When we stand on the tops of Things—
And like the Trees, look down—
The smoke all cleared away from it—
And mirrors on the scene—
Just laying light—no soul will wink
Except it have the flaw—
The Sound ones, like the Hills—shall
stand—
No lightning, scares away—
The Perfect, nowhere be afraid—
They bear their dauntless Heads,
Where others, dare not go at Noon,
Protected by their deeds—
The Stars dare shine occasionally
Upon a spotted World—
And Suns, go surer, for their Proof,
As if an axle, held –
F343
(1862) 242
It’s a bit unnerving to imagine
the dead saints perched up in heaven looking down at us on earth with the aid
of lights and mirrors that reveal our flaws. Those of us who are spotted will
seem to “wink” rather than glow with a bright pure light. Those goody-goody
“Perfect” folks will trot about in the full light of noon holding their
“dauntless Heads” up high. They shine true and pure—no winking for them!
But thank goodness for those blessed folk because
otherwise we might just lose the sun. Only the stars would come around to
“occasionally” illuminate our “spotted World.” But since those “Sound ones” can
withstand the scrutiny of even the brightest light, the “Suns” (not sure what
to make of this plural) can make their rounds with more surety. The “Proof,” or
soundness, of the Perfect is as good as an axle to hold the Sun in place.
Otherwise—who knows?—it might fly away into the dark spaces of the cosmos.
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Not enough "Perfect" in Sodom, so it was destroyed. Painting by John Martin, 1852 |
Dickinson’s use of the sun here is interesting. She
has used the sun before as a symbol of intellectual and spiritual illumination,
as a personification for God or ideal and worshipful male being, and simply as
the epitome of day and light. But in this poem the sun has a rather fragile
quality. Far from being a life giver/life sustainer, it doesn’t do well if its
world is spotted with imperfect souls. There is an interaction and even
interdependency implied between the creator and the created. The risen saints,
however, don’t seem constrained. They now can see the world clearly, spots and
all. I’m reminded of “I taste a liquor never brewed,” where the saints run to
the windows to “see the little Tippler / Leaning against the – Sun!” They haven’t come to judge, only to wonder.
And that may be Dickinson’s
message here. The spotted world is an interesting one, but it takes the saints
to keep us all tethered on our course. Maybe she was thinking of the angels who
visited Abraham and agreed that if even ten righteous people were found in
Sodom and Gomorrah God would not destroy it. Alas, not enough righteous people
were found and the wicked cities went up in fire and brimstone.
Comment: It's not much of a stretch to imagine ED understanding that every star is a sun, hence that plural. The last stanza of "Safe in Their Alabaster Chambers: imagines many other "firmaments" rowing by.
ReplyDeleteIs there a typo in your copy of the poem, however, l.8? Franklin's ED has the noun as "lightning," which makes more sense. (Hate to offer a correction on a project I so admire, but it's all about scholarly community, isn't it? Or is that l.8 noun in dispute and I unaware of it?
Thank you for catching the typo -- I've corrected it. And I think you are right about ED's use of "suns".
DeleteYour analysis brings me to this conclusion: why would we need heaven if life were already heaven on earth?
ReplyDeleteIt seems that the poem is a Bible story.
ReplyDelete