LarryB

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.
   .
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.

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 —
.
.
.
In a genetic sense that ED could not know, not just humans share death, but every individual organism: plant, animal, bacterium, fungus, and even, in a sense, virus, with their single-stranded genetic code of RNA. Death’s “Democratic Fingers” end existence for every “individual” of every “species”.
.
What we know now is that ED’s obsession with individual human “Death” was completely anthropocentric. What really matters is transmission of genetic code from each parent generation to its descendants. Genetic codes are “immortal” in a sense, but their “immortality” does not mean they stay the same; they change continually by natural selection and its consequence, evolution.

We organisms pass from existence to non-existence. Death of an individual organism doesn’t matter, so long as it leaves at least one copy of its DNA in the next generation. The only complete failure of a DNA or RNA molecule is extinction of its “species”. If we humans cause that extinction, we have committed a biocentric sin. Of course, we humans may intentionally cause extinction of a pathogen “species” like smallpox for our own anthropocentric benefit, but if we do we have intentionally committed a biocentric sin for a good reason.
.
.
All of this is not to say that ED’s poems don’t matter. We love their rhythm and rhyme, their sound and sense. When we enjoy a poem, biology doesn’t matter. We can always learn biology later, when we aren’t reading ED’s poems.

834.1864.Fitter to see Him, I may be

ED included ten (10) alternate words (Lines 4, 8, 9, 10, 16, 20, 21, 26, 27, and 28). I prefer her alternates in Lines 4, 8, 16, and 28 and her original words in Lines 9, 10 (spelling corrected), 20, 21, 26, and 27. Here is F834, with my preferred alternate words in parentheses:

1. Fitter to see Him, I may be
   For the long Hindrance — Grace — to Me —
   With Summers, and with Winters, grow,
   Some passing Year — A (charm) bestow
   .
2. To make Me fairest of the Earth —
   The Waiting — then — will seem so worth
   I shall impute with half a pain
   The blame that I was (common) — then —
   .
3. Time to anticipate His Gaze —
   Its first — Delight — and then — Surprise —
   The turning o’er and o’er my face
   For Evidence it be the Grace —
   .
4. He left behind One Day — So less
   He seek Conviction, That — be This —
   .
5. I only must not grow so new
   He’ll mistake — and ask for me
   Of me — when first unto the Door
   I go — to Elsewhere go no more —
   .
6. I only must not change so fair
   He’ll sigh — “The Other — She — is Where?”
   The Love, tho’, will array me right
   I shall be perfect — in His sight —
   .
7. If He perceive the other Truth —
   Upon an Excellenter Youth —
   .
8. How sweet I shall not lack in Vain —
   But gain — thro’ loss — Through Grief— obtain —
   The Beauty that reward Him best —
   The Beauty of (Belief) — at Rest —

My interpretation of F834, stanza by stanza:

1.  If Wadsworth ever returns to Amherst, I’ll be fitter to meet Him because of my long wait for Him to return. Waiting may feel like a hindrance, but during that time, God will give me grace. Passing seasons and passing years will bestow on me a new trait; (enjambed)
   .
2. they will make me fairest of the Earth. The waiting, then, will seem so worthwhile. I half attribute my emotional pain to Wadsworth for choosing to visit me in 1860. Nevertheless, I hope He returns.
   .
3. The wait has given me time to anticipate His gaze, its first delight and then his surprise as he turns over and over in his mind my face as he remembers it. He’ll wonder if my transformation has been by the grace of God and search for evidence that I’m the same person he (enjambed)
   .
4. left behind that summer day in 1860. My face will be so different that he’ll search it for evidence that that face is this face.
   .
5. I only must not grow so fair that He’ll think he’s talking to a different person and ask for me of me when first I go to the door. No, I’ll welcome Him and never afterward leave His side.
   .
6. I only must not change so fair that He’ll sigh, “The other ED, where is she, where?” Our love, though, will array me right; I shall be perfect in His sight.
   .
7. If He decides that I am not ED, but rather a younger, prettier woman than he remembers, that’s okay with me because He will bestow his love on me but think he’s loving a prettier youth.
   .
8. And even if that happens, how sweet that I shall not lack his love but gain, through loss, through grief, the beauty that he likes best, the beauty of belief, at rest.
   .
   .

This poem is ED’s wishful imagination.

833.1864.Pain — expands the Time —

Alternate words in Lines 2, 7, 8 – I prefer ED’s original word, “coil”, in Line 2 and her alternate words, “Triplets” and “Flit” in Lines 7 & 8 (emended).

Pain — expands the Time —
Ages (coil) within
The minute Circumference
Of a single Brain —

Pain contracts — the Time —
Occupied with Shot
(Triplets) of Eternities
(Flit) [by] as [if] they were not [eternities].—

EDLex, Definitions 4 & 6 of “Shot”: “gunshot flak” [incoming miniballs].
EDLex Definition 1 of “Pain”: “Emotional agony”.

My literal interpretation of Fr833, 1864, ‘Pain — expands the Time’:

Pain expands time: while you’re waiting in your trench for a rebel attack, hours drag by.

Pain contracts time: when rebels scream their rebel yell and charge your trench, and miniballs whiz by your head, hours pass like seconds.

My metaphorical interpretation of Fr833, 1864, ‘Pain — expands the Time’:

1. Emotional agony makes one minute feel like hours. In that one minute, entire ages coil in my tortured brain.
2. In “late 1861” when I composed ‘There came a Day at Summer’s full’ (Fr325), I was remembering that “summer day” in 1860 when Wadsworth came to visit me in Amherst. My emotional agony contracted the hours I spent with him to minutes. As I said in ‘There came a Day’ (Stanza 5):

“The Hours [of that summer day in 1860] slid fast—as Hours will—
Clutched tight—by [our] greedy hands—
So—faces [Wadsworth’s and mine] on two Decks—look back—
Bound to opposing Lands [Amherst, MA, and San Francisco, CA] —”

832.1864.’Tis Sunrise — Little Maid — Hast Thou

10 April 2026
No alternate words

‘Tis Sunrise — Little Maid — Hast Thou
No Station in the Day?
‘Twas not thy wont, to hinder so —
Retrieve thine industry —

‘Tis Noon — My little Maid —
Alas — and art thou sleeping yet?
The Lily — waiting to be Wed —
The Bee — Hast thou forgot?

My little Maid — ‘Tis Night — Alas
That Night should be to thee
Instead of Morning — Had’st thou broached
Thy little Plan to Die —
Dissuade thee, if I could not, Sweet,
I might have aided — thee —

My interpretation of ‘’Tis Sunrise — Little Maid — (Fr832)

1. ‘Tis Sunrise — Little Maid — Hast Thou
   No Station in the Day?
   ‘Twas not thy wont, to hinder so —
   Retrieve thine industry —
   .
   I’m your father, Emily. It’s sunrise and you have bread to make and poems to write! It’s not like you to sleep so late. It’s time to rise and shine!

2. It’s Noon — My little Maid —
   Alas — and art thou sleeping yet?
   The Lily — waiting to be Wed —
   The Bee — Hast thou forgot?
   .
   It’s noon, Emily! It’s me, your father, again, and you’ve slept all morning!! What’s wrong? Why are you still in bed? The lilies in your garden are waiting to be fertilized by the bees. Why have you forgotten your garden and your poems?

3. My little Maid — ‘Tis Night — Alas
   That Night should be to thee
   Instead of Morning — Had’st thou broached
   Thy little Plan to Die —
   Dissuade thee, if I could not, Sweet,
   I might have aided — thee —
   .

Emily, I’m your soul. You’re dead and I’m really sad. If only you had talked to me about your suicide plans, I might have dissuaded you. If I could not dissuade you, Emily, I might have helped you to do it.

”””””””””””’

As background for my interpretation, here is an early poem about ED’s father waking her at 3:00 AM each morning by knocking on her bedroom door. Apparently, in 1858, ED and her sister, Vinnie, were expected to start morning chores and cook breakfast. The poem below (Fr35, 1858) is about a deal ED brokered with her father to hire a maid so that she could have more time to write poetry:

35.1858.Sleep is supposed to be

Sleep is supposed to be
By souls of sanity
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down wh’, on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be
By people of degree
The breaking of the Day.

Morning has not occurred!

That shall Aurora be—
East of Eternity—
One with the banner gay—
One in the red array—
That is the break of Day!

Here is an excerpt about Fr35 (1958) from Susan Kornfeld’s 2011 explication of ‘Sleep is supposed to be’ on the ‘The Prowling Bee’ blog

https://bloggingdickinson.blogspot.com/2011/07/f-35-1848.html

“[T]his poem was described by Dickinson in a letter (JL198) to her friends the Hollands as a note to her father who apparently used to knock on her door before daylight to wake her up. [ED] prefaced the poem by writing:

To my Father –
 to whose untiring efforts in my behalf, I am indebted for my morning hours
       – viz – 3.AM to 12. PM. These grateful lines are inscribed by his aff. Daughter.’ (L198)”

In 1854, in a letter to the same “Hollands”, she mentions her father “rapping” on her door to wake her :

To Dr. and Mrs. J. G. Holland, 26 November 1854 (JL175)

“Dear Friends,

. . . When father rapped on my door to wake me this morning, I [dreamed I] was walking with you in the most wonderful garden, and helping you pick- roses, and though we gathered with all our might, the basket was never full.

Affectionately, Emily

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