They won't frown always—some sweet Day

They won't frown always—some sweet Day
When I forget to tease—
They'll recollect how cold I looked
And how I just said "Please."

Then They will hasten to the Door
To call the little Girl
Who cannot thank Them for the Ice
That filled the lisping full.

        F923, J874, sheet 13, 1865

This poem is slippery and difficult to get a grasp on. Let's plunge into its ice-cold meaning.

My initial reading of this poem was from the point of view of a little girl in trouble who is imagining how much she’ll be missed when she’s dead. The second reading is about a girl who is angry for being violently punished for teasing. 

In the first interpretation the line “When I forget to tease” is a euphimism for “When I’m dead.” The biggest clue to this reading is probably “They'll recollect how cold I looked.” How can you not think of a corpse when you read this line, especially knowing Emily's penchant for having the narrator of the poem speak from beyond the grave? In this narrative the girl can no longer say thank you because she’s dead. The ice at the end was the ice she was given by the mourning parents as she was dying to wet her parched lips and give her final comfort, which comes a little too late.  In this interpretation the point of the poem is to be kinder, because some day the little girl who is annoying to you because of her teasing will be dead. Or something like that. It's a viable reading, but I think it is misleading. (intentionally?)

There is another way to read this narrative, one which I think is more logical using the poem's cryptic clues. This reading is about a little girl who has been teasing her sister and brother, (or maybe her parents), making fun of them by lisping and mocking them. Her siblings out of anger (or her parents for punishment) fill the little girls’ mouth up with ice.

The little girl asks them to stop because the ice is cold. She says “please.” (in both readings that "please" has real pathos, hanging there like it does.) But, alas, the "please" is not heeded, so she runs away. The siblings/parents call out the door to her, but its too late.

The siblings/parents are no longer frowning at the little girl's teasing, now they are smiling, happy the girl is gone on this "sweet" day. 

They won't frown always—some sweet Day

Or is the day "sweet" for the girl because she has gotten away from her tormentors? I think it is more likely meant to be the latter. It's not happy for the siblings/parents, we know, because they are hurrying to the door to call the girl back. 

Then They will hasten to the Door
To call the little Girl

But the girl is gone, and therefore cannot "thank them" for the ice they stuffed into her mouth.

Who cannot thank Them for the Ice
That filled the lisping full.

The "cannot thank them" is meant to sarcastic. The girl does not stick around to "thank" the siblings/parents for this violent act. 

There is a possibility I suppose that the gratitude is meant to be sincere rather than sarcastic, that the chastened girl, who is now homeless(?) has learned her lesson about teasing others,and is grateful for the  lesson. But I don't personally think so. I think Dickinson is baring her teeth. 

This second reading is wildly different from the first reading, and yet I think the first reading is meant to inform the second one in a startling way. The girl who has run away from her torturers is, essentially, dead to them. Or at least they are dead to her.

The line, “They'll recollect how cold I looked” is meant to have a double resonance then. The girl is gone/dead due to torture. The siblings/parents, I think it is implied, are now sorry. 

I tell you this poem was a real head scratcher. I had to do a double-take.

       -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

P.S. This poem reminds me of another one by Ron Padgett. I looked everywhere for this poem and couldn't find it, so I reached out to the poet himself, who sent it along to me. Here it is.

The Value of Discipline

I am very disappointed in you Myron. 

You are a very smart boy, 

and we had high hopes for you. 

And now this. 

I don't know.

Go to your room.

Myron heads toward his room,

but does his head hang low?

No way!

He is looking straight ahead

and feeling a hot black liquid

trickle through his heart. 

Great galleons

bound through the rough seas

and on them bearded men

are shouting sailor things

as if to the wind.

Back in his room

the objects look older.

What joy to make them walk

the plank!

Avast! Avaunt! Splash! Garrr!