The Birds reported from the South —

The Birds reported from the South —
A News express to Me —
A spicy Charge, My little Posts —
But I am deaf — Today —

The Flowers — appealed — a timid Throng —
I reinforced the Door —
Go blossom for the Bees — I said —
And trouble Me — no More —

The Summer Grace, for Notice strove —
Remote — Her best Array —
The Heart — to stimulate the Eye
Refused too utterly —

At length, a Mourner, like Myself,
She drew away austere —
Her frosts to ponder — then it was
I recollected Her —

She suffered Me, for I had mourned —
I offered Her no word —
My Witness — was the Crape I bore —
Her — Witness — was Her Dead —

Thenceforward — We — together dwelt —
I never questioned Her —
Our Contract
A Wiser Sympathy


     -FR780, J743, Fascicle 37, 1863

This poem gets at the idea that when one is grieving, beauty is not always welcome, but sympathy is. 

Let's take it stanza by stanza.

The Birds reported from the South —
A News express to Me —
A spicy Charge, My little Posts —
But I am deaf — Today —

On the surface meaning of this poem, these birds are heading north for the summer, and the reports are the songs they bring. But the idea of something being “reported from the South,” a “News express,” suggests to me the Civil War. And the “spicy Charge” as well as the"report from the South" makes me think of the charge and report from a gun. Even “Posts,” perhaps, carries a hint of the posting of soldiers. The “I am deaf” at the end could be from refusing to hear, but it could also be from the report of guns!

I think it is possible that the woman dealing with “her dead” late in the poem is meant to be a mother or wife who had lost someone in the Civil War, which was raging when this poem was written. One of Emily and her brother Austin’s good friends, Frazer Stearns, had been killed in March of 1862. My guess is that Dickinson wrote this in the summer of 1862, as she was grieving for Frazer.

The Flowers — appealed — a timid Throng —
I reinforced the Door —
Go blossom for the Bees — I said —
And trouble Me — no More —

This stanza seems to me to be about the rejection of romance. I’m reading these lines as saying that suitors appealed to the author, timid as they were, but that she firmly shuts the door to them. Go blossom for someone else! Don’t bother me. The idea of shutting the door to love interests, and then reinforcing it (!) seems to be the impetus of this stanza. It's hard not to think of Dickinson's increasingly reclusive nature when you read those lines.

The Summer Grace, for Notice strove —
Remote — Her best Array —
The Heart — to stimulate the Eye
Refused too utterly —

The pain felt in the “Heart” will not let the eye enjoy beauty, or the flourishing of “Summer Grace.” The dearth of winter would be a more appropriate setting. That word “Grace” here is loaded and you can see why in the poem just previous to this one in the fascicle, “The Grace—Myself—might not obtain—” That line can be read as Dickinson refusing Grace, which is a motif we see in much of Dickinson’s poetry. But, paradoxically, by refusing Grace, Dickinson is able to confer it, through empathy, to the mourning woman. 

At length, a Mourner, like Myself,
She drew away austere —
Her frosts to ponder — then it was
I recollected Her —

In the fascicle, Dickinson provides an alternative to “I recollected Her,” which reads, “I rose to comfort Her.” I like this alternative, as it gives reason for the the fellow mourner to “suffer” the author. There is something touching about Dickinson reaching out to comfort the mourner. Why she goes with “recollected” instead, I’m not sure. Maybe because recollecting is a kind of remembering. It’s almost as if Dickinson is remembering herself. It’s a truer sympathy. To comfort someone has just a hint of condescension, but to "recollect" has none.

She suffered Me, for I had mourned —
I offered Her no word —
My Witness — was the Crape I bore —
Her — Witness — was Her Dead —

"I offered her no word —"  Wise advice. When someone is grieving, listening goes much further than any words could.

Crape is a black fabric often used for mourning dresses. An alternative to “Crape” provided by Dickinson in the fascicle is “Black.” I like that you can read this line as saying that the witnessing itself is the sign of mourning. My Witness — was the Black I bore —  Just witnessing someone else's pain, bearing witness, is meaningful. 

I think of Johnny Cash, the Man in Black, here. When asked why he wore black, Cash said he did it "on behalf of the poor and hungry, the prisoner who has long paid for his crime, and those who have been betrayed by age or drugs. With the Vietnam War as painful in my mind as it was in most other Americans, I wore it 'in mourning' for the lives that could have been' ... Apart from the Vietnam War being over, I don't see much reason to change my position ... The old are still neglected, the poor are still poor, the young are still dying before their time, and we're not making many moves to make things right. There's still plenty of darkness to carry off.” Dickinson was sensitive in this poem to the horrors of the Civil War just as Cash was to the Vietnam War.

Ironically, Dickinson, a few years after this poem was written, began to dress only in white, so that now she is as famous for wearing white as Cash became for wearing black. Make of that what you will.

Thenceforward — We — together dwelt —
I never questioned Her —
Our Contract
A Wiser Sympathy

The idea that somehow “thenceforward" these two women dwelt together is powerful. There is a kind of marriage that happen here, complete with a “Contract.” The contract is a sympathy, sadder, perhaps, but wiser. Still, that dwelling together itself is a “bond,” and in that bond is a kind of transcending love that lifts this poem into a place of healing.

The “I never questioned Her” line is also worth noting. There is something private about grief. Adults sharing parallel but private grief reminds me of way toddlers share parallel but private play, only it’s the other end of the spectrum.

I take from this that it is best to show the sign of our grief, without talking about it, or asking another to discuss theirs. It’s ironic because Dickinson scholars spend so much time “questioning” the particulars of Dickinson’s life. There is so much grief in her poems. Perhaps the “Crape," or "witness” the poems bear is enough. No need to know the particulars. Dickinson’s poems understand our pain, and that is a large part of why so many of us “suffer them,” and, indeed, why we love them. “Thenceforward — We — together dwelt —”

      -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Victorian crape mourning dress