ED-LarryB

843.1864. 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—

“Much Flowers of this and further Zones
Have perished in my Hands
For seeking its Resemblance—
But unapproached it stands—”
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My biographical interpretation of ‘It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon —’, with ED’s enjamb of Lines 4-5 noted {curly brackets:

1.
It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon —
The Flower — distinct and Red —
I, passing, thought another Noon
Another in its stead {enjambed with L5}

My day-lily bloomed early this morning and lasted til noon, but its half-day reminded me of a half-day four years ago when Reverend Charles Wadsworth rang at noon at my front door. Unlike my day-lily, whose life began early and ended at noon, Wadsworth’s visit began at noon and ended after dark.

2.
Will equal glow. and thought no More
But came another Day
To find the Species disappeared —
The Same Locality —

I thought he would come again, and then I thought no more. But I was wrong, he never returned.

3.
The Sun in place — no other fraud
On Nature’s perfect Sum—
Had I but lingered Yesterday —
Was my retrieveless blame —

Summer sunlight warmed the Earth; no cloud dimmed the sky. Looking back, I realize that half-day was the apogee of my life. If I had only stopped the clock, I might have lived that time again. But I could not, and that was my own fault.

4.
Much Flowers of this and further Zones
Have perished in my Hands
For seeking its Resemblance —
But unapproached it stands —

I’ve tried desperately to find another soul like Wadsworth’s, but each one I find falls short, and I, one by one, lay them in my ebony box and close the lid.

5.
The single Flower of the Earth
That I, in passing by
Unconscious was — Great Nature’s Face
Passed infinite by Me —

The one thing on Earth I want, I had that day, but never since. I was not aware then that I had found, and lost, the love of my life.
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ED’s alternate words and phrases [Lines L10, L15, L19, L20] are in {curly brackets}:

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 {general} 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 {similitude} —
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 —

{L19: Was ignorant that Nature closed}
{L20A: My Opportunity; Line 20B: Went infinite by Me —}

1. In Line 10 I prefer ED’s original word, “perfect” because it begins with a powerful “p”; “general” sounds wishy-washy.
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2. In Line 15 I prefer her alternate word , “similitude” because it alliterates with “seeking”. I prefer her alternate Line 15 because it has eight syllables, which matches Line 13. ED’s original Line 15 has only 7 monosyllables.
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3. I prefer her original Line 19 because it has eight syllables; her alternate Line 19 has a ridiculous 14 syllables.
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4. I prefer her original L20 because her alternate Line 20A, “My Opportunity”, makes no sense and because her original first word, “Past”, packs more power than wimpy “Went”
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In summer 1880, Wadsworth did return to Homestead, and, as evidence of ED’s enduring love for him, here is an 1879 “Calvary” poem (F1485) that affirms her concern for him in a sweet quatrain.

“Spurn the temerity —
Rashness of Calvary —
Gay were Gethsemane
Knew we of Thee —”

“Calvary” and “Gethsemane” are ED’s code names for Wadsworth and herself. She had to be careful in her poems to protect Wadsworth’s reputation and her own privacy. ‘Spurn the temerity —’ (F1485, 1879) is the 12th and last of her “Calvary” poems.

It would not surprise me if ED mailed F1485 to Wadsworth in 1879, though we have no hard evidence that happened because both she and he burned all their mutual letters. The following summer, 1880, he showed up unannounced at her front door:

“Where did you come from,” I said, for he spoke like an Apparition. “I stepped from my Pulpit to the Train” was [his] simple reply, and when I asked “how long,” “Twenty Years” said he with inscrutable roguery – but the loved Voice has ceased.”

Letter JL1040 to Charles Clark, April 15, 1886, exactly one month before she died.

The ED-Wadsworth “love affair” was likely a marriage of two disparate minds who agreed to disagree, both deeply spiritual, one an eloquent conservative Christian minister, the other a world-class agnostic poet. They died close friends, in 1882 and 1886 respectively.

Wadsworth, who was 66 in 1880, apparently made the 500-mile roundtrip from his home in Philadelphia to visit his close friends, James and Charles Clark in Northampton, MA.

ED’s letter (JL1040) tells us Wadsworth gave a sermon at the Clarks’ church and then took the 12-mile train trip to Amherst that afternoon to visit her. His answer to her question, “Twenty Years” was a reference to his previous visit with her in Amherst in summer 1860. ED’s phrase, “inscrutable roguery”, tells me how much ED loved Wadsworth — he was the love of her life.
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ED’S lifelong theme of friends lost to death or moving away runs strong in her letters and poems. At age 14, much too young, she experienced the death of a close friend. She was in an adjoining room when the girl died and she begged the girl’s mother to let her say goodbye one last time.  Unwisely, the mother relented. ED suffered severe fear-of-abandonment anxiety for the rest of her life.
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ED’s “Ebon Box”:

ED used closing the lid of her “Ebon Box” as a metaphor for losing friends, either to death or, more commonly, to alienation. At the end of her life she had no close long-term friends, probably because she had demanded too much of them. (Sewall, R. B, 1974. The Life of Emily Dickinson)

“Historical records indicate that Emily Dickinson’s famous ebony box was gifted to her by George Henry Gould, a close friend and confidant she met while they were both young adults in Amherst.” (Google AI Overview, downloaded 6/15/2026)

This black scarred box is the one Harvard eventually acquired in 1950. From the photo, its dimensions appear to be about 12”x12”x18”:

https://iraf.substack.com/p/dickinson-stops-the-clocks#:~:text=Dickinson%20Stops%20the,it%20was%20%E2%80%9Calive.%E2%80%9D

“It became a personal repository where she quietly stored her private correspondence and hand-sewn packets of poems. After Dickinson died in 1886, her sister Lavinia inherited the chest and discovered the massive cache of nearly 1,800 poems inside, eventually leading to their publication.” (Google AI Overview, downloaded 6/15/2026)

For a fuller explanation of its circuitous journey before it was given to Harvard, see: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DLaMDv_tx3-/

JL189. To John Long Graves, August 1856

“Ah John – Gone? Then I lift the lid to my box of Phantoms, and lay another in, unto the Resurrection – Then will I gather in Paradise, the blossoms fallen here, and on the shores of the sea of Light, seek my missing sands.

Your Coz – Emilie –”

Miller, Cristanne. and Domhnall Mitchell (eds). The Letters of Emily Dickinson (p. 267). Harvard University Press. Kindle Edition

“Emily Dickinson was not referring to the physical death of John Long Graves. Instead, the “event” was his permanent departure from Amherst when he moved away to become the principal of Orford Academy in New Hampshire. This physical separation prompted Dickinson to express deep melancholy, likening her absent friends to memories or “phantoms” in her emotional memory box” (Google AI, downloaded 6/4/2026)

The top of the box reads “EMILY E. AND LAVINIA N. DICKINSON”
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Biographical note:

In summer 1880, Wadsworth did return to Homestead, and, as evidence of ED’s enduring love for him, here is an 1879 “Calvary” poem (F1485) that affirms her concern for him in a sweet quatrain.

“Spurn the temerity —
Rashness of Calvary —
Gay were Gethsemane
Knew we of Thee —”

“Calvary” and “Gethsemane” are ED’s code names for Wadsworth and herself.  She had to be careful in her poems to protect Wadsworth’s reputation and her own privacy. ‘Spurn the temerity —’ (F1485, 1879) is the 12th and last of her “Calvary” poems.

It would not surprise me if ED mailed F1485 to Wadsworth in 1879, though we have no hard evidence that happened because both she and he burned all their mutual letters. The following summer, 1880, he showed up unannounced at her front door:

“Where did you come from,” I said, for he spoke like an Apparition. “I stepped from my Pulpit to the Train” was [his] simple reply, and when I asked “how long,” “Twenty Years” said he with inscrutable roguery – but the loved Voice has ceased.”

Letter 1040 to Charles Clark, April 15, 1886, exactly one month before she died.

The ED-Wadsworth “love affair” was likely a marriage of two disparate minds who agreed to disagree, both deeply spiritual, one an eloquent conservative Christian minister, the other a world-class agnostic poet. They died close friends, in 1882 and 1886 respectively.

Wadsworth, who was 66 in 1880, apparently made the 500-mile roundtrip from his home in Philadelphia to visit his close friends, James and Charles Clark in Northampton, MA.

ED’s letter (JL1040) tells us Wadsworth gave a sermon at the Clarks’ church and then took the 12-mile train trip to Amherst that afternoon to visit her. His answer to her question, “Twenty Years” was a reference to his previous visit with her in Amherst in summer 1860. ED’s phrase, “inscrutable roguery”, tells me how much ED loved Wadsworth — he was the love of her life.

Bottom of Form

842.1864.Patience—has a quiet Outer—

ED gave two alternate words in Line 7 and two alternate Lines 7-8 {in curly brackets}. I prefer her originals.

Patience—has a quiet Outer—
Patience—Look within—
Is an Insect’s futile forces
Infinites—between—

‘Scaping one—against the other
Fruitlesser to fling—
Patience—is the Smile’s {Mouth’s; Love’s} exertion
Through the quivering—

Lines 7-8:

Patience — is the {Mean of forces —
[S]tand by Her Wing}

My biographical interpretation of ‘Patience—has a quiet Outer—’ (F842):

1. My family sees my outward quiet appearance, but that is superficial. If they could look within, they would see a futile struggle between infinite forces.
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2. If I escape the pain of living life, the pain of separation from Him descends, ripping open my healing wound. He told me we would meet and marry in Heaven, so I force a smile, though my lips are quivering.

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Now that I’ve been dead for 140 years {May 15, 1886}, I’d like to explain this poem for my 2026 readers {F842}:

In my Master Letter 1 {JL187, draft, spring 1858}, I invited Reverend Wadsworth to visit me in Amherst:

“Listen again, Master. I did not tell you that today had been the Sabbath Day.

“Each Sabbath on the Sea, makes me count the Sabbaths, till we meet on shore ­­─ and {will the} whether the hills will look as blue as the sailors say. I cannot talk any more {stay any longer} tonight {now}, for this pain denies me.

“How strong when weak to recollect, and easy, quite, to love. Will you tell me, please to tell me, soon as you are well.”

I knew that he was nationally known for his powerful, pew-filling sermons and really did not expect him to come. He knew from our previous letters that I had heard Him deliver a sermon in March 1855, and probably guessed correctly that His deep bass voice and astonishing oratorical skills stole my heart.

Wadsworth was the love of my life. I think He knew how I felt because my feelings were obvious in my letters. My poems honor Him by capitalizing all His pronouns, just as I do God’s. In fact, I thought of Wadsworth as God’s doppelgänger on Earth. Context separates Them.

“Fruitlesser” {Line 6} is my original word and I think it’s a humdinger comparative adjective, don’t you?

841.1864.Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning

Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning —
Lightning  —  lets away
Power to perceive His Process
With Vitality.

Maimed — was I — yet not by Venture —
Stone of stolid Boy —
Nor a Sportsman’s Peradventure —
Who mine Enemy?

Robbed — was I — intact to Bandit —
All my Mansion torn —
Sun — withdrawn to Recognition —
Furthest shining — done —

Yet was not the foe — of any —
Not the smallest Bird
In the nearest Orchard dwelling
Be of Me — afraid.

Most — I love the Cause that slew Me.
Often as I die
Its beloved Recognition
Holds a Sun on Me —

Best — at Setting — as is Nature’s —
Neither witnessed Rise
Till the infinite Aurora
In the other’s eyes.

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My biographical interpretation of ‘Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning’ {F841}, stanza by stanza:

1. When Wadsworth arrived at my front door on that glorious late summer day in 1860, I had not yet been struck by lightning. Lightning warns us of its power to kill.
2. Nor had I been maimed by a stone a boy threw, nor by a sportsman’s rifle. I did not know I had an enemy.
3. I was robbed that day. I was whole when Wadsworth came and, when he left, my mansion’s veil was torn. The Sun vanished from my life, and I no longer enjoyed nature as I did before.
4. Before he came, I was not the foe of any creature. Not even the smallest bird living in our orchard was afraid of me.
5. And the strangest thing is that I still love Wadsworth, even though he seduced me. I die of shame each day that passes, but at the same time his recognition of me is the Sun of my life.
6. Just as a sunset is most inspiring as the Sun sinks behind the horizon, the best part of our summer day was as he was leaving. Neither spoke, but we peered deep into each other’s eyes and saw an infinite sunrise. Then he caught the late train back to Northampton where his good friend and college roommate, James D. Clark, was hosting Wadsworth.

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The remainder of this post is a mixture of ED’s letters and poems plus my [LarryB] speculation, as if told by ED herself:

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Now that I’ve been dead for 140 years {May 15, 1886 – May 15, 2026}, I would like to tell you the story of how my seduction happened, poem by poem and letter by letter. My comments are in {curly brackets} and comments by the author of this blog, LarryB, are in [regular brackets]:

F1.1850.Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,
God hath made nothing single but thee in His world so fair!
The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,
Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;
The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,
Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.         10
The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,
None cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball;
The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,
And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,
And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.
The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,
No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.        20
The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;
Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.
Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,
To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:
Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,
Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap’st what thou hast sown.
Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,
And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?         30
There’s Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,
And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!
Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see
Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;
Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,
And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!
Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,
And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower —
And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum —
And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!               40

I was born December 10, 1830 and was a normal teenage girl of 19 when I wrote this 1850 Valentine poem that my group of close friends gave to my father’s junior law partner, Elbridge Bowdoin. He was a bachelor in his mid-20s and he never married. When he died in 1893, he still had this Valentine poem in his desk.

I named the members of my group in Lines 31-32: “There’s Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair, / And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!”. You can easily guess who “she of curling hair” is. My hair is a gorgeous curly auburn. [During the 19th century, beliefs about red-headed women were rife with negativity:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_hair ]

These girls, all former classmates of mine at Amherst Academy, were normal boy-crazy 20-year-olds. Susan Gilbert and I had known each other since 1847 when Sue, recently orphaned, moved to Amherst to live with her older sister and her husband.

Susan was born 10 days after I was {20 December 1830}. She was my sister-in-law, lifelong listener, poetry critic, first love, and, most importantly, my poetry muse. She lived 100 yards west of my family’s “Homestead”, in a new house my father built as a wedding present for my brother, Austin, and Sue. They named their new home “The Evergreens”.

Between 1850 and my death in 1886, I sent Sue more than 250 poems. She shared my intellectual and emotional life and was my main editor. I also sent her many intimate and passionate letters.

We were lesbian partners until 1853 when Austin asked Sue to be his wife. Before that, Sue and I enjoyed many orgasms during our love making, and, in ‘Title divine, is mine’, I called them “the swoon God gives us women” {F194, 1861}. Despite our lesbian fingerings of each other, I was technically still a virgin, my hymen intact. This fact is important to my story, as you will see.

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194.1861.Title divine, is mine

Title divine, is mine.
The Wife without the Sign –
Acute Degree conferred on me –
Empress of Calvary –
Royal, all but the Crown –
Betrothed, without the Swoon
God gives us Women –
When You hold Garnet to Garnet –
Gold – to Gold –
Born – Bridalled – Shrouded –
In a Day –
Tri Victory –
“My Husband” – Women say –
Stroking the Melody –
Is this – the way –

For a year or two after Wadsworth’s 1860 visit and my seduction, I was on cloud nine. For example, in 1861 I composed ‘Title divine, is mine’ {F194}.

Calvary Presbyterian was the name of the San Francisco church that Reverend Wadsworth ministered from 1862-1869, so I gave him the code name “Calvary” in the poem. I never used his real name in a poem or letter because of the harm it might cause his marriage and career if the letter were intercepted and circulated publicly.

I felt that I was his wife except for the “Acute Degree” of ‘Mrs’ because he told me we could meet and marry in Heaven.  In my flights of fancy, I thought of myself as the “Empress of Calvary”. I also felt that our sexual consummation in 1860 was a betrothal between us even though I did not experience a swoon. He didn’t give me a garnet or gold ring, but I felt that I was “Born – Bridalled – Shrouded – / In a Day – / Tri Victory –”. Most women would call their spouse “My Husband” and love the sound of saying it, but I wondered if this is the way for me.

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In 1861, after our “visit” the previous summer, I sent a letter to Wadsworth. It was my second “Master” letter. Here are some excerpts:

Draft Master Letter 2    1861 (Franklin 1998). My alternate words and phrases are in {curly brackets}:

Paragraph 2

“I am older – tonight, Master – but the love is the same – so are the moon and the crescent. If it had been God’s will that I might breathe where you breathed – and the place – myself – at night if I {can} never forget that I am not with you – and that sorrow and frost are nearer than I – if I wish with a might I cannot repress  – that mine were the Queen’s place – the love of the Plantagenet is my only apology –

Paragraphs 6 – 7

“I want to see you more – Sir – than all I wish for in this world and the wish – altered a little –  will be my only one  –  for the skies. Could you come to New England –  {this summer – could} would you come to Amherst  –  Would you like to come – Master?

“{Would it do harm – yet we both fear God – } Would Daisy disappoint you – no – she would’nt – Sir – it were comfort forever – just to look in your face, while you looked in mine  –  then I could play in the woods till Dark –  till you take me where Sundown cannot find us  –  and the true keep coming –  till the town is full. {Will you tell me if you will?}”

I called Wadsworth “Plantagenet” because it sounded like an Emperor. Also, Philadelphia is not in New England, and Heaven is the place “where Sundown cannot find us  –  and the true keep coming –  till the town is full. {Will you tell me if you will?}”. Here on Earth, the place “where Sundown cannot find us” is our orchard.

Obviously, in 1861 I was not bitter about Wadsworth’s seduction. In fact, on that summer day in 1860, after we had talked for two hours in the parlor and eaten dinner, dusk was coming on. I suggested we take a walk in our orchard. I know that at that moment I loved him more than ever, and I intentionally left Carlo at home {Line 17, F274, 1862}, something I never do when I walk alone. I had a vague idea that something might happen, and it did:

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274.1862.Again – his voice is at the door –

Again – his voice is at the door –
I feel the old Degree –
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one – as me –

I take a flower – as I go –
My face to justify –
He never saw me – in this life –
I might surprise his eye!

I cross the Hall with mingled steps –
I – silent – pass the door –
I look on all this world contains –
Just his face – nothing more!

We talk in careless – and in toss –
A kind of plummet strain –
Each – sounding – shyly –
Just – how – deep –

The other’s one – had been –
We walk – I leave my Dog – at home –
A tender – thoughtful Moon –
Goes with us – just a little way –

And – then – we are alone –
Alone – if Angels are “alone” –
First time they try the sky!
Alone – if those “veiled faces” – be –
We cannot count –
On High!
I’d give – to live that hour – again –
The purple – in my Vein –
But He must count the drops – himself –
My price for every stain!

This poem is a description of what we did that summer day in 1860. It was the second time I had heard his voice; the first was Sunday March 4, 1855, when I heard him deliver a sermon at his church in Philadelphia. His voice was a deep bass and unforgettable.

In her 1924 biography of me, my niece, Martha Dickinson Bianci, accurately claimed that :

“Certainly in that first witchery of an undreamed Southern springtime Emily was overtaken – doomed once and forever by her own heart. It was instantaneous, overwhelming, impossible.” {Bianci 1924. The Life and Letters of Emily Dickinson}.

Philadelphia is 250 miles south of Amherst, and, to someone who grew up in Amherst as I did, March in Philadelphia is “Southern springtime”.  I know that many of my 20th century biographers consider my niece’s memories unreliable, but she was right about Wadsworth and my 1855 “witchery”.
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325.1862.There came a Day—at Summer’s full,

There came a Day—at Summer’s full,
Entirely for me—
I thought that such—were for the Saints—
Where Resurrections—be—

The Sun—as common—went abroad—
The flowers—accustomed—blew,
As if no soul the solstice passed—
That maketh all things new.

The time was scarce profaned—by speech—
The symbol of a word
Was needless—as at Sacrament—
The Wardrobe—of our Lord—

Each was to each—the sealed church,
Permitted to commune this—time—
Lest we too awkward show—
At “Supper of the Lamb.”

The Hours slid fast—as Hours will—
Clutched tight—by greedy hands—
So—faces on two Decks—look back—
Bound to opposing Lands—

And so when all the time had failed—
Without external sound—
Each—bound the other’s Crucifix—
We gave no other Bond—

Sufficient troth—that we shall rise—
Deposed—at length—the Grave—
To that new Marriage—
Justified—through Calvaries of Love!

In my letter to Wadsworth in spring 1858 (JL187, Master Letter 1), I had told him “Each Sabbath on the Sea, makes me count the Sabbaths, till we meet on shore.” Finally, in late Summer 1860, he did come to visit me for an afternoon. He wasn’t stern like my father and seemed to care for me as a friend. It was a beautiful afternoon that I will always remember. I was deeply in love with him and even called him “Master”. That was the day he seduced me.

We walked together in our orchard, and when we were in a secluded spot, he suggested we sit down. There, “he seemed almost overpowered by a spasm of gloom. I said, “You are troubled”. Shivering as he spoke, “My Life is full of dark secrets,” he said. He never spoke of himself, and encroachment I know would have slain him.” (JL776 to James D. Clark, late 1882):

I felt sorrow for his pain and tried to sooth him. Little did I know that what he said was part of his plan was to gain my sympathy and trust. As I said in my draft of Master Letter 2 {1861}, he told me that we could meet and marry in Heaven:

“I could play in the woods till Dark –  till you take me where Sundown cannot find us – and the true keep coming – till the town is full. {Will you tell me if you will?}”.

I believed him {Stanza 7, F325, January 1882}. He succeeded in seducing me, and that evening we parted silently, speaking only with love in our eyes. {Stanza 6, F841 above, 1864}.

Or so I thought.

Now I think he took the train back to Philadelphia, satisfied that he had accomplished his mission. I suspect he had used those lines on many a troubled female who came to him for counselling. I also suspect that was the real reason he had to leave Philadelphia and move to San Francisco in 1862. He was a superstar minister and when his “secrets” became common knowledge, he had to leave town. Yet, despite knowing he took advantage of my naïveté, I still love him and will continue loving him until I die:

“In a intimacy of many years with the beloved Clergyman, I have never before spoken with one who knew him, and his Life was so shy and his tastes so unknown, that grief for him seems almost unshared.

“He was my Shepherd from “Little Girl”hood and I cannot conjecture a world without him, so noble was he always – so fathomless – so gentle”. (JL766 to James D Clark, August 1882).

James Clark was Wadsworth’s seminary roommate and close friend. Clark lived in Northampton, MA, only 12 miles SW of Amherst by train, and the train station was only one block east of my house.

840.1864.Love—is that later Thing than Death—

Love—is that later Thing than Death—
More previous—than Life—
Confirms it at its entrance—And
Usurps it—of itself—

Tastes Death—the first—to (prove) the sting
The Second—to its friend—
Disarms the little interval—
Deposits Him with God—

Then hovers—an inferior Guard—
Lest this Beloved Charge
Need—once in an Eternity—
A (lesser) than the Large—

My interpretation of F840:

1. 1. Love is our guardian angel, who exists before our birth and after our death. Love confirms our life at birth, takes control of our life while we live, and at death accompanies our spirit to Heaven.
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   2. Love tastes death first to prove the sting, then, during “the little interval” between life and afterlife, removes the sting for us. Finally, Love gives our spirit to God.
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   3. Love, our guardian angel, then hovers over our spirit in Heaven, in case our spirit needs a “lesser” friend than God.

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Coda:

For you and I have a guardian angel on high
With nothin’ to do
But to give to you and to give to me
Love forever true”.

“True Love,” written by Cole Porter for the 1956 musical film High Society.

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ED inserted four alternate words in the manuscript of this poem: Line 5 “pass, prove”; Line 11 “Miss”; and Line 12 “lesser”.

I prefer alternate words “prove” and “lesser” over the published “hand” and “smaller” and have used them in this post.

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Three notes about my interpretation of F840:

1. Stanza 1 tells us Love is “More previous—than Life” and “Confirms” itself “at Life’s “entrance”, that is, at birth. Nineteen years after ED composed this poem, she wrote her pen-friend, Maria Whitney:
   .
   “the angel begins in the morning in every human life” (L824, May 1883 ).
   .
   This excerpt from an 1883 letter suggests ED may have had a lifelong core belief that each person has a guardian angel watching over them before birth, during life, and after death.
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2. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul said, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1 Corinthians 15:55).
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3. EDLex defines “Death” as (1) “the process of spirit separating from the body” and (2) “the transition from this world to the world beyond”. In my interpretation of this poem, the “sting” of Death no longer happens when the spirit leaves the body, nor does it happen in the “grave” because the guardian angel removes the sting.

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The belief that each person has a guardian angel spans thousands of years, with roots in ancient Babylonian, Zoroastrian, and Greek traditions before being adopted into Judaism and early Christianity. It became a significant, widely accepted concept in Christianity by the early centuries AD, and was later formally solidified in Catholic theology.  (Google AI)

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ED needed a guardian angel and so she created one.

838.1864.Robbed by Death—but that was easy—

Robbed by Death—but that was easy—
To the failing Eye
I could hold the latest Glowing—
Robbed by Liberty

For Her Jugular Defences—
This, too, I endured—
Hint of Glory—it afforded—
For the Brave Beloved—

Fraud of Distance—Fraud of Danger,
Fraud of Death—to bear—
It is Bounty—to Suspense’s
Vague Calamity—

Staking our entire Possession
On a Hair’s result—
Then—seesawing—coolly—on it—
Trying if it split—

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

My biographical interpretation of F838:
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Stanza 1
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In March 1862, I [ED] lost my good friend Frazer Stern in the Battle of New Bern, NC. I had been worried sick about him. I wrote my 1863 poem, ‘A Dying Tiger — moaned for Drink’, about Frazer, who lived 10 minutes after a Confederate miniball hit him. He moaned for water and I imagined holding him as his eyes dimmed in death. He died defending freedom for (enjambed) . . .

Stanza 2

all men, both white and black. Though worried sick, I endured. He was patriotic and I hope his death affords him a hint glory.

Stanza 3

I had to tolerate my awful fear of Frazer’s distance, danger, and demise. His death is the only reward I get for fearing some vague catastrophe.
.
Stanza 4
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I staked my close friendship with Frazer on fate’s decision whether he should live or die. Fate seesawed between the two, then chose death.

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If Lines 2-3 sound familiar, here are Lines 5-8 of ‘A Dying Tiger — moaned for Drink’ (F529), 1863:

“His Mighty [Eye]Balls — in death were thick —
But searching —
I could see A Vision on the Retina
Of Water — and of me”

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“Frazer Stearns was a close friend of Emily Dickinson and her brother Austin. His death in the Battle of New Bern in March 1862 deeply affected Dickinson, prompting her to write about him in letters and likely influencing her poetry.” (Google AI)

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ED Lexicon defines “Calamity” as: Catastrophe; devastation; tragedy; misery; misfortune; grievous trouble; destruction that causes distress; adverse events such as plagues, famines, earthquakes, or violent storms

ED Lexicon defines “Fraud” as: Deceit; deception; trick.

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If Lines 2-3 sound familiar, here’s Lines 5-8 of ‘A Dying Tiger — moaned for Drink’ (F529), 1863:

“His Mighty [Eye]Balls — in death were thick —
But searching —
I could see A Vision on the Retina
Of Water — and of me”

837.1864.I make His Crescent fill or lack—

I make His Crescent fill or lack—
His Nature is at Full
Or Quarter—as I signify—
His Tides—do I control—

He holds superior in the Sky
Or gropes, at my Command
Behind inferior Clouds—or round
A Mist’s slow Colonnade—

But since We hold a Mutual Disc—
And front a Mutual Day—
Which is the Despot, neither knows—
Nor Whose—the Tyranny—

 

Pronoun identities: “I” is the Sun and “He/Him” is the Moon.

If these identities are correct, this poem is unusual. I can’t remember a single other ED poem where “I” means anything but ED/Poet.

Here’s my interpretation of the poem, stanza by stanza:

1. I make the Moon’s crescent wax or wane. I command whether the Moon is full or quarter. I control the tides.
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2. I also command whether the Moon is superior in the night sky or struggles with clouds and mist that block his face from view.
   .
3. But since We have the same round face: a full Moon at night and a bright orb during the day, which of us is the despot, which creates the fear?

PS. “Day” must mean one 24-hour day because both Sun and Moon “face” it.

PPS. Adam’s explication of this poem on TPB is excellent, but it ends without explaining the last line: “Nor Whose—the Tyranny”. Does the Sun tyrannize the Moon, or the Moon tyrannize the Sun? Is one of them really a “Despot”?

836.1864.Color — Caste — Denomination —

Color — Caste — Denomination —
These — are Time’s Affair —
Death’s diviner Classifying
Does not know they are —

As in sleep — All Hue forgotten —
Tenets — put behind —
Death’s large—Democratic fingers
Rub away the Brand —

If Circassian — He is careless —
If He put away
Chrysalis of Blonde—or Umber —
Equal Butterfly —

They emerge from His Obscuring —
What Death — knows so well —
Our minuter intuitions —
Deem unplausible —

My interpretation of each stanza, ED speaking:

1. Color — Caste — Denomination —
   These — are Time’s Affair —
   Death’s diviner Classifying
   Does not know they are —

I believe a person’s skin color, social class, and religion don’t matter. They are determined by one’s parents and ancestors. After we die, death will decide our fate, and death doesn’t see these distinctions.

2. As in sleep — All Hue forgotten —
   Tenets — put behind —
   Death’s large—Democratic fingers
   Rub away the Brand —

I also believe that democratic death doesn’t care about skin color, social class, and religion. It erases these superficial distinctions.

3. If Circassian — He is careless —
   If He put away
   Chrysalis of Blonde—or Umber —
   Equal Butterfly — (enjambed with next line.

I believe death deals the same with butterflies, Death doesn’t care if they’re white or blond or dark brown. They emerge from their chrysalises as equals in death’s eyes.

4. They emerge from His Obscuring —
   What Death — knows so well —
   Our minuter intuitions —
   Deem unplausible —
   
   Our minute human classifications emerge from death’s denial as unplausible, a fact death knows so well.