It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon—

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon—
The Flower—distinct and Red—
I, passing, thought another Noon
Another in its stead

Will equal glow, and thought no More
But came another Day
To find the Species disappeared—
The Same Locality—

The Sun in place—no other fraud
On Nature's perfect Sum—
Had I but lingered Yesterday—
Was my retrieveless blame—

Much Flowers of this and further Zones
Have perished in my Hands
For seeking its Resemblance—
But unapproached it stands—

The single Flower of the Earth
That I, in passing by
Unconscious was—Great Nature's Face
Passed infinite by Me—

    -Fr843, J978, sheet 3, 1864

I'm always delighted to come across one of Emily Dickinson’s flower poems. They often seem to have a floral quality to them, as if the poem itself was a kind of flower.  A signature gift that Emily liked to send to her friends was a flower from her garden accompanied with a corresponding poem. In the case of this poem however, I suspect there was no accompanying flower, seeing as to how the flower in the poem has been passed by. Perhaps the poet was emphasizing to some friend that, like the flower in this poem, she took her for granted. In that case this poem would have been sent by itself, perhaps accompanied by an empty ribbon tie.

Judith Farr, in her book “The Gardens of Emily Dickinson,” clues us in that the flower in question here was probably the Hemerocallis or ‘Day-Lily,’ whose flower lasts for one day only, often dropping in the noonday heat.

Hemerocallis, or Day-Lily

Though this may, indeed, be the flower Dickinson was thinking of, for the poet it becomes emblematic for life itself.

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon—

The first line of this poem makes it seem as if what blooms and then drops is noon itself, and not just any noon, but a "Single Noon," which, in poetry parlance, means the Single Noon of your life. Your middle years would be the noon of your life. The Single Noon of your life blooms and then drops.

The Flower—distinct and Red—

The Flower that blooms and drops, then, is the Self, or the Beloved. Since both of these become the reader of the poem, we will refer to the flower as "You." Like the Day-lily, you are distinct, one of a kind, and Red too in the red-blooded vigor and red-flushed cheeks of youth.

I, passing, thought another Noon
Another in its stead

Will equal glow, and thought no More

You, passing through this life, thought there would be another flower of noon, that youth would last forever, that it would keep coming with “equal glow” and then you "thought no more." That "thought no more" is this poem’s wry way of telling us that maybe we should think about it some more. In other words, don’t mindlessly ignore the circumstances of your life.

But came another Day
To find the Species disappeared—

Alas, you are here today and gone tomorrow. This species called by your name comes but once.

The Same Locality—

The same place where you are now, you will someday no longer be.

The Sun in place—no other fraud
On Nature's perfect Sum—

The Sun and all the rest of nature will still be here. The only thing stolen (defrauded) from the total Sum will be you.

Had I but lingered Yesterday—
Was my retrieveless blame—

If I had only lingered Yesterday, says the poet, I would have truly experienced this Flower, but I didn’t and now it is “retrieveless.” 

The poem wants you to listen to this future self and avoid the same sad fate by lingering over the flowers of Today. It's a common theme in poetry. "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may," wrote Robert Herrick. “I loafe and invite my soul. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass,” wrote Walt Whitman, etc, etc.

We have no one to blame for missing the unique flower of life but ourselves.

The word blame carries some import here. Look at the way Dickinson uses rhyme to build up its emphasis. She moves from “bloomed” to “came," to “same,” to  “sum” and finally lands on “blame.”

Much Flowers of this and further Zones
Have perished in my Hands
For seeking its Resemblance—

There are no flowers to replace the one that has been missed, for nothing resembles that one. This reminds me of the ending of Grace Paley’s heartbreaking story, “Samuel.”

“When the policeman knocked at the door and told her about (Samuel's death), Samuel’s mother began to scream. She screamed all day and moaned all night, though the doctors tried to quiet her with pills.

Oh, oh, she hopelessly cried. She did not know how she could ever find another boy like that one. However, she was a young woman and she became pregnant. Then for a few months she was hopeful. The child born to her was a boy. They brought him to be seen and nursed. She smiled. But immediately she saw that this baby wasn’t Samuel. She and her husband together have had other children, but never again will a boy exactly like Samuel be known.”

The fact that “much flowers” have perished in the poet's hands in search for a replacement is chilling. The replacement flowers were killed in the process of being pulled up and compared. Think about this in real world terms. In the passage from Samuel above, you can imagine the collateral damage Samuel’s siblings will suffer, since they will always be compared with Samuel. Or you might think about a widow who remarries, and the psychological burden of the new spouse who must always be compared to the original love.

But unapproached it stands—

Nothing can approach the singular beloved, the original flower. Though it is gone, still "it stands," ghost-like, an unapproachable specter.

The single Flower of the Earth
That I, in passing by
Unconscious was—

In the first line of this last stanza Dickinson phrases it as if it was the whole earth that was the flower which has been passed by. You were here, the poem implies, but you let this flower, your Single Noon, on this Single Earth, pass you by.  You went through this life, this one chance, "unconscious."

Great Nature's Face
Passed infinite by Me—

This day-lily, the very face of nature, your youth, the beloved, our time on earth, has passed you by, irretrievably, gone forever, “passed infinite by.”

Again, I say "You" because that is who the "I" of this poem is. “When I state myself, as the Representative of the Verse – it does not mean – me – but a supposed person,” Dickinson wrote to T.W. Higginson. (L268)  You can see that idea in play in this poem. The “I” is a stand in for all of us, here. There is an admonition from the poet to herself, but also to all selves who inhabit the "I" of this poem, not to remain unconscious amidst the one-of-kind-for-one-time-only splendor of "Great Nature's Face."

        -/)dam Wade l)eGraff