ED-LarryB

882.1864.The Truth—is stirless—

The Truth—is stirless—
Other force—may be presumed to move—
This—then—is best for confidence—
When oldest Cedars swerve—

And Oaks untwist their fists—
And Mountains—feeble—lean—
How excellent a Body, that
Stands without a Bone—

How vigorous a Force
That holds without a Prop—
Truth stays Herself—and every man
That trusts Her—boldly up—
………………………………………………………………

Truth stiffens the backbone: a wise aphorism for life.

881.1864.I meant to find Her when I Came –

I meant to find Her when I came –
Death – had the same design –
But the Success – was His – it seems –
And the Surrender – Mine –

I meant to tell Her how I longed
For just this single time –
But Death had told Her so the first –
And she had past, with Him –

To wander – now – is my Repose –
To rest – To rest would be
A privilege of Hurricane
To Memory – and Me –
……………………………………………………………….

My interpretation of F881, ‘I meant to find Her when I Came – ‘, with ED’s extensive mid-1870s revisions in {curly brackets}:

Stanza 1.

I meant to find Her when I Came –
Death – had the same design –
But the Success – was His – it seems –
And the Surrender {Discomfit}- Mine –

S1.

I meant to find Her when I came, but Death had the same design. The success was his, it seems, and the surrender mine.

Stanza 2.

I meant to tell Her how I longed
For just this single time –

(a) For just {this single} time –
(b) For just {this only} time –
(c) For {this specific} time –
(d) For {this peculiar} time –

But Death had {told} Her {enamored} so the first –
And she had past {hearkened ; trusted ; fled}, with Him –

S2.

I meant to tell Her how I longed to see her for just this single time, but Death had told her first, and she had fled with Him.

Stanza3.

To wander – now – is my Repose {Abode} –
To rest {pause}- To rest {dwell; stay} would be
A privilege of Hurricane {misery}
To Memory – and Me –

S3.

To wander now is my abode – to pause would be a privilege of misery, to memory and me.
………………………………………………………………

I wonder whether the speaker, ED, realized just how hurtful she would be to tell a dying person “I longed to see her for just this single time” and then to focus on her own “misery” for having missed her opportunity to say goodbye.

As someone once said, we must take ED for better or for worse.
……………………………………………………………………………

PS. The online photocopy of ED’s manuscript of this poem is faint, and she scribbled edits on it much more than she usually did. One source says the name “Eliz“ is on the manuscript, but, if it is, I can’t see it.

PPS. ED’s mother, Elizabeth Norcross Dickinson, died on November 14, 1882, so “Eliz.” probably doesn‘t refer to her.
………………………………………………………………………………………..

10/26/2026

I just read Cynthia Wolff’s paragraph (below). The poem’s death probably 20 years earlier when ED was 13 years old and her friend, Sophia Holland, died at age 15. The trauma sent ED into a month or more of deep depression that only waned when ED was sent to Boston to visit her aunt and sightsee.

So, Emily, please accept my sad apology. In future, I’ll try to learn more about the situation before passing judgement when empathy is needed.

”

880.1864.The Service without Hope—

The Service without Hope—
Is tenderest, I think—
Because ’tis unsustained
By stint—Rewarded Work—

Has impetus of Gain—
And impetus of Goal—
There is no Diligence like that
That knows not an Until—
………………………………………………………………..

My interpretation of ‘The Service without Hope’:

Stanza 1.

The Service without Hope—
Is tenderest, I think—
Because ’tis unsustained
By stint—Rewarded Work— [Stanzas 1 and 2 are enjambed]

S1.

I think service without hope of reward is tenderist because it can’t be done by stinting. Rewarded work, in contrast, . . . [Stanzas 1 and 2 are enjambed]

Stanza 2.

Has impetus of Gain—
And impetus of Goal—
There is no Diligence like that
That knows not an Until—

S2.

. . . has expectation of reward, expectation of reaching a goal. There is no diligence like that that expects no end.

879.1864. This that would greet – an hour ago –

This that would greet – an hour ago –
Is quaintest Distance – now –
Had it a Guest from Paradise –
Nor glow, would it, nor bow –

Had it a notice from the Noon
Nor beam, would it – nor Warm –
Match me the Silver Reticence –
Match me the Solid Calm –
……………………………………………………………………

My interpretation of ‘This that would greet – an hour ago –’:

Death tells us what death is like.

Stanza 1.

This that would greet – an hour ago –
Is quaintest Distance – now –
Had it a Guest from Paradise –
Nor glow, would it, nor bow –

S1.

This corpse, which would have greeted you an hour ago, is an unreachable distance from you now. Had it a guest from Paradise, it would not beam or bow.

Stanza 2.

Had it a notice from the Noon
Nor beam, would it – nor Warm –
Match me the Silver Reticence –
Match me the Solid Calm –

S2.

If this corpse had a beam from the Sun, it would not return the beam, nor would it warm you. Rather, it would match my silver silence, match my total calm.

878.1864. Least Bee that Brew –

ED gave Variant A of ‘Least Bee that Brew -‘ to Sue and stitched Variant B into Fascicle 39.

Variant A

Least Bee that Brew –
A Honey’s Worth
The Summer multiply –
Content Her smallest fraction help
The Amber Quantity –

Variant B

Least Bee that brew – a Honey’s Weight
The Summer multiply –
Content Her smallest fraction help
The Amber Quantity –
………………………………………………………………………

My biographical interpretation of ‘Least Bee that Brew -‘:

ED metaphorizes herself as the “Least Bee”, who “brews” poem after poem for us, her readers. She’s “Content Her smallest fraction help / The Amber Quantity -”, which, in turn, helps her endure “The Loneliness One dare not sound”, F877.

877.1864.The Loneliness One dare not sound—

The Loneliness One dare not sound—
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size—

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see—
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny—

The Horror not to be surveyed—
But skirted in the Dark—
With Consciousness suspended—
And Being under Lock—

I fear me this—is Loneliness—
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate—or seal—
………………………………………………………………..

My interpretation of ‘The Loneliness One dare not sound’, including
ED’s alternate words in {curly brackets}:

Stanza 1.

The Loneliness One dare not sound—
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing {measuring}
To ascertain {register} the size—

S1

The belief that we are alone in the universe is something we would rather forget, not go measuring to ascertain the depth of this assertion.

Stanza 2

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see—
And perish from before itself
For just a {simple} scrutiny—

S2.

Acknowledging that we are alone in the universe is scary, and we would rather die than scrutinize that line of thought.

Stanza 3.

The Horror {Chasm} not to be surveyed—
But skirted in the Dark—
With Consciousness suspended—
And Being under Lock—

S3.

The horror of this loneliness is better unsurveyed, unskirted in the dark, with consideration suspended, under lock and key.

Stanza 4.

I fear me this—is Loneliness—
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate {Make populate{manifest}} — or seal—

S4,

What I’m afraid of admitting is that we are the makers of our own souls, with all their dark caverns and corridors, which we can illuminate or seal.
………………………………………………………………………………………

To me, this poem describes existentialism, well before Sartre (1905-1980).

876.1864.To be alive—is Power—

Variant A signed “Emily” and sent to Sue.

To be alive, is power –
Existence – in itself –
Without a further function –
Omnipotence – Enough –
To be alive – and Will –
‘Tis able as a God –
The Further of Ourselves, be what –
Such being Finitude?

Variant B to Fascicle 39

To be alive—is Power—
Existence—in itself—
Without a further function—
Omnipotence—Enough—

To be alive—and Will!
‘Tis able as a God—
The Maker—of Ourselves—be what—
Such being Finitude!
…………………………………………..

My interpretation of Variant B of F876, ‘To be alive—is Power—’:

Stanza 1

To be alive—is Power—
Existence—in itself—
Without a further function—
Omnipotence—Enough—

S1

To be alive is power. Existence in itself, with no further function, is omnipotence enough.

Stanza 2.

To be alive—and Will!
‘Tis able as a God—
The Maker—of Ourselves—be what—
Such being Finitude!

S2.

To be alive and able to will! That’s as able as any God. We are the maker of ourselves, we can be whatever we want, limited only by physical reality.

Nietzschean, nicht war?