As Sleigh Bells seem in summer

As Sleigh Bells seem in summer
Or Bees, at Christmas show —
So fairy — so fictitious
The individuals do
Repealed from observation —
A Party that we knew —
More distant in an instant
Than Dawn in Timbuctoo.


     Fr801, J981, 1864

Before we move onto the lexical level of this poem, let’s linger inside its lavish music. 

The sound of the opening line has an immortal aura. It reminds me of one of those fragments of Sappho, where the whole poem is alive in one perfect line. 

Let’s zoom in to the interweave of the consonance. The Z sound of “As” repeats in the Z sound of “Bells” and then buzzes again in “Bees” in the following line. The Z sound slides into the S sound of “Sleigh,” which is quickly followed by the little tongue-trip of “L, then hits a “B” sound which bounces us back to the “L” again, which leads us into another Z/S combo, “Bells” and “seem,” and then we get a repeat of S once again with “summer.” With the word “seem” the “M” sound comes into the poem, which is doubled down upon in “summer.” 

Finally the line ends, rhythmically, on a half beat, on the drop into “er,” which sets us up to expect an iambic up beat, but instead we get another down beat of “Or,” in the next line, a break beat, if you will. The two descending beats in a row give us a strong up beat on the word “Bees.” 

That’s a lot of work these consonants are doing to our tongues. You have an abundance of sibilance with that Z>S>Z>S>S combo, you’ve got the bop of a “B” (setting up the B of “Bee” in the second line), and then finally, running underneath of all of this, is the double hum of those mmm sounds. You have a sliding feeling of smooth snake, an ssss feeling, but also an mmm feeling, with something under the surface bubbling up. It hummable and it pops. It’s sinuous and a little sexy. This is the soundscape Dickinson begins with and all of these sonic structures will be picked up in the subsequent lines of this poem.

This audible line presents two things we love: summer and sleigh bells, and proceeds, somehow, to smash them together into one perfect season. Summer AND sleighbells! But alas, we know it’s impossible. For some reason, having to do with the way the seasons work, the two do not belong together.

(This begs a question. Besides the fact that they are for sleds on winter snow, why don’t sleighbells sound right in the summer?)

The sounds of the poem perfectly blend together, but its object and subject are out of season with one another. There’s a disconnect between sound and sense here.

Snow in summer is unsettling. But this idea gets even more strange and disturbing in the next stanza because now we have bees in winter.

The idea of being out of season with someone is one Dickinson has explored before, notably in Fr686. It’s an odd thought. What does it mean to not be of your time?

Brian Wilson, of the Beach Boys, wrote a song about it, “I just wasn't made for these times.” I bring Wilson up because he died today and therefore he's on my mind. But it seems appropriate since we are looking at the musicality of Dickinson's language.  Poetry is song, and though we love words, it is the sounds we love first. The music of both Dickinson and Wilson will ripple into our lives for a long time to come.

I just wasn't made for these times. Brian Wilson. 

Getting back to the poem. In the next line we see that these kinds of seasonal anomalies are described as "Fairy" and "Fictitious." These words have a winking sound, and a subversive meaning. Both words could be seen as a portal into a perfect season. Maybe you can’t have certain things in the real world, but you can still have them in fiction, and you can have them in the realm of fairy magic too, which is the realm of our imaginations.

They are fun words to say together, and for me tip off a kind of acceptance. “So fairy, so fictitious." You almost want to shimmy back and forth as you say it. It doesn't sound completely heart-broken.

The officious latinate sound of the word "fictitious" sets us up for a very different tone in the next few lines,

The individuals do
Repealed from observation —

The words in this poem go from anglo-saxon in the first few lines to latinate in these, and then back again. The late “latin” influence on the poem is ALSO out of sync, out of time, with its opening Anglo-saxon era. Is this meant to be a disconnect too? 

Another reason that occurs to me that these lines are suddenly latinate is that Latin underlies the language of the law: repeal,party, observation.

If a party is getting “repealed,” then my guess is it is Sue. And her husband, Emily’s brother, Austin, a lawyer by the way, is the one taking her away.

Latin has entered the picture, but then it leaves again, taking along with it the beloved, and we are back with the plaintive anglo-saxon of “Dawn” followed by a word that isn't even English, “Timbuctoo.” It’s as if language is finally going all the way back to its very roots, or at least trying to.

The poem carries the idea of heartbreak in it, but the language is fun: “Distant in an instant,” “So fairy, so fictitious,” “Dawn of Timbuctoo,” "Sleighbells seem in summer."

One would think that fun would be repealed along with the beloved, but the delight in the language belies any heartbreak. You believe heartbreak may be imminent, but you also suspect that at some level the lover is, like the bees, still inside the summer of the poet. Or perhaps, at least, those sleighbells can be heard in the poet’s winter.


    -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Currier and Ives, 1853