To this World she returned.

To this World she returned.
But with a tinge of that—
A Compound manner,
As a Sod
Espoused a Violet,
That chiefer to the Skies
Than to himself, allied,
Dwelt hesitating, half of Dust,
And half of Day, the Bride.


    -Fr815, J830, summer 1864. 



The background for this poem is of interest. Thomas Johnson notes: "The copy reproduced above was written in pencil in the summer of 1864. It is addressed "Mrs. Gertrude -" and signed "Emily." On 20 March 1864, Mrs. Vanderbilt was summoned to her back door by cries of distress and accidentally received a pistol shot intended for her maid. Her critical illness but ultimate recovery moved ED to send her two poems, this and the poem that follows."

Imagine, then, being Ms. Vanderbilt and receiving this poem after having gone through such an ordeal.

Did Emily just assume that Mrs. Vanderbilt had returned from her critical state with “a tinge of that?” I suppose anyone who almost dies, especially from the result of a violent crime, would likely experience a bit of “that,” no?

And what is “that?" It’s a loaded question. I think it refers to whatever is on the other side of the veil. THAT. In this poem Emily turns that into something beautiful.

If that is whatever is beyond, than this is the sod, here and now. The sod typically refers to the piece of ground that is laid over a grave, and that connotation is here in this poem, but sod also stands in as a metonym for the earthly realm. Therefore, in a near death situation THIS and THAT come together to make “a compound manner.”

The near death experience is likened to a violet that is “espoused” from the sod and is now “chiefer to the skies than to himself allied.” This is a gorgeous idea, that the quality that develops from earthly woe is a flower which is more of the sky than the ground. It redefines the very idea of a flower to me.

Also, the idea of the sod "espousing" a violet is lovely. The soil speaks a flower. Here poetry is invoked. A poem after all is something one espouses. One could think of a poem, then, as a kind of auditory flower, espoused from the prosaic sod of life. 

The word "espouse" carries within it the word spouse too, which sets us up for the idea of the "bride" at the end of the poem. 

 Dwelt hesitating, half of Dust,
And half of Day, the Bride.

There is a restlessness hinted at the end of the poem in that word “hesitating.” The idea of being half married to dust and half to day is a dramatic way of looking at it. Half-bride of dust! What a way to put it. Here's a question though. What does Day represent? Does "day" here represent the heavenly “Skies” the flower is reaching for, or does it represent “life?" It’s ambiguous. The truth lies, somehow, in that ambiguity.

A flower peaks in that moment of hesitation. Next time you look at a flower imagine it “chiefer to the skies” than the sod, a bride hesitating between day and dust. Next, imagine yourself as that flower.

     -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

Violet Girl with Scars and Stars by Hali Kara

Notes:

1. My guess is that this poem was accompanied by a spray of violets. When the coffee table book of Dickinson flower poems, to be sold at florist shops, is put together, this one should be included.

2. In the poem by Hali Kara accompanying the painting above, I read that "Violets heal trauma/ (they say)" Do they say that? Maybe Dickinson was thinking of this when sending Mrs. Vanderbilt the poem. 

3. The idea of a flower being chiefer to the skies than the sod reminds me of this mind-blowing tidbit from the mind of the physicist Richard P. Feynman. "Trees are made of air."