A Drop fell on the Apple Tree—

A Drop fell on the Apple Tree—
Another—on the Roof—
A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves—
And made the Gables laugh—

A few went out to help the Brook
That went to help the Sea—
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls—
What Necklaces could be—

The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads—
The Birds jocoser sung—
The Sunshine threw his Hat away—
The Bushes— flung—

The Breezes brought dejected Lutes—
And bathed them in the Glee—
The Orient showed a single Flag,
And signed the fête away—

    -Fr846, J794, Fascicle 38, 1864

This poem is a welcome relief from the recent run of Franklin-numbered poems. It's like a cool rain falling on a hot desert.

It also brings some fun. Normally rain is seen as a drag, a destroyer of picnics and ender of ballgames, but in Dickinson it's the life of the party, the belle of the ball. The letter downer is transformed into the lifter upper. 

This poem starts just like the rain does, with a single "Drop," which falls on the Apple Tree. Like many lines of Dickinson, this one could be taken alone as a fragment and still have an aura to it. Somehow from that one drop comes apples, and, by extension, all of the fruit in the world, and by further extension all that apples represent in our mythology. And yet it is also just a single drop of water falling on, ostensibly, a real apple tree.

The second line has plenty of metaphoric weight too. Another drop falls on the Roof. The roof offers protection and there you are, under it, dry. The poet Marie Howe, who won the Pulitzer prize for poetry last year, has an entire poem exploring just this idea of the comfort a tree offers us in protection from the rain. It’s a feeling unto itself.

When the rain comes it starts drop by drop, and then suddenly there are half a dozen. The third line,

A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves—

turns this poem in an orgy of sorts. We have a sudden multiplicity of kissers and kissees. Note the pun of Eaves/Eves here. Coming so soon after “apple tree” it seems likely that Dickinson is playing on the biblical Eve here. The line is transgressive, triply so. First there is the idea of the “fall of man” and all this entails. And, moreover, there is the reveling in the sudden wet soddenness of this fall, and finally, we note, there is no Adam, just Eves!

The final line of the first stanza adds to the merry mirth of the poem. 

And made the Gables laugh—

The rain brings the party, one that will soon become replete with hats and pearl necklaces, with the singing and flinging of spangles.

This joy of laughter leads us to the second the stanza,

A few went out to help the Brook
That went to help the Sea—

The single drop of this poem has made a difference. It has helped the brook help the sea. What a beautiful way to show us what one drop of wet effort may do in this world to be of service. 

We’ve quickly moved from a drop of water to a half dozen drops to a brook to an entire ocean.

Myself Conjectured were they Pearls—

What Necklaces could be—

These lines recall one of my all time favorite Dickinson poems, Fr597, “Tis little I — could care for Pearls —/ Who own the Ample sea —” In both poems there is the idea that the glories of nature outshine the most expensive jewelry. The comparison helps us see the beauty of the raindrops with new eyes.

The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads—

“Hoisted roads” is an intriguing phrase. Why is the road hoisted? It could mean that the dust that had risen (had been hoisted up) is now settled again. But it might also mean that the road has been lifted up by the addition of the rain, a kind of rejuvenation. This second meaning is more in keeping with the lifting of spirits that pervades the rest of the poem. At any rate, it seems like the rain has stopped now. The dust has settled and...

The Birds jocoser sung—

The rain has now stopped and the birds perk up and sing with a bit more spirit. Jocoser is a fun word and fits the vibe of the poem. The sun has now come out, and

The Sunshine threw his Hat away—

The personification in this poem is really helping me see things in a new way. I’ve never thought of the sound of rain on a roof as laughter before. And I’ve never thought of the sun coming out from under a cloud as the sunshine throwing its hat away. I love that the sun doesn’t just put his hat down. He throws it away. It is act of being carefree, like a new graduate throwing her hat after graduation.

The Bushes— spangles flung—

I think it must be the sun that is flinging the spangles on the bush. The sun, peeking out from the clouds, is shining on the wet leaves of the bush. It is as if the bushes are wearing gowns that sparkle in the sunlight.

The sound of the word “spangle” is echoed throughout the poem, in apple, gable, single, flag, flung, glee and even in necklaces and replaced. It’s as if the poem itself were spangled with all those L sounds following consonants.

The Breezes brought dejected Lutes—

And bathed them in the Glee—

The breezes have a sad music in them, "dejected Lutes." This line, perhaps, brings us to the reader of the poem, or even the writer. A breeze has brought our dejected selves to this poem, but this poem has bathed us in glee of rain.

 

We see this idea in the word “help” in the second stanza too. A few drops went to went out to help the Brook/ That went to help the Sea - That word “help” tunes us into the ways this poem is being helpful to us. We can begin to see what the one drop might represent in the poem, or, rather, that this poem represents a drop. This poem lifts us up through its spirit. It may be just a drop, but it becomes part of the brook leading us to a sea of pearls. Our dust has settled. Our dejected songs have been bathed in glee.

The Orient showed a single Flag,
And signed the fête away—

The sun has started to set and the flag of the sunset is now upon the reader, signalling that the party is over. We fall asleep, lifted into dreams.

It's a wonderful way to start Fascicle 38. 


        -/)dam Wade l)eGraff