These – saw Visions –

These – saw Visions –
Latch them softly –
These – held Dimples –
Smooth them slow –
This – addressed departing accents –
Quick – Sweet Mouth – to miss thee so –

This – we stroked –
Unnumbered – Satin –
These – we held among our own –
Fingers of the Slim Aurora –
Not so arrogant – this Noon –

These – adjust – that ran to meet Us –
Pearl – for stocking – Pearl for Shoe –
Paradise – the only Palace
Fit for Her reception – now –

      -Fr769, J758, Fascicle 34, 1863


What a vision the poet has laid here before us. Gothic – romantic – devastating.

The poet is describing the recent death of a woman, her lover judging by the clues. It's also possible she is talking about herself, asking her lover to close her eyes for her. One triumph of this poem is that you  can read it either way. The "Us" of this poem implies both.

These – saw Visions –
Latch them softly –

It’s possible that the poet is speaking of something that has already happened, the death of a friend, or lover, but I suspect that this is a future vision. I believe Dickinson is imagining the death of a lover, or herself. If this is a vision, then it is fitting that the first thing the vision envisions is "These (that) saw visions." 

Because there is no pronoun to begin the poem, it does appear, at first, that the poet is referring to her own eyes. You don’t know at first who “These” refers to. By omitting the pronoun the poet invites you to believe it is her own eyes she is referring to. This ambiguity is strengthened in the second stanza with the use of the pronoun “we.” This gives you the sense that it might be either lover laying the other to rest,  whichever of them happens to survive the other.

It turns out Dickinson was the one who died first, and, sure enough her childhood sweetheart Sue Dickinson was there, 36 years after they first met, to softly latch Emily’s eyes. 

Well, we can’t know for sure she did that. We only know she was there to ready the body for the grave, that is all. But I don’t really have much doubt that Sue did smooth over the dimples on Dickinson’s cheek, and maybe even with this poem in mind. See more about this in the notes below. 

The use of the word “latch” is great, especially if we apply the term to Dickinson’s own eyes. She spent much of her adult life staring out of her own bedroom window, which were her eyes out into the world. This vision was the inspiration for many of her Visions beyond physical sight. The windows to the soul are being latched here too.

These – held Dimples –
Smooth them slow –

Ah, the dimples, which imply a smile, which implies happiness. Dimples are like a ripple of a smile. To have these ripples of happiness smoothed out “slow” is heart rending.

Several poems in this fascicle employ a trochaic rhythm rather than an iambic one. I think Dickinson does this, in many cases, to give extra emotional emphasis to the poem from the get-go. An all cap “THESE!” is the sense you get from switching up the rhythm to make the syllabic beat come first. "On the one!" as they say in funk music. 

Also, look at the effect of taking the “ly” off of “slow.” You expect that "ly", rhythmically, so by taking that last beat off you get an extra beat on “slow.” It gives us a slow, but emphatic, SLOOOW. You don’t notice it with the mind, but if you say it out loud, you feel it with the heart.

This – addressed departing accents –
Quick – Sweet Mouth – to miss thee so.

A quick mouth. Well, Dickinson’s wit is very quick, as is abundantly evident in nearly every single poem, but so was Susan’s. She was well known as a sparkling conversationalist. She was called “the most graceful woman in Western Massachusetts” by Samuel Bowles, and entertained Emerson, Frances Hodgson Burnett (both nearly as great as Dickinson,) not to mention such luminaries as Harriet Beecher Stowe and Frederick Law Olmstead.

It's a strange turn of phrase, “This addressed departing accents.” Who is talking to whom here? Who is departing? Who is addressing? This mouth is addressing the departing accents of the surviving listeners? How could an accent address an accent? Who is speaking and who is listening? Who is dying and who is surviving?

Also, the idea of an accent to sum up a voice is lovely. We all have regional accents, but we also each have our own accents, inimitable as fingerprints. The more carefully you listen, the more you hear them.

This – we stroked –
Unnumbered – Satin –

Here the "we" comes into the poem for the first time. It is possible Dickinson is using the royal "we” here, but I think this use of the first person plural brings the idea that stroking was mutual. The pure sensual detail of two women stroking each other’s satin hair, unnumbered times, is enough to make anyone fall into a trance. I also think it's possible that Dickinson may be referring to satin skin, which gives an even deeper sensuality to the stroking in these lines.

The line “Unnumbered – Satin –” by itself is a fragment worthy of Sappho. It’s as if the texture of satin contained, in itself, a sense of the infinite, a sensuality beyond measure. 

There is also a kind of falling away in the broken syntax of the line: "This – we stroked," falling off into "unnumbered," as if the whole phrase could not even be uttered, falling finally, breathlessly, into just "satin." It is just exquisite.

Fingers of the Slim Aurora –
Not so arrogant – this Noon –

By Aurora, here, Dickinson, means the goddess of dawn. Fingers of Aurora, I believe, must be an allusion to Homer’s Odyssey, where we find the phrase “The rosy fingers of Dawn” mentioned several times.

It's as if she were saying, "My lover's fingers (or mine) which were once comparable to the mythic rosy fingers of dawn, are not so arrogant in the harsh realism revealed in the light of noon."

These – adjust – that ran to meet Us –
Pearl – for stocking – Pearl for Shoe –

The anaphoric repetition of "These" and "This" in this poem creates a terrific rhythm. These, These, This, This, These, These.

We have made it to the feet. Feet are so important in Dickinson's poetry. 

These feet, of the beloved, that once ran toward her beloved – we can imagine the two friends literally running toward one another in a field – must now be “arranged.” That verb, "arranged," in contrast to running, is so ghastly and tender at once.

It's also worth pointing out that feet, in every Dickinson poem I've read so far, doubles as a symbol for poetic feet, and therefore for poetry itself. So to "adjust" feet may also be seen as metaphor for the metrical arrangement of the words in a poem. 

The pearl placed on the stocking and shoe elicits the very treasure of the sea itself, lovingly placed upon the body of the departed.

For me this recalls the Tempest,

“Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.”

One pearl, I believe, is meant to represent Emily, and one, Sue, but which one is the stocking and which is the shoe? Who fits into whom?

Paradise – the only Palace
Fit for Her reception – now –

Paradise. This word holds so much pathos. Is there a Paradise after death? What kind of paradise is it when your legs no longer run, your lips no longer kiss and you no longer smile? 

    -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

The great actress Sarah Berhardt in her deathbed. 

Not Sue, nor Emily, but she could have ably acted either's part.

Notes: 

1. This poem is very similar to two other poems in this fascicle. In Fr762, we get this scenario reversed. The woman is asking her lover to be there to close her eyes with a kiss. Another is a slightly earlier poem, Fr759, in which Dickinson describes a funeral as if it were a wedding, and the departed as if she were a bride.

2. "Susan's enactment of simple ritual for profound utterance is perhaps best displayed in the simple flannel robe she designed and in which she dressed Emily for death, laying her out in a white casket, cypripedium and violets (symbolizing faithfulness) at her neck, two heliotropes (symbolizing devotion) in her hand (St. Armand 74-75). This final act over Emily's body underscores "their shared life, their deep and complex intimacy" and that they both anticipated a "postmortem resurrection" of that intimacy." (Hart 255; Pollak 137).

The Mountains – grow unnoticed –

The Mountains – grow unnoticed –
Their Purple figures rise
Without attempt – Exhaustion –
Assistance – or Applause –

In Their Eternal Faces
The Sun – with just delight
Looks long – and last – and golden –
For fellowship – at night –

   -Fr768, J757,  fascicle 34, 1863

When you read “The Mountains – grow unnoticed –/ Their Purple Figures rise,” it is hard not to think of Dickinson herself, who grew into a literary mountain, though she was virtually unnoticed in her lifetime, and whose Purple (read: royal) Figure is still rising.

I doubt Dickinson was thinking of fame when she wrote this poem. I imagine that it was more of a reminder to herself, and perhaps to her reader, to be patient. The wonder though is that this reminder worked, which is clear in retrospect. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding.

This is a wisdom poem. Dickinson appears to be in line with Lao Tzu’s "Tao Te Ching." She says the mountain forms without attempting, exhaustion, assistance or applause. Lao Tzu says:

“He who raises himself on tiptoe cannot stand firm. He who walks with strides cannot travel far. He who brags about himself shall not receive credit.”

Dickinson is attempting to align herself, and her reader, with the Eternal Faces represented by the mountains.

The second stanza is beautiful,

In Their Eternal Faces
The Sun – with just delight
Looks long – and last – and golden –
For fellowship – at night –

In the mountains we have an image of something grand and eternal being looked at “long and last” by the "Sun," or by whatever might be meant metaphorically by Sun; Son of God? Inspiration? Glory? Then the two rest together at night, in fellowship. If, in poetic parlance, night equals death, then this is the kind of death Dickinson aspires to: a golden light setting on a purple mountain's majesty.

It’s a beautiful thought, and the poem serves as a paean to patience. It's a reminder that it doesn't matter if you are unnoticed, and don't worry about applause. The true relation you are seeking, the Sun on your Peaks, will be there if you just keep on keeping on. The paradox, the trick, is to keep on without attempting to do it. Like Yoda says, "There is no try, there is only do."

The best part is that when you are no longer "attempting," there is nothing to be exhausted over.  You can do your work restfully, with Dickinson as a prime example. As the great poet and painter Joe Brainard says, 

    

        -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

One Blessing had I than the rest

One Blessing had I than the rest
So larger to my Eyes
That I stopped gauging – satisfied –
For this enchanted size –

It was the limit of my Dream –
The focus of my Prayer –
A perfect – paralyzing Bliss –
Contented as Despair –

I knew no more of Want – or Cold –
Phantasms both become
For this new Value in the Soul –
Supremest Earthly Sum –

The Heaven below the Heaven above
Obscured with ruddier Blue –
Life’s Latitudes leant over – full –
The Judgment perished – too –

Why Bliss so scantily disburse –
Why Paradise defer –
Why Floods be served to Us – in Bowls
I speculate no more –

        -Fr767, J756, fascicle 34, 1863


In the first stanza of this poem Emily Dickinson says she has had a blessing so enchantingly large that she stopped gauging. To gauge is to measure an amount.

This begs the question, if you stop gauging, will you thus find an enchantingly large blessing? Can you reverse engineer this poem?

Last night on the Golden Globes Demi Moore said, “You will know the value of your worth if you just put down the measuring stick.” This poem resonates with that idea. We see variations of it come up often in Dickinson’s poetry. “'Tis little I could care for pearls who own the ample sea” is one line that comes to mind.

But, in the second stanza, we begin to see a possible downside. The lack of limit may be itself limiting. Notice the change in diction with those words “limit," “paralyzing” and “Despair:”

It was the limit of my Dream –
The focus of my Prayer –
A perfect – paralyzing Bliss –
Contented as Despair –

To reach the very limit of your dream is terrific, but then, I suppose, you must admit a limit. The focus of prayer is limiting in its way too. To focus is to limit your vision. You are left with a perfect bliss, but there is something paralyzing about that perfection. That line “Contented as Despair” is amazing at summing up this paradox.

Bliss can be paralyzing when it’s too perfect, just as despair can be when it’s too deep. If a person is in a state of perfect fulfillment, there’s nothing left to pursue. This may lead to a sense of emptiness. Even bliss, in its extremity, might bring a sense of stagnation. In achieving the ultimate bliss, one feels as though they’ve lost the ability to act. That’s insightful. 

There’s a sense of completeness that, rather than being liberating, could feel suffocating. The contentment is so complete that it resembles despair in its totality. The bliss experienced is absolute and final, and in that sense, it is paralyzing, just like despair. It’s a fascinating way of exploring how extreme positive states can sometimes be as confining as negative ones.

I knew no more of Want – or Cold –
Phantasms both become
For this new Value in the Soul –
Supremest Earthly Sum –

This stanza has now swung back to the positive side of the equation. "Want" and "Cold" have become Phantasms. (“Fictions” is an alternative word that Dickinson provides here, which ties "Want" and "Cold" then to “Reality.”) 

We are in the world of Equations here, with those words, “Value” and “Sum.” I’m always reminded of Sue Gilbert, Emily’s sister-in-law, when Dickinson turns to mathematical terminology, as Sue was a mathematician. It’s possible this poem is about being in love. The idea of a Sum summons this idea. One and one makes two. You can see this idea of one and one making a sum of two played out in the poem Dickinson hand-wrote shortly before this one in fascicle 34, Fr765.

The Heaven below the Heaven above
Obscured with ruddier Blue –
Life’s Latitudes leant over – full –
The Judgment perished – too –

This phrase “Heaven below” also clues us in that we are probably talking about a relationship, as does the adjective “ruddier,” which evokes the blood-red color of a face. The idea of a Blue being ruddier is odd at first. But then you realize that a ruddier blue would be…purple, the color of royalty. An alternative word Dickinson provides in the fascicle for “ruddier” is “comelier” which also points toward the idea of a physical human beauty.

The word "latitudes" is taking us from the idea of math to that of geometry. Latitude lines are those stretching around the globe. With latitude lines "leant over" you get a sense of expansive space, the “full” of space,  latitude lines leaning over, all the way around the world. It’s a terrific image. 

Latitude can also mean “scope of freedom.” In the lack of judgement you have an expansion of freedom.

The “Judgment perished” takes us beyond good and evil. Again, the idea of measuring, or judging, is made obsolete by great feeling, Heaven’s Judgment, in particular, is rendered mute by this closer Heaven.

Why Bliss so scantily disburse –
Why Paradise defer –
Why Floods be served to Us – in Bowls
I speculate no more –

Speculation is the forming of a theory or conjecture without firm evidence. It’s a word that attempts to “measure” the future. This poem is looking back, and it understands that this great feeling of absolute fullness cannot be forever, and would even lead to a kind of limiting paralysis if it were. But it also revels in the bowlful of flood that has been served.

    -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

"Floods be served to Us – in Bowls"

note: In the fascicle Dickinson spells "gauging" as "guaging." Perhaps this was on purpose. She sometimes does get creative with spelling, but I would think that in this case it is was an error. Please correct me if I'm wrong. Perhaps not worrying about spelling is a very clever way of "not gauging." Dickinson is usually extremely careful about the smallest detail. An accidental misspelling is rare. 

No Bobolink – reverse His Singing

No Bobolink – reverse His Singing
When the only Tree
Ever He minded occupying
By the Farmer be –

Clove to the Root –
His Spacious Future –
Best Horizon – gone –
Brave Bobolink –
Whose Music be His
Only Anodyne –


     -Fr766, J755, Fascicle 34, 1863

The first line of this poem is funny. What would it mean to “reverse” your singing? By “reverse,” Dickinson means “will stop.” But why not just write “will stop” there? The word "reverse" leads you to imagine the bobolink song being sung backwards. So my first question is, why did she use the word “reverse?” My best guess is that it points toward the absurdity of life going backwards. Birds are going to do what birds do. The song goes on, no matter the circumstances. Creation is irreversible.

Another oddity is the line, “The only tree ever he minded occupying.” This implies that no other tree would do, which gives us a clue that it is a person, not a bird, that we are talking about here. A bird surely wouldn’t mind occupying a different tree.

The next funny move here is the way the last line of the stanza continues in the second stanza. “By the farmer be-// clove to the root.” The poem, itself, like the tree, has been noticeably cleft in two.

Alas, the tree has been cloven in two, and the “spacious future” and “best horizon” for the bird is gone. But at least it has its song for anodyne. (An anodyne is a painkilling drug.)

Song goes on no matter what, but singing, because it is anodyne, is especially useful in difficult times. Larry Barden, in his take on this poem, helpfully points out that Dickinson's second letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson, L338, dated April 28, 1862, included this sentence:

"Mr Higginson, . . . I had a terror – since September – I could tell to none – and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground, because I am afraid.”

We can infer that the brave bobolink in this poem is Dickinson herself, and her poetry, her irreversible song. Her song is still moving forward 160 years later.

Life got you down? Be like the bobolink, this poem tells us, and keep singing.  It will be an anodyne. As another Bob pointed out, "One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain."

-/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Notes:

1. There is an earlier poem in which Dickinson speaks of the Bobolink’s song as an “anodyne,” Fr88. 

2. There is a terrific website call Dickinson's Birds which features recordings of actual birdsong along with Dickinson’s poems. Click on the link to listen to the bobolink.

The Sunrise runs for Both –

The Sunrise runs for Both –
The East – Her Purple Troth
Keeps with the Hill –
The Noon unwinds Her Blue
Till One Breadth cover Two –
Remotest – still –

Nor does the Night forget
A Lamp for Each – to set –
Wicks wide away –
The North – Her blazing Sign
Erects in Iodine –
Till Both – can see –

The Midnight’s Dusky Arms
Clasp Hemispheres, and Homes
And so
Upon Her Bosom – One –
And One upon Her Hem –
Both lie –


    -Fr765, J710, Fascicle 34, 1863

The sky above unites us, even if we are in slightly different time zones. 

The Sunrise runs for Both –
The East – Her Purple Troth
Keeps with the Hill –

This is one of those poems that seems to me to have been written to a specific tune in Dickinson's mind. That 1,2,3 - 1,2,3 - 1,2 rhythm repeats 6 times and lends itself perfectly to melody. I often wonder if Dickinson composed poems to a melody in her head and suspect she did. 

The Sunrise runs. This reminds me of the lines from Andrew Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress," which surely Dickinson knew. 

Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

In Dickinson's poem you get the impression that the sun is running quickly away from two viewers. But also, because of the syntax, you get a sense of it running "for," or towards, the viewers. And you also get another idea, of the the sun rising and running "for" the sake of the viewers.

It is worth noting that the word "Both" is repeated in each of the three stanzas here. And there is also the word "set" and "two" and "One and One" which further emphasizes the idea of a couple here.

With the word "Troth" in the second line you get a new set of ideas. First is the idea of marriage, or betrothal. Troth means "faith or loyalty when pledged in a solemn agreement." So this Troth, which is the royal color, purple, is a reflection of the seriousness of the relationship of this couple. But it also a reminder that the running sun will return again. It may be running, but it "keeps with the Hill." And the last word in the stanza is "still." The stanza starts with a run, but ends still. 

I like the idea of the hill reaching up toward the sun, the earth stretching towards the betrothal of the purple sky. 

The Noon unwinds Her Blue
Till One Breadth cover Two –

Remotest – still –

In the fourth line time has moved forward and it is now noon. The color has changed too. It is blue. This poem is like a painting moving forward in time and shifting its color palette.  It unwinds in time. The blue is one breadth that covers Two. That idea of two becoming one is what I think this poem is ultimately getting at. This reminds me of another poem, this time by Shakespeare, from The Phoenix and The Turtle,

"Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was called.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together,
To themselves yet either neither,
Simple were so well compounded;

That it cried, "How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love has reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain."

I would guess Dickinson knew this poem too. "Till One Breadth cover Two –" That word "Breadth" has an expansiveness to it, as if the two were widening out into one. This feeling of width continues in the second stanza with the line "Wicks wide away." And it continues further in the the third stanza with the body of arms of night stretched wide one direction and the body stretched another. The overall impression is of two people who are united in an ever-expanding sky. 

The final line of of the first stanza "Remotest still" carries a wistful sense of distance that is mitigated by united sky. What does distance mean in that breadth of blue?

Nor does the Night forget
A Lamp for Each – to set –
Wicks wide away –

Here you get a sense of "hope" in this poem; light set in darkness. The moon in the sky has become a lamp. This is an ancient idea. In Beowulf, for instance, the poet speaks of God setting lamps in the sky when creating the world.

This poem maintains a tension between things being apart and together. It's got that contranymic sense of things moving apart and together at once. You see it in that line "Wicks wide away." The Two lovers are united under the wide sky, but they are still far away from one another. The word "wicks" here can be read as a noun or a verb. To wick is to remove water, and gives the sense of two lovers being moved apart. 

The North – Her blazing Sign
Erects in Iodine –
Till Both – can see –

This poem takes into account up and down, with that hill reaching up, and latitude and longitude with East and North. It covers all of space you might say. 

The blazing sign of the north is the north star, which shines in iodine. Iodine is the color of a dark shiny blue/black. 

raw iodine

The north star is, like "Troth," another symbol of truth, and guidance too. Here that sign is "blazing," until "Both" can "see." 

The Midnight’s Dusky Arms
Clasp Hemispheres, and Homes
And so

Now you have the loving idea of the embrace, of two halves of a sphere coming together to unite in the darkness, and the comforting feeling of Home. 

Those reading this poem biographically may see it, like David Preest does, as being about Samuel Bowles, who may have been in Europe at the time this poem was written, or, as Larry Barden does, as being about Charles Wadsworth, who was in San Francisco at this time. Neither are exactly on a different hemisphere of the earth, but both are far enough away that the night sky would just barely reach them at the same time it was reaching Emily on the other side of it. 

And so
Upon Her Bosom – One –
And One upon Her Hem –
Both lie –

The night stretches half way around the earth. On one side is the bosom of night and one side the hem of her skirt. To me "Her Bosom" could refer to another possible lover, maybe one who is not several times zones away, but seems to be so in the house next door, Sue Gilbert Dickinson, Emily's sister-in-law, with whom many believe she was in love. The word "Her" is mentioned four times in this poem. That along with "bosom" and "hem" give this poem a distinctly feminine air. Who knows, maybe Sue was away traveling when this poem was written? 

Biographical surmising aside, and bringing it back Home to the reader, this poem unites us to its writer beneath the colorful cycle of an ever-changing sky, Emily in her hemisphere, and us in this one. 

I love how "Two" has turned into "One/  And One" here, which speaks to our individuality and togetherness at once. Both.

        -/)dam  Wade l)eGraff

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -
In Corners - till a Day
The Owner passed - identified -
And carried Me away -

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -
And now We hunt the Doe -
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply -

And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow -
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let it’s pleasure through -

And when at Night - Our good Day done -
I guard My Master’s Head -
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow - to have shared -

To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -
None stir the second time -
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -
Or an emphatic Thumb -

Though I than He - may longer live
He longer must - than I -
For I have but the power to kill,
Without - the power to die -



        -Fr764, J754, Fascicle 34, 1863



This is one of the most tantalizingly difficult, and yet powerful, poems of Dickinson’s oeuvre. Many terrific essays have been written about it. One of my favorite books, “My Emily Dickinson,” by Susan Howe, is centered around it. The poet Adrienne Rich has written beautifully about it. In this discussion, moderated by Al Filreis, the panel gets into some of its many difficulties. Filreis calls it the most difficult of all Dickinson’s poems. That's saying something with Dickinson, who is one of our most difficult poets.

Why does it intrigue us so much? The edgy danger of a loaded gun I reckon. Add the sexual metaphor of the gun going off and now you have sex added to the mix. Sex and violence. Who can resist?

There are as many interpretations of this poem as there are readers of it, and I recommend looking at several to get a feel for the possibilities. 

Because I’m most interested in the what a poem has to say to, and for, a reader, my own take on the poem focuses there.

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -
In Corners - till a Day
The Owner passed - identified -
And carried Me away -

A life being compared to a gun in a corner is a metaphor for unreleased potential. We each have very powerful energy "locked" in us. For Emily, this potential is realized in her poetry. (Her canon, you might say, is her cannon.) This potential is often unlocked through relationship. Therefore, the gun stays locked and loaded in a corner until it becomes useful to someone, to whomever "owns" it. 

 Who is this “Owner” of the gun, this “Master?” I’ve seen interpretations in which “Owner” is read as lover, or as God, or as Self. I would add to that list: Reader. The Reader identifies the meaning of the poem, and thus unlocks its fire power. The poem just sits in a corner until that day.

There is a double meaning to “carried away” in the fourth line, a romantic notion of being chosen, and then getting carried away in a relationship. 

I love the way the repetition of the D sound in this first stanza mimics the plodding sound of gun fire. Read it out loud and imagine a gun shot every time you pronounce the D. 

The next stanza has a wonderful sound too, with the repetitions of "And."  "And now We roam", "And now we hunt," "And every time..."

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -
And now We hunt the Doe -
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply -

Continuing with the idea of the D sounds, notice the way the sharp sound of “Doe” echoes the "Day" of the first stanza, both of them coming emphatically at the end of the second line. There will be one more echo of this sound in the final word of the poem, "Die." 

The potential of the poet is realized in, among other things, speaking Truth. The poet “speaks for Him.” How do you know it is the Truth the poet is speaking? "The Mountains straight reply."

And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow -
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let it’s pleasure through -

If you take the killing in this poem literally, then the first line of this stanza reads as sinister. You smiled at the death of the doe? How could this possibly be “cordial?” But cordial makes more sense if what is being killed is in service to Love. "Cordial light" has a double meaning then with the "light of reason." Our illusions are maddening. They can destroy the ties that bind us together. When you destroy the thing that destroys, it is a great pleasure. 

"Vesuvian face" is a reference to Mount Vesuvius, the famous volcano that destroyed Pompeii. Dickinson uses this metaphor of a volcano often, and I think it generally represents the explosive heat of passion, of the love that roils beneath the veneer of our defensive shells. 

In the next stanza here come those "D" sounds again in full force:

And when at Night - Our good Day done -
I guard My Master’s Head -
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow - to have shared -

To guard, or protect, is one of poetry’s powers. (Last night at the Poetry Project’s 2025 New Year’s Day Marathon reading, Jim Behrle, in the wee hours late night, read a very short poem that made this point. Today it is on my mind, and its sentiment is similar to Dickinson's:

Protection Spell for the USA

Oompa loompa doopity dee
Your poetry will protect me.

Oompa loompa doopity do
My poetry will protect you.)

Sharing an Eider Duck pillow points toward intimacy, but the poet makes the difficult distinction that guarding the beloved, the gun-like hardness of that, is even more important than the softness of a shared pillow. Dickinson is fiercely protective of her beloved.

To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -
None stir the second time -
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -
Or an emphatic Thumb -

To foe of His (Yours) Dickinson is deadly foe. She is a hell of a shot. Her poetry aims to kill. Are you dangerous? Then get ready to face down Dickinson’s fire. Prepare to reckon with her emphatic thumb. 

Though I than He - may longer live
He longer must - than I -
For I have but the power to kill,
Without - the power to die -

This is the most difficult stanza to unravel. Here’s how I make sense of it. If the poem is the gun, it can’t die. (It is, after all, merely words on a page.) It can only kill. But it desperately wants to keep its Master (read: reader) alive. Since you, as a living breathing human with a heart-beat, are fragile, and have the "power to die," then the poem wants you to outlive it. You must try to outlive the necessity of this poem so you may use your locked potential to protect others in turn.


       -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Notes:

It's interesting that the poem just before this one in fascicle 34, Fr763, overtly chooses hate over love. This poem skates awfully close to hate. But, in my reading at least, what is hated is the very thing which obstructs love.  It champions the murder of ignorance for the sake of love. 

I had no time to Hate—

I had no time to Hate—
Because The Grave would hinder Me—
And life was not so
Ample I
Could finish—Enmity

Nor had I time to Love—
But since
Some Industry must be—
The little Toil of Love—
I thought
Be large enough for Me—



      -Fr763, J478, fascicle 34, 1863

The two stanzas reflect one another. Each shines a light on the flip side. Life is a choice between hate and love. But it's a bogus choice.

The poem is comparing the two sides to make a point. I picture it shaking its head at the reader. Really, you have this little time left and you are going to use it for hating? To what end? You’re never going to get to the end of that hate. So what are you doing? How are you going to choose to expend the little energy that you have left? 

It has to be loving, right? But love means, for starters, not hating. Not hating starts with forgiving, though, and forgiving is hard. It's "toil." This poem is pointing toward something difficult. The things that disappoint us disappoint us terribly. But we have a choice. Forgiving is a choice. We have little time left to make it.

I think of Prospero in The Tempest. When his every third thought is on death, he drops his rage, which also means dropping his powerful magic, and chooses to forgive. He would rather die in peace than have all the power in the world. 

This poem reminds us that you must toil for love, and that, considering the clock, it is better to start sooner than later.

Woman by Leonardo Da vinci

Note: Emily rhymes herself throughout this poem.




Emily:




Emnity




Hinder me




Industry




Ample I




Enough for me

Promise This—When You be Dying—

Promise This—When You be Dying—
Some shall summon Me—
Mine belong Your latest Sighing—
Mine—to Belt Your Eye—

Not with Coins—though they be Minted
From an Emperor's Hand—
Be my lips—the only Buckle
Your low Eyes—demand—

Mine to stay—when all have wandered—
To devise once more
If the Life be too surrendered—
Life of Mine—restore—

Poured like this—My Whole Libation—
Just that You should see
Bliss of Death—Life's Bliss extol thro'
Imitating You—

Mine—to guard Your Narrow Precinct—
To seduce the Sun
Longest on Your South, to linger,
Largest Dews of Morn

To demand, in Your low favor
Lest the Jealous Grass
Greener lean—Or fonder cluster
Round some other face—

Mine to supplicate Madonna—
If Madonna be
Could behold so far a Creature—
Christ—omitted—Me—

Just to follow Your dear future—
Ne'er so far behind—
For My Heaven—
Had I not been
Most enough—denied?


     -Fr762, J648, Fascicle 34, 1863

This poem basically says: Promise me when you are dying you will send someone to get me so that I may hear your last sigh, so I may be the one to close your eyes for the last time with my lips. When everyone else has wandered, I will stay and surrender completely to you, which will in turn restore my life and give life to you. My whole being will be poured into you like a libation to the Gods, so that dying will seem like bliss to you because you are seeing yourself reflected in my love. It will be mine to guard the narrow precinct of your grave, and then seduce the sun and the dew to favor the earth you are buried under so that the jealous grass upon you does not grow fonder of some other face. And it will be mine to pray to Madonna for your soul, if there even is a Madonna who will listen to one who has omitted (or been omitted by) her own son, Christ. I will be right behind you in death, and if you are there, then it will be heaven. Promise me this, for have I not been mostly denied?

If it had been written in prose like this, it would still be an amazing letter to receive, but Dickinson takes these thoughts and makes them not only musically beautiful, but also weirds them in all kinds of interesting ways. 

Let's zoom in and think about it line by line.

Promise This—When You be Dying—
Some shall summon Me—

We all need love, and, when we read Dickinson, we receive it by assuming the position of the "You" who is reading the poem. Dickinson’s poems are written, expressly, to an unnamed reader and points toward them with all of their passion. Since that "You" is unnamed, we may more easily assume it. That’s powerful. In Dickinson this love can hit you like a blast of water from a fire hose. Sometimes it knocks you over.

There is a primal part of our brain, the deepest part perhaps, which reads the “you” in the poem as the self, and thereby this turns into a love poem by one of the greatest that has ever lived written to you. It is literally addressing you. Shakespeare's sonnets function in a similar way. 

For the love coming from the "I" to feel real, it must be convincingly singular. What makes the “I” in a Dickinson poem so singular are the idiosyncrasies in the language. Dickinson's poetry is beyond the idiosyncratic though. It’s so personal that it is inimitable. 

Look, for instance, at the decisions she makes in the first two lines here. Why does Dickinson use “be” instead of “are” in that first line? It’s a surprising choice. Perhaps it is to bring more attention to the process of "being." Being is juxtaposed to dying. How can you “be” the very process of un-being?

And then, how about the surprising choice of the adjective “some" in the second line. With the simple addition of that "UM" sound you have that PROM/ SOME/ SUM rhythm which sets up the "M" sound of that "Me." Also, the line is funnier that way. You better not just send one person to summon me, my beloved. To insure I get there, send more than one, send "some."

The oddities are, with Dickinson, in service to a more defined, and thus deeper, meaning.

Mine belong Your latest Sighing—
Mine—to Belt Your Eye—

”Latest” has a doubleness here, meaning both “your most recent” and “your very last.” "Sighing" has a double meaning too. It is sensually romantic, if "latest" means most recent, and sadly wistful if it means very last. The lines can be read as signalling both the current passion and future loss at once.

"Mine," which is repeated twice in this stanza, and then four more times through the poem, is part of the romance. The reader, who is being intimately spoken to, is being cherished. 

And speaking of idiosyncrasies, how about the idea of belting the eye? Who else would think of that? You belt the waist, not the eye. The only way you belt an eye, normally, is by hitting it, as in, "The boxer belted him in the eye." To insinuate violence inside so sincere a poem is funny, and perhaps hints at something darker. More on this later.

But “belt,” the way Emily means it first, is to close the eyelids over the pupils. This is a tender image, the now senseless eyes being closed for the last time by the beloved. 

I would guess this poem was written to Sue. If so, it's wonderful, and ironic, that it was Sue who was there at the end to close Emily's eyes rather than the other way around. I wonder if she had this poem in mind as she was doing so? 

Not with Coins—though they be Minted
From an Emperor's Hand—
Be my lips—the only Buckle
Your low Eyes—demand—

The poet is not going to close your eyes with coins, in the old pagan way, even if those coins are “minted from an Emperor's Hand.” The Empire, and its riches, are not as good as my lips would be, she says. A kiss to shut the eyes of the dead is such a strange and gothic thing to imagine, but also intimate and tender in the extreme.

Is “buckle” in the third line a pun of “buck,” meant to to follow the monetary sense of “coin”? To watch the mind of Dickinson move, in both sense and sound, is a marvelous thing.

And how about the adjective “low” here? There is so much possible meaning in that simple word, which gets an extra emphasis when it is repeated a second time in this poem. "Low" as in dying, as lying and looking up, as in humble, its all there. 

There is a sense created with belting and buckling here of tying something down. This gives a tinge of possessiveness to the poem, to that repetition of "mine." You see this idea continued in the next stanza, with its theme of “staying.” There is a sneaking intrusion of the dark side to such extreme love that enters the poem. Seen from one angle, this poem, from the dying person’s eyes say, might be a kind of nightmare. 

This poem, which is the most romantic love poem possible, is, therefore, also a kind of cautionary tale. How can it be both at once? It’s both an expression of the love we all dream of having, and, at the same time, one that exposes the fear of being smothered by another's love.

Mine to stay—when all have wandered—
To devise once more
If the Life be too surrendered—
Life of Mine—restore—

Two more “mines.” They are like land mines in the poem, little explosions on the page whenever your eyes step on them. There will be six "Mines" all told before this strange and morbid valentine of a poem comes to an end. And there are four uses of "My."

In that "if" there is a question posed that underlies the tension of the poem. What does it mean to be "too surrendered" to somebody? And what exactly is surrendered? What exactly is restored? 

The word “devise” is an odd one here, which is complicated by the syntax. To devise is to “plan” or “invent.” How do you “devise” if a life be too surrendered? The more you think about it, the more odd it becomes. The word seems like it should be “decide” or “divine” instead of “devise.” Both of those words make more sense. 

To devise, though, gives us a sense of the will to love being one that is created by the lover. I think of the prayer of St. Francis. "It is in loving that we are loved, in dying that we are born to eternal life.” It is in surrendering that we are restored, but we have to "devise" this "once more." We have to invent it, to plan it, to make it happen, over and over again. 

Poured like this—My Whole Libation—
Just that You should see
Bliss of Death—Life's Bliss extol thro'
Imitating You—

My whole life gets extended into “My Whole Li...bation." Libation is used here in its original sense of a drink poured as an offering to a deity. It is in this pouring of the self into other that you see, in the bliss of dying, the bliss of the living praise by the one imitating, or, becoming, you. I think of that line in "The Tempest" about how Miranda and Ferdinand have “changed eyes.”  The love exchanged makes death bliss for the dying one through the complete surrender of the beloved one still living. That is just the most exquisite thought. Poetry does not get more romantic that that.

Though, on the flip side, that word "imitate," if we are going with our nightmare counter-reading, is worth considering. It hints at a loss of self, a surrendering that has gone too far.

Mine—to guard Your Narrow Precinct—
To seduce the Sun
Longest on Your South, to linger,
Largest Dews of Morn

There is that word “Mine” again, though now it is the realm of the corpse that is being possessed by the living. Your “Narrow Precinct” is meant to refer to the grave here. The word "narrow" hints at something claustrophobic, something closing in. 

"Seduce" is a surprising word here, and plays into the "sighing" romance of this poem, but also into the sense of possessiveness.

The poet is going to seduce the sun itself to shine longer on the grave, and to induce the dews in the morning to linger. I’m not sure what double meanings there may be in "Your South" here, except that South invokes a sunnier region. Everything in Dickinson, including the four directions, are imbued with a book-worth of meaning. 

“Largest” is another surprising adjective here. Who else but Dickinson would use the word “largest” to describe “dews?" When read out loud our ear is apt to hear "Largest dues."

To demand, in Your low favor
Lest the Jealous Grass
Greener lean—Or fonder cluster
Round some other face—

There’s the second “demand” of this poem, or really the third if you include “promise” in the first line as a kind of demand. For someone who is surrendering themselves to another, there sure is a lot of demanding going on. The beloved makes the dying promise that he/she will summon her. Then there is a demand that the dying one’s low eyes demand the lips of the beloved. Now the beloved is demanding again, this time from nature herself, favor for the dead, that the greenest grass may grow on this grave.

We get another hint of the dark side of all of this possessiveness with the word "jealous." It’s intoned here in a way that honors the dead, but it resonates in this poem in another way. 

There is a part of me that reviles looking at the dark possessive undertones in this poem. I want to just see the romance in it. It’s so wonderfully strange, the idea of seducing the sun and dew to make the grass greenest over the beloved's resting place. I want to just bask in that sunny green hill the poet is creating for me and ignore the shadow.

But here that shadow comes in the last two stanzas.

Mine to supplicate Madonna—
If Madonna be
Could behold so far a Creature—
Christ—omitted—Me—

Another “Mine” and the word that spins out from this one is “Madonna.” The speaker here is telling the beloved that when they die she wants to pray to Mary on his/her behalf, if there is a Madonna who would listen to (behold) someone who has been omitted (rejected?) by Christ. The syntax of that last line makes it hard to decide just who has omitted whom. The sense I get from the line though is that Emily would pray to Mary on behalf of her beloved, if Mary would even listen to someone who has been rejected by (or has rejected) her son. What is this idea doing in this poem? It is part of a larger argument with God we can trace throughout Dickinson's poetry as a whole, and which appears to often involve an argument with the unquestioned belief held by the beloved.

Just to follow Your dear future—
Ne'er so far behind—
For My Heaven—
Had I not been
Most enough—denied?

The end of this poem, the beloved may be going to heaven, but the poet is not so sure if she will be following. For the poet the beloved is "My Heaven." Will she be able to follow him/her into the after-life? If not, this especially stings, since in life itself she has often felt denied by the other. There is a sense here then that the beloved, in life, was not the "mine" of the poet at all, but largely refused her. This throws a shadow over the rest of the poem. The poem seems to be saying, "In life you rejected me, so just let me be there, at least, to see over your dying."

But it also seems to be asking, at the same time, "If all of this surrendering is unrequited, is it worth it?" The poet’s closing question makes you wonder.

Six "Mines" throughout this poem, and yet at the end, we are left with the sense of denial, both from God and from the beloved.

And yet? This poem still loves its reader completely, unconditionally, despite the painful question.


       -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

P.S. I always love to see how words tumble out of words in Dickinson. That word “mine" appears to be the key word from which so much of the sound of this poem derives. You can hear it in the first line, "proMIse this wheN" In the fifth line it gives birth to the words “coin” and “minted." In the last line the word is echoed one last time, "Most eNough deNIed."