tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post8907799427589934846..comments2024-03-27T11:02:20.107-07:00Comments on the prowling Bee: You'll know Her — by Her Foot —Susan Kornfeldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-37161926313837788522023-12-30T18:13:03.940-08:002023-12-30T18:13:03.940-08:00Stanza 1 reminds me of ED’s hilarious verbal carto...Stanza 1 reminds me of ED’s hilarious verbal cartoon of the prima donna Robin ballerina hopping on one claw toward her mesmerized Boston audience, the other claw held in perfect penché position high overhead. ('I cannot dance upon my Toes', F381, 1862)Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-56544057317571770262023-12-30T18:02:20.842-08:002023-12-30T18:02:20.842-08:00Gamboge is a deep yellow pigment derived from a sp...Gamboge is a deep yellow pigment derived from a species of tree that grows in Cambodia. Its name derives from an ancient name for Cambodia, Camboja. Chinese artists have used the yellow-gold pigment since 800 AD. EDLex defines Gamboge as “Yellow; golden”. (Wiki)<br /><br />ED’s close descriptive details of legs (stem), breast (vest), shoulders (Jacket), and especially head (cap) of an American Robin suggest she inspected a window-killed bird in her hand. However, Robins have brown-grey feet and rarely stand in sand. In her woods walks or garden she may have seen migrating Yellow Warblers or Blackpoll Warblers, which do have yellow feet. <br /><br />The last two lines of this poem are the puzzle to me: <br /><br />“You beg the Robin in your Brain<br />To keep the other — still —”<br /><br />Why would ED want the Robin in her Brain to keep the tree bird still? I would want it the other way round:<br /><br />“You beg the Robin in the tree<br />To keep your Brain bird still —"<br />Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-17759156034960663622023-12-29T06:42:30.858-08:002023-12-29T06:42:30.858-08:00This comment has been removed by the author.Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-81748115100888451332023-11-12T07:41:00.620-08:002023-11-12T07:41:00.620-08:00It's well worth noting that there is an altern...It's well worth noting that there is an alternative ending for this poem, one which is radically different. <br /><br />Deny she is a Robin -- now --<br />And you're an infidel. <br /><br />I like that ending better. <br /><br />It's mind bending to think that such a long poem (by Emily's standards) could be turned into such a different poem altogether with a different closing couplet. <br /><br />Also, alternative words for "Argument" include Threnodies, Extacies, and Revenues". I like Revenues a lot, especially with the alternative ending, but "arguments" is too good to lose. d scribehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08242682202760522439noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-3350205980604004942023-11-12T07:39:32.654-08:002023-11-12T07:39:32.654-08:00Yes, in "After great pain" there is the ...Yes, in "After great pain" there is the line "The Feet, mechanical, go round". Up until these lines the meter is extremely regular, but after these lines they become wildly disjointed, tripping. <br /><br />d scribehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08242682202760522439noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-56749097714663254392023-11-11T18:28:38.609-08:002023-11-11T18:28:38.609-08:00I'd never thought about Dickinson's word p...I'd never thought about Dickinson's word play with 'feet' -- except for the specific use in this poem. Thanks for that! I'm glad I reread this poem if only for the seasonal development of Robin's song from 'doubtful tone' to 'arguments of pearl'. So descriptive, so ringing true -- so playful, memorable, fond, and true.Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-15508247672214383322023-11-11T09:08:55.987-08:002023-11-11T09:08:55.987-08:00I love the connection with Higginson here and the ...I love the connection with Higginson here and the spasmotic meter. We really do come to know Dickinson by her metric foot, which is oh so regular and irregular at once, and always playing at the tension between the two. And the handwriting as bird tracks! And even the quote referring to herself as a bird is germane here. This is some good literary detective work, Susan. <br /><br />Because of the poem "After great pain..." wherein Dickinson uses "feet" to refer to both literal and metric feet, I've come to look for that play on words in her poems, but I missed it here until you pointed it out.<br /><br />One thing I love about reading ED (and good writing in general) is the wealth of metaphor it gives you through which to see the world. I'll listen next spring for the robins' "doubtful tone", and I'm sure the terrific phrase "arguments of pearl" will occur to me too as I listen to the song. <br /><br />I've been thinking lately about the array of car honking and construction noises and ice cream truck jingles that end up drowning out my own inner songs, so this poem strikes home. I listened to a podcast called "twenty thousand hertz" this morning, an episode about John Cage's piece "4' and 33"" in which the performer plays nothing (or, technically, plays rests) for the duration of the piece. The idea of the piece is that while it is "played" you listen to the sounds around you, or maybe to your own thoughts, and THAT becomes the music. I've always loved the piece, but what I didn't know before the podcast informed me is that Cage initially tried to sell the piece to Muzak as a kind of protest against the piped-in canned music you hear everywhere. It's worth a listen. <br /> <br />https://www.20k.org/episodes/433d scribehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08242682202760522439noreply@blogger.com