LarryB

You taught me Waiting with Myself—
Appointment strictly kept—
You taught me fortitude of Fate—
This—also—I have learnt—

The Heaven you know—to understand
That you be not ashamed
Of Me—in Christ’s bright Audience
Upon the further Hand—

Adam DeGraff, blogmeister of ‘The Prowling Bee’, wrote a stunning explication of this poem, F774. For a real treat, visit this poem at TPB: (https://bloggingdickinson.blogspot.com/2025/02/you-taught-me-waiting-with-myself.html).

Adam’s layer by layer excavation defies imitation. For example, Adam suspects “you” is Sue, and Lines 9-11 confirm this:

“. . . . to understand
That you be not ashamed
Of Me—  . . . .”

Why Sue would be ashamed of ED, at least in ED’s opinion, requires a little biographic history:

During their late teens and early 20s, ED and Sue shared an unusually close friendship, at least by 2025 standards. That it included romantic love, at least on ED’s part, is clear from her letters to Sue. Whether Sue felt romance is unclear, but many well informed modern fans of ED’s poetry think the relationship was lesbian, possibly including physical intimacy.

However, Sue was an orphan and had to find financial support. She majored in mathematics at Utica Female Academy and secured a job teaching math in Baltimore during the 1851-1852 academic year. During that time Emily experienced extreme loneliness and horrible separation anxiety, which was exacerbated by Sue’s infrequent responses to ED’s daily letters.

Sue disliked teaching and didn’t renew her contract after she returned to Amherst. Predictably, she visited the Dickinson ‘Homestead’ frequently, and, also predictably, this led to her courtship and marriage with ED’s older brother, Austin, a recent graduate of Harvard Law School. As a wedding present to the couple, Austin’s father and employer, Edward Dickinson, built a stylish two-storied mansion, ‘Evergreen’, next door to ‘Homestead.

There, Sue loved to host soirees for Amherst’s leading lights and distinguished visitors. At first Sue invited ED, but for unstated reasons soon stopped. My guess is that ED hated chit-chat and was prone to conversations as obscure as her poetry. These uninvitations became banishment, either mutual or unilateral, about the time ED composed this poem. This physical alienation continued until the 1883 death of Sue’s youngest child, 6-year-old Gilbert (Gib), who died of typhoid fever after wading with a friend in a town pond contained sewage. That banishment is what ED refers to in Lines 9-10.

Fortunately for us, during those two decades, ED and Sue communicated frequently by mailed letters or notes carried across the 100-yard meadow between the houses. Their correspondence consisted not only of poems by ED and editorial comments by Sue, but also included friend-to-friend thoughts and feelings of both women.

Variant A. Sent to Sue; signed Emily; Lines 1-10 (first leaf) missing.
(ED’s alternative words in parentheses)

Nor Myself to Him, by accent
Forfeit probity.
Weariness of Him, were quainter
Than Monotony
Knew a particle, of Space’s
Vast society –
Neither if He visit other –
Do He dwell or nay
Know I – just (But) instinct esteem Him
Immortality

Variant B

Conscious am I in my Chamber –
Of a shapeless friend –
He doth not attest by Posture –
Nor confirm – by Word –

Neither Place – need I present Him –
Fitter Courtesy
Hospitable intuition
Of His Company –

Presence – is His furthest license –
Neither He to Me
Nor Myself to Him – by Accent –
Forfeit Probity

Weariness of Him, were quainter
Than Monotony
Knew a Particle – of
Space’s Vast Society –

Neither if He visit Other –
Do He dwell – or Nay – know I-
But Instinct esteem Him (Report Him)
Immortality –

ED’s alternative words in parentheses. I prefer “Spiceless Sepulchre” in Line 8 because it more directly implies death/tomb than “Ceaseless Rosemary”:

Essential Oils – are wrung –
The Attar from the Rose
Be (Is) not expressed by Suns – alone –
It is the gift of Screws –

The General Rose – decay –
But (While) this – in Lady’s Drawer Make Summer –
When the Lady lie
In Ceaseless Rosemary (Spiceless Sepulchre) –

A two-sentence prose interpretation:

Great poems, like attar from the rose, are not composed by inspiration alone; they are the gift of pain and toil.

Ordinary poems die young, but great poems shed warm light when their poet lies in eternal sleep.

‘Essential Oils’ is probably about ED’s favorite poet, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who died in 1861, two years before ED copies this poem into Fascicle 34.

ED’s alternative words in parentheses; my emendations in brackets

We miss Her, not because We see—
The Absence of an Eye—
Except it’s Mind accompany [is also absent and]
Abridge (Deprive) Society[.]

As slightly (scarcely) as the Routes (Flights) of Stars—
[Deprive] Ourselves—asleep below [of sleep, yet]
We know that their superior Eyes
Include Us —as they go—[.]

Initially, I thought the first and second stanza were enjambed, creating a logical fallacy, but a period at the end of Stanza 1 solved the problem. If Stanza 1 is a complete thought, then Stanza 2 also becomes a complete thought and ends with a period. With ED’s alternate words in parentheses and my emendations, each stanza becomes a prose sentence:

“We miss Her, not because We see— / The Absence of an Eye— / [Unless] its Mind [is also absent, and] / (Deprive)[s] Society[.]

“As slightly as the (Flights) of Stars— / [Deprive] Ourselves—[of sleep] below—[,] / [Yet] We know that their superior Eyes / Include Us — as they go—[.]”

…………………………………………

When ED says she misses some influential person who looks down on us from the stars, my immediate hypothesis is Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-June 1861), whose 11,000-line poem/novel, ‘Aurora Leigh’, called for recognition of female poets and captured ED’s subconscious “white hot” poem forge. ED “owned two copies of ‘Aurora Leigh’ [1856], and one contains passages she marked in pencil, indicating careful reading and engagement with the text” (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian Web).

We know that EBB’s death was heavy on ED’s mind in late October, 1861, when she wrote her cousin, Louisa Norcross (JL311):

“Mrs Browning  . . . and George Sand (1804-1876), women, now, queens, now! And one in the Eden of God. I guess . . . little stars . . . twinkling at last. Take heart, little sister, twilight is but the short bridge, and the moon stands at the end. If we can only get to her! Yet, if she sees us fainting she will put out her yellow hands.”

……………………………

ED’s two manuscripts of Fr771, Variants A and B, use “ït’s” as possessive, which is incorrect by modern standards. A quick check of 20 poems, F771-F790, turned up two more examples of this “error” in ED’s handwriting. Google AI has this to say:

“The possessive form “its” without an apostrophe became the accepted possessive form in the 18th century, replacing the earlier usage of “it’s” with an apostrophe. Originally, “it’s” was used for both the possessive and the contraction.” Much of ED’s reading was pre-1800 books, and the same was true of ED’s contemporary, Herman Melville, who frequently used “it’s” as both possessive and a contraction.

Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds
To drink – enables Mine
Through Desert or the Wilderness
As bore it sealed Wine

To go elastic – Or as One
The Camel’s trait – attained –
How powerful the stimulus
Of an Hermetic Mind –

The “it” in Line 4 refers to “Mine” (my mind) in Line2. Line 4 translates as “As if my mind bore sealed Wine”. The “Hermetic Mind” in Line 8 refers to and slant rhymes with “sealed Wine” in Line 4.

“Hermetic” in Line 4 implies a mind sealed in both directions, in and out. ED probably did not mean a closed mind, but that’s what her words imply. Possibly she meant a mind resistant to the latest fashions in public discourse, poetic styles, or religious dogma. David Preest lists Elizabeth Barrett Browning and George Eliot as likely leaders on Emily’s List of “Hermetic Minds”.

 ED has convinced me that virtually all of her poems have two or more levels of meaning: poetic and historical. These levels cannot be separated into two ivory towers, as most academics do.

The reason for her instant and continuing public adulation (1890-present) was and is, by far, poetic. She is one of the “Greats” that she always dreamed to be, despite her lifelong refusal to publish. That refusal freed her from criticism and allowed her to explore the outer boundaries of poetic power.

Her refusal to publish was only possible because of the lifelong financial and daily social/housekeeping support of her family, especially her father and sister, respectively. Throughout her life, the Dickinsons hired servants, first Negro and later Irish, some of whom became much more than housekeepers for ED.

My point is that our appreciation and love of ED’s poems can be enriched by understanding both poetic and historical levels of her sound and sense. We impoverish ourselves if we ignore their historical base.

769.1863.These saw visions
(ED’s alternative words accepted)

These – saw Visions –
(Bind) them softly –
These – held Dimples –
Smooth them slow –
This – addressed departing accents –
(Soon) – Sweet Mouth – to miss thee so –

This – we stroked –
Unnumbered – Satin –
These – we (fondled in) our own –
Fingers of the Slim Aurora –
Not so arrogant – this Noon –

These – adjust – that ran to meet Us –
Pearl – (the) stocking – Pearl (the) Shoe –
Paradise – the only Palace
Fit for Her reception – now –

Amazing prescience. In 1886 Sue prepared ED’s body for funeral and burial. ED described her body as she would like Sue to see it.

Her eyes had seen visions, her cheeks shown dimples, her lips had said goodbye. “Sweet Mouth”, I’ll miss thee so.

This hair I stroked like satin, these fingers I fondled in my own. They aren’t arrogant this noon.

These feet that ran to meet me wear pearl stockings and pearl shoes, fit only for heaven now.

768.1863. The Mountains – grow unnoticed –

The Mountains – grow unnoticed –
Their Purple figures rise
Without attempt – Exhaustion –
Assistance – or Applause –

In Their Eternal Faces
The Sun – with just delight
Looks long – and last – and golden –
For fellowship – at night –

When ED composed this poem, five miles of farmland lay between her second-floor south-facing window and the Holyoke Mountain Range. The Range stretches east-west seven miles, and five peaks rise 800 feet above the farmland. These hills were ED’s “Sweet Mountains” of poem F745 (TPB Comment 2). Today, trees on her father’s former hayfield across Main Street would block her view, but in 1863 the setting Sun cast a golden glow on their framed faces.

In a former life as a National Park Ranger, I lived for a year in a Park Service apartment ten miles east of the Teton Mountain Range. The Grand Teton loomed a mile high, framed perfectly in our picture window. For the first month, I couldn’t take my eyes off its massive peaks, but gradually I grew accustomed to my daily view until it became part of my brain’s expected landscape.

No doubt, the same happened with Amherstites and their comparatively miniscule Holyoke Mountain Range. For ED, however, the Holyoke peaks became close friends with sunset-golden faces, her “Strong Madonnas” who “Cherish still – // The Wayward Nun–beneath the hill –”.

Like Shakespeare’s fair friend of Sonnet 18, so long as ED’s poems F745 and F768 live, they give life to her “Sweet Mountains”: