All Poems

Me prove it now — Whoever doubt
Me stop to prove it — now —
Make haste — the Scruple! Death be scant
For Opportunity —

The River reaches to my feet —
As yet — My Heart be dry —
Oh Lover — Life could not convince —
Might Death — enable Thee —

The River reaches to My Breast —
Still — still — My Hands above
Proclaim with their remaining might —
Dost recognize the Love?

The River reaches to my Mouth —
Remember — when the Sea
Swept by my searching eyes — the last —
Themselves were quick — with Thee!

Franklin estimates ED copied this poem into Fascicle 31 “about the second half of 1863”; When she composed it is unknown. The “it” in Lines 1 & 2 is an orphan pronoun, no antecedent:

Stanza 1

Stanza 1 expresses Speaker’s exasperation with Lover’s unfair demand for proof of her love. The emphatic “Oh Lover” in Stanza 2 suggests Stanza 1’s “Me prove it now” means “Me prove [my love to you now?]”. Speaker can’t believe her “Lover” still doubts her love. She’s miffed, exclaims “Me stop to prove it – now –” [!]. I hear her foot stomp and her imperative, “Make haste [with your] Scruple! / Death [comes near] / [Hungry for my soul.]”

Stanzas 2-4

My year-old comment (January 22, 2024) in The Prowling Bee still stands; Susan Kornfeld nailed Stanzas 2-4 in her explication of this poem. Speaker and Lover began their love affair in ecstatic infatuation, at least in Speaker’s imagination, but Lover sensed some real or imagined evidence that Speaker hasn’t been honest with him. He wants proof of her love. Meanwhile, the River of Death rises over Speaker’s mouth as she closes Stanza 4. Lover stands aloof in ignorance, still demanding proof of her love.

From ED’s pathological perspective, this scenario is what happened when Wadsworth moved from Philadelphia to San Francisco in May 1862. We now know the main reason he left Arch Street Presbyterian was because his congregation was largely anti-slavery, and Wadsworth believed the Bible condoned slavery. Slavery was less important to his new congregation in San Francisco, and Wadsworth tread carefully on the topic.

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I think Master Letter 3 and this poem, F631, are closely related. Franklin (1986) dated ML3 “about 1861″ . . . . “The handwriting is the only clue to the date. This rough draft was left among ED’s own papers, and no one knows whether a fair copy was made or sent to the person envisioned as the recipient.” Franklin (1986). Franklin dated poem F631, ‘Me prove it now’, “about summer 1863”.

In Stanza 1, ED offered two alternative words (in parentheses):

“Me prove it now — Whoever (Whatever) doubt
Me stop to prove it — now —
Make haste (Come near)— the Scruple! Death be scant
For Opportunity —”

Franklin (1998) rejects both alternatives . I prefer ED’s alternative, “Whatever”, in Line 1, because the “doubter “is the Lover, not just “Whoever”. However, in Line 3, I prefer her original phrase, “Make haste”, over its alternative “Come near” because the speaker is drowning, and “Make haste” reflects her urgency. Finally, EDLex defines “Scruple” (Line 3) as “remorse; sense of guilt” or “hesitation; uncertainty”.

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The following long quote is verbatim from Franklin, RW (ed). 1986.The Master Letters of Emily Dickinson, Amherst College Press. ED’s crossed out words/phrases are in brackets, [-]. Words in angle brackets, <->, are mine. I think the writer is trying to imagine “Whatever” offense of hers has alienated Master:

“Master Letter 3 <draft>

“To recipient unknown, about 1861; Words which <sic> ED crossed out are here enclosed in brackets < [-] >; her alternative words < & phrases > are in parentheses < (-) >; This rough draft was left among ED’s own papers, and no one knows whether a fair copy was made or sent to the person envisioned as the recipient.

“Master

“If you saw a bullet hit a Bird-and he told you he was’nt shot you might weep at his courtesy, but you would certainly doubt his word.

“One drop more from the gash that stains your Daisy’s bosom – then would you believe? . . . .  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 find 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 – To come nearer than presbyteries – and nearer than the new Coat – that the Tailor made – the prank of the Heart at play on: the Heart-in holy Holiday – is forbidden me – You make me say it over I fear you laugh – when I do not see – [but] “Chillon” <a prison> is not funny. . . . . Have you the Heart in your breast – Sir – is it set like mine – a little to the left – has it the misgiving – if it wake in the night – perchance itself to it-a timbrel is it – itself to it a tune?

“These things are [reverent] holy, Sir, I touch them [reverently] hallowed, but persons who pray – dare remark [our] “Father”! You say I do not tell you all – Daisy confessed – and denied not.

. . . . .

“I dont know what you can do for it-thank you – Master – but if I had the Beard on my cheek – like you – and you – had Daisy’s petals and you cared so for me – what would become of you? Could you forget me in fight, or flight-or the foreign l – and? Could’nt Carlo <ED’s huge Newfoundlander>, and you and I walk in the meadows an hour-and nobody care but the Bobolink – and his – a silver scruple? I used to think when I died-I could see you – so I died as fast as I could- but the “Corporation” <Presbyterian Church> are going Heaven too so [Eternity] wont be sequestered-now [at all] – Say I may wait for you – say I need go with no stranger to the to me untried [country] fold – I waited a long time – Master – but I can wait more – wait till my hazel hair is dappled – and you carry the cane – then I can look at my watch – and if the Day is too far declined – we can take the chances [of] for Heaven – What would you do with me if I came “in white?” Have you the little chest to put the Alive-in?

“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?].”

What care the Dead, for Chanticleer —
What care the Dead for Day?
‘Tis late your Sunrise vex their face —
And Purple Ribaldry — of Morning

Pour as blank on them
As on the Tier of Wall
The Mason builded, yesterday,
And equally as cool —

What care the Dead for Summer?
The Solstice had no Sun
Could waste the Snow before their Gate —
And knew One Bird a Tune —

Could thrill their Mortised Ear
Of all the Birds that be —
This One — beloved of Mankind
Henceforward cherished be —

What care the Dead for Winter?
Themselves as easy freeze —
June Noon — as January Night —
As soon the South — her Breeze

Of Sycamore — or Cinnamon —
Deposit in a Stone
And put a Stone to keep it Warm —
Give Spices — unto Men —

With this poem, ‘What care I for the dead’ (F624), ED hints at an answer to my implied question of the previous poem, “I wonder whether ED ever reached that entirely reasonable, anxiety-relieving, and simply stated belief: there is no there there.” The answer leans yes, at least for this poem, F624.

Prayer is the little implement
Through which Men reach
Where Presence — is denied them –
They fling their Speech

By means of it — in God’s Ear —
If then He hear —
This sums the Apparatus
Comprised in Prayer —

As ED poem succeeds ED poem, it feels she moves gradually from “God the loving Father” to “God the Watchmaker” to “God the Unconcerned” to “God the Deaf, Dumb, and Blind” to “God the Human Invention”. That final nihilistic tenet leaves us expecting nothing, nada, nichts after death. I wonder whether ED ever reached that entirely reasonable, anxiety-relieving, and simply stated belief: there is no there there.

ED, you are a courageous miracle.

To interrupt His Yellow Plan
The Sun does not allow
Caprices of the Atmosphere —
And even when the Snow

Heaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious Boy
Directly in His Eye —
Does not so much as turn His Head
Busy with Majesty —

‘Tis His to stimulate the Earth —
And magnetize the Sea —
And bind Astronomy, in place,
Yet Any passing by

Would deem Ourselves — the busier
As the minutest Bee
That rides — emits a Thunder —
A Bomb — to justify —

” ‘Tis His to stimulate the Earth —”: Sun’s cycles spur spring flowers, ripen summer hay, paint autumn red, shape winter snow.

“And magnetize the Sea —”: Sun’s pull tugs oceans into tides.

“And bind Astronomy, in place”: Sun’s gravity binds planets in their place.

Ancient Egyptians had it right: Ra deserves worship above all other gods. He gives us life and asks nothing in return. He will die, but Homo (un)sapiens will be gone and forgotten. Did ED sense these truths in 1863 when she wrote this poem?

The Wind — tapped like a tired Man —
And like a Host — “Come in”
I boldly answered — entered then
My Residence within

A Rapid — footless Guest —
To offer whom a Chair
Were as impossible as hand
A Sofa to the Air —

No Bone had He to bind Him —
His Speech was like the Push
Of numerous Humming Birds at once
From a superior Bush —

His Countenance — a Billow —
His Fingers, as He passed
Let go a music — as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass —

He visited — still flitting —
Then like a timid Man
Again, He tapped — ’twas flurriedly —
And I became alone —

Is the “Wind” an allegory for something else? Some contenders:

1. The wind is simply the wind.

2. A Ruby-throated Hummingbird.

3. Physical existence:

“So this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant” (Bede, 731 AD)

4.Spiritual existence:

“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.” (Macbeth, 1606)

5. Charles Wadsworth: Wadsworth blew into her life in March 1855 and out in May 1862, “And I became alone —”.

6. And the winner is: All of the above and many more.

If any sink, assure that this, now standing —
Failed like Themselves — and conscious that it rose —
Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding
How Weakness passed — or Force — arose —

Tell that the Worst, is easy in a Moment –
Dread, but the Whizzing, before the Ball –
When the Ball enters, enters Silence –
Dying – annuls the power to kill –

An interpretation, sans corpse. Death of a Love, on May1, 1862:

If you fail and sink, be assured that I, now standing –
Failed like you – and, conscious that I rose –
Grew brave in heart, without understanding
How weakness passed – or Strength – returned –

Know that the Pain is bearable if Dread is brief –
Like the whizzing of the Ball before it strikes.
When it Strikes, Silence reigns –
Dying, in heart or head, annuls your will to kill.