells us to practice losing small things like keys, and then build to larger things, like entire countries.

Be it but a Play

There's an echo here, I think, of Macbeth's famous soliloquy,  "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more." I think there is a sense in this poem too of life being "but a Play"...

Or a glee among the Garret 

"Glee among the Garret" a wonderful phrase. “Glee” is a word for joy, but also for an acapella part-song. Garret is “a small, cramped, dismal living space located directly under the roof of a house or building and is historically associated with cheap urban housing for struggling writers, students, and 'starving artists.'" So if you combine the two, you think of a happy moment of harmonious singing even while living in poor conditions. The fun will come to an end and someone will have to get a real job, or starve to death, but it is the very essence of living while it lasts.

The Artist's Garret by Thomas A. De Nobele, 1850

The last lines of the poem tell us something about Dickinson's understanding of the afterlife, which is that it is "Still to be explained."

Parting with a World
We have understood, for better
Still to be explained—


There is a wry move in the last two lines here. If there was a dash after "better," then we would read this as saying “we have ended...parting with a world we have understood, for better." But the line doesn't end there, it enjambs (a poetry term meaning continues on to the next line), so we get instead, "we have ended...parting with a world we have understood, for better still to be explained.” Dickinson doesn't assume any knowledge about what is coming. Maybe it will be better, or maybe not. The unknowability is essential here, part of what makes the ending so solemn. This unknown quality of what comes next is inextricable from what makes this play called life all the more sacred and tender.


-/)dam Wade l)eGraff


P.S. It is interesting to look at Mabel Loomis Todd’s transcription of this poem, which you can see here. You can see how much Todd (who was Emily's brother's mistress) has edited the poem to fit into the standards of the day. She’s given it a title, “Endings,” and crossed out the last word “explained” and exchanged it with “unfurled" to rhyme with “World.” She also added an "s" to garret. This all makes perfect editorial sense, but also, in each case, weakens the poem. "Unfurled," is pretty good, but it doesn't give us the subtle sense of whether the next life is better or not, "for better still to be explained," that the original has.

7 comments:

  1. The glee among the Garret is a wonderful image, very original, and I like your cooments on that phrase!!

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  2. Wonderful commentary, Adam. And the painting you included of “The Artist’s Garret” is so perfect! Looks like glee to me — I want to be there. The date, 1850, made me momentarily think that Dickinson might have seen it. Until I remembered that she didn’t have the internet.

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  3. The mention of garret as  "cheap urban housing for struggling writers, students, and starving artists" reminded me of a painting  by German painter Carl Spitzweg.
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Poor_Poet

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    1. Thank you. I saw that one when I was looking for garret paintings, but didn't use it because there was no "glee" there. But it struck me. What is the poet doing, flicking umbrella in the air with his fingers over and over again, bored and/or thinking of his next line? It's curious.

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  4. I love the idea of deliberately uncommitted word choices in a rigid metrical poem. Like, allowing for spots of fuzzy grammatical superposition. Solemn above sacred above tender, but all three at once, as long as the meter foots along. (Especially if such superpositions can only be detected via forensic analysis of manuscripts. Syntaxing superposition stacks might be gross.)

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  5. The poet in the painting by Cars Schwitzweg is not flicking, the umbrella. Wikipedia explains it as follows: "On the right there are the rafters of the house roof, on which an umbrella hangs, to protect the sleeping area from the moisture dripping through the roof". As for his fungers, "With the fingers of his right hand he appears to be counting the meter of a poem – or is he crushing a flea?"

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    1. Nice. I did think about the umbrella being stuck there to divert a leak. I like the counting rhyme and crushed fly ideas. It also look though like he is about to flick that umbrella out of boredom. Maybe the next scene is the umbrella falling down on him like rain.

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