Our little Kinsmen—after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.
A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.
As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.
-F932, J885, sheet 15, 1865
I’m surprised this is not one of the more famous poems. It’s funny and dark, sweet and sour, signature Dickinson.
Our little Kinsmen—after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
We start with a riddle. It’s a pretty simple one though and if you haven't figured it out by the first stanza, then you probably will by the time you get to the bird breakfasting in the second. Worms are our kinsmen. On one hand this implies a kinship among all living things (sweet) but on the other, the poet is comparing us to worms (sour).
If we are like worms, we can begin to ask a question here. Do we also come out “after Rain”? What does it mean to come out after rain? Does it mean we are metaphorically tired of the solitary pain (rain) and long for the open communion of the sun?
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.
Pink and pulpy. What a pair of descriptors for humanity. Together it sounds repulsive. And why is the ground “tepid?” It’s like an alien Yelp review of humanity. "I checked out the humans and found them to be pink, pulpy and tepid. Zero stars.” (It reminds me of Thomas Hobbes review of life, “nasty brutish and short.")
A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.
This pink, pulpy and tepid worms, our kin, seem "needless" to the poet until she notices that the worms make an excellent breakfast for birds. The implication is that we humans, if we can at least provide sustenance for the “birds,” may be worthwhile after all.
This begs the question of what it might it mean, metaphorically, to give ourselves up to feed the birds? One answer might be in the song-like nature of Poetry. Emily, in her poems, is giving the “higher nature” in each of us, our inner bird, poems to sing. She is feeding us the poetic sustenance of Truth and Beauty.
But anything that adds purpose to our lives, that gives us wings, may do. How to do that is a question each of us must answer for ourselves.
As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
This is a pithy way to say, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” I’m judging the worms, and, by comparison, humanity itself, says the poet, but am I not human? And it is perhaps even implied that we are worse than the worms, because at least the worms aren't judging anyone.
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.
Is it the worm or poet who is "left... with Modesties enlarged"? It's neat how Dickinson's use of grammar here conflates ourselves and the worms.
This realization (this... “Angle”?) of being comparable to, and indeed worse than, the Angle Worm is what gives us humility. Humility shows us Truth and Truth, set in the frame of Beauty, gives us poetry.
As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
This is a pithy way to say, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” I’m judging the worms, and, by comparison, humanity itself, says the poet, but am I not human? And it is perhaps even implied that we are worse than the worms, because at least the worms aren't judging anyone.
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.
Is it the worm or poet who is "left... with Modesties enlarged"? It's neat how Dickinson's use of grammar here conflates ourselves and the worms.
This realization (this... “Angle”?) of being comparable to, and indeed worse than, the Angle Worm is what gives us humility. Humility shows us Truth and Truth, set in the frame of Beauty, gives us poetry.
I’m reminded of a line from the new Odyssey film by Christopher Nolan. “The clearest view of man is from below.“ Odysseus becomes reduced to a humble beggar at the end of his Odyssey and therefore can see mankind for what it is. But here, Dickinson gives us a gorgeous metaphor for what we can aspire to be, a humble banquet for the song birds.
This poem pairs well with an earlier one, F359:
A Bird came down the Walk—
He did not know I saw—
He bit an Angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,
And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass—
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass—
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all around—
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head—
Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer Home—
Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam—
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon
Leap, plashless as they swim.
The rain/pain drives us out to the sun where we can be seen and, therefore enjoyed, by the birds, giving them sustenance for flight and song. We can offer the bird only crumbs, but it may be enough for him to "unroll his feathers" and row softer home, plashlessly dividing the "Everywhere of Silver."
-/)dam Wade l)eGraff
This poem pairs well with an earlier one, F359:
A Bird came down the Walk—
He did not know I saw—
He bit an Angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,
And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass—
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass—
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all around—
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head—
Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer Home—
Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam—
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon
Leap, plashless as they swim.
The rain/pain drives us out to the sun where we can be seen and, therefore enjoyed, by the birds, giving them sustenance for flight and song. We can offer the bird only crumbs, but it may be enough for him to "unroll his feathers" and row softer home, plashlessly dividing the "Everywhere of Silver."
-/)dam Wade l)eGraff
Very beautiful poem!! After my first reading, I didn't appreciate it much, because I didn't understand certain meanings (although I liked some images, like A Pink and Pulpy multitude). Your explanation helped me understand it more completely and appreciate its beauty. I especially liked the way you explained that the worms are useful as food for the birds, because they sacrifice themselves for something more gentle and pure, and likewise here lies the value of men, of human life, when we sacrifice, dedicate ourselves to something superior, gentle, pure etc. and that this thing might be poetry (because there is the analogy bird-poetry) or any other noble goal. When I first read the poem I didn't understand that Emily meant such a thing (how intelligent she was!!) but your beautiful explanation helped me!! Thanks and have a nice holiday!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Harry, that gives me heart. The wonderful thing about writing about each poem is that in the process the poem slowly opens up. I'm happy that this in turn helps the poem blossom for you too. Here's to noble goals!
ReplyDeleteI love the hesitancy in the line, “I pondered, may have judged.” Does that “may” reflect that the previous act of judgment is hard to admit? Or does it reflect the poet’s newfound modesty about achieving any complete understanding? Either way, the use of “may” captures, I think, the humble, open turn of mind of the poet — after witnessing that bird breakfast on the worm.
ReplyDeleteLincoln used this same “may” tone in his public speeches during these same years Dickinson was writing (e.g. “With firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right,” in the Second Inaugural). It surprises me that Dickinson did not mention him in her letters (as far as I know). They share such a similar eloquence, founded on a deep personal commitment to modesty…
Beautiful point about the humility exhibited in the hesitancy.
ReplyDeleteThe absence of Lincoln is odd, now that you've mentioned it.
I'll take Whitman's "I am neither modest nor immodest."
Your interpretation reminds me of Pasternak’s verses.
ReplyDeleteЖизнь ведь тоже только миг,
Только растворенье
Нас самих во всех других
Как бы им в даренье.
Life is also but a swift
Moment to dissolve
In the others as a gift
Of ourselves to all.
However, think it might be useful to imagine what Emily describes from the worm’s point of view. It comes out after rain so as not to drown. It wants to save his life. Some little bird spots it, comes up, and eats it. That’s it.
From our human perspective, this gives meaning to the worm’s life. Birds seem more beautiful to us than worms, and their lives are more valuable.
Often, we feel like this unimportant worm. Life sucks, and then we die. See Fr910.
Maybe God sees our lives as meaningless, or maybe he sees some higher purpose in our plight. We don’t know.
"From a human perspective, this gives meaning to the worm's life." I'd say from a biological perspective it does too. And you could say the same thing about humans, useful as compost. But I think Dickinson is thinking more metaphysically here.
ReplyDeleteLife sucks and then we die from the worm's point of view, may be true, but Dickinson is stopping to consider the bird's eye view too. "A needless life" is reconsidered. It begs the question of what we do with this life to make it nourishing for others. The Pasternak poem is apt. Thank you for that! What a way to put it. Nice translation too. Yours?
No, the translation is not mine. Here is the whole poem:
ReplyDeletehttps://ruverses.com/boris-pasternak/the-landlord/12431/#audio