My Soul—accused me—And I quailed—

My Soul—accused me—And I quailed—
As Tongue of Diamond had reviled
All else accused me—and I smiled—
My Soul—that Morning—was My friend—

Her favor—is the best Disdain
Toward Artifice of Time—or Men—
But Her Disdain—'twere lighter bear
A finger of Enamelled Fire—

     -Fr793, J753, fascicle 37

Emily Dickinson was her own best critic. Her "Soul" cut her with its "Tongue of Diamond," to the point that she "quailed," and because it cut so deep, no one else's accusations could touch her. She just smiles at anyone else's censure. It is only her own exacting Soul that she is concerned with. It is her "friend," she says. 

And why was it her friend? I suspect it was because it kept her grounded to what is Real, to what is beyond the temporal, beyond the artificial relationship, beyond "Artifice of Time—or Men—" 

And what is Real? I think for Dickinson the Real might be defined as true intimacy in the eternal moment. As she says in a later a poem, all of Dominion is reduced to nothing in comparison to the heart's smallest extent.

This is no small part of why we turn to Dickinson. For true love she suffered no fools, and not least of which herself. 

"Tongue of Diamond" is a great phrase because it conjures up "hard," and "cutting," but also, "precious."  

Why did the poet's Soul accuse her "that morning?" Is Dickinson speaking of a particular incident here, or is "morning" meant to invoke youth? Or is it "morning" because her Soul is waking her up? 

The second stanza begins with a profound idea. "Her favor—is the best Disdain/ Toward Artifice of Time—or Men—" The favor of your Soul is, in itself, so pleasing that you will naturally want to disdain the artificial. The Soul's favor is positive reinforcement.

On the flipside, if you don't disdain the artificial, then you have negative reinforcement to contend with and it would be easier ("lighter") to bear a "finger of Enamelled Fire." Here is another fantastically rich image. A finger suggests someone pointing in accusation. "Enamelled Fire" is a striking oxymoron. Fire is all consuming, but enamel is decorative and even protective. So here Dickinson is combining the destructive and the ornamental, fusing burning pain with surface perfection. 

Be quiet and listen to your Soul. Dickinson makes it seem like the easy and obvious choice here, but as we all know, it is anything but. Still, a poem like this, paid close attention to, brings us a little closer to the Soul's favor. And what more could we ask for?

      -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Note: 

1. It is worth thinking about this poem in relation to the famous one about the Soul selecting Her Own Society. For an excellent discussion of that poem see Prowling Bee Fr409. 

2. This is the last poem of Fascicle 37. The first poem in the fascicle, Fr773, also refers to a "friend," though the "friend" of that poem is a Him rather than a Her. You would expect a word like "friend" to be capitalized in a Dickinson poem, but it is lower case in both poems. It is perhaps significant that this fascicle is book-ended by two friends, a shapeless He who visits the poet, and a She, who is her very Soul.