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
What a wonderful eulogy for Jimmy Carter, who died yesterday:
ReplyDelete"This poem reminds us that you must toil for love, and that, considering the clock, it is better to start sooner than later."
‘I had no time to Hate’ seems a strange poem. ED was 32, past her prime, prone to illness, and slim prospects of reaching three score and ten. The two human loves of her life had failed: intimacy with Sue was just a memory, and Wadsworth had moved to San Francisco.
ReplyDeleteStanza 1 leaves us hopeful because she knew life was too short for hate or enmity. Suddenly, in Stanza 2, ED switched gears. She realized her feelings for Rev. Wadsworth were not real “Love”: “Nor had I time to Love -”. What she truly loves is poetry, her “little Toil of Love -”.
F602
ReplyDeleteWhen Choice of Life — is past —
There yet remains a Love
Its little Fate to stipulate — //
How small in those who live —
For ED, death first occurred on May 1, 1862, when Rev. Charles Wadsworth, his family, and two servants embarked from New York harbor, bound for San Francisco. For her, “Choice of Life- is past / There yet remains a Love / Its little Fate to stipulate — // How small in those who live —”.
ED tells us her “little Fate” 161 poems later:
F763
“I had no time to Hate— //
Nor had I time to Love—
But since
Some Industry must be—
The little Toil of Love—
I thought
Be large enough for Me—”
ED’s “little Toil of Love” was composing 1026 more poems before her second death.
ReplyDeleteED has convinced me that virtually all of her poems have two or more levels of meaning: poetic and historical. These levels cannot be separated into two ivory towers, as most academics do.
The reason for her instant and continuing public adulation (1890 - present) was and is, by far, poetic. She is one of the "Greats" that she always dreamed to be, despite her lifelong refusal to publish. That refusal freed her from criticism and allowed her to explore the outer boundaries of poetic power.
Her refusal to publish was only possible because of the lifelong financial and daily social/housekeeping support of her family, especially her father and sister, respectively. Throughout her life, the Dickinsons hired servants, first Negro and later Irish, some of whom became much more than housekeepers for ED.
My point is that love of ED's poems can be enriched by understanding both poetic and historical levels of her sound and sense. We impoverish ourselves if we ignore their historical foundations.