ED-LarryB

No matter — now — Sweet —
But when I’m Earl —
Won’t you wish you’d spoken
To that dull Girl?

Trivial a Word — just —
Trivial — a Smile —
But won’t you wish you’d spared one
When I’m Earl?

I shan’t need it — then —
Crests — will do —
Eagles on my Buckles —
On my Belt — too —

Ermine — my familiar Gown —
Say — Sweet — then
Won’t you wish you’d smiled — just —
Me opon?

As a history/biography nut, I have to wonder who the “you” is in this poem, F734.

The poet was hurt and angry because a friend or lover had, in her opinion, slighted her poetry or person. My candidates for guilty are Charles Wadsworth or Susan Dickinson or both.
Sam Bowles rarely replied to her letters and poems, so nothing was expected from him, and both ED and Wadsworth arranged for burning all mutual letters when they died, so we have no direct evidence that she ever called him “Sweet”.

Sue’s story was more complicated:

My count is that ED referred to Sue as “Sweet” at least seven times in previous poems and, I think, twice in this poem, F734: Line 1, “No matter-now-Sweet,” (Line 1) and “Say – Sweet – then”, (Line 14).

As teenagers, Emily and Sue devoured Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra together and proudly adopted respective roles of “prince” and “his” queen. But for Sue, marriage, socializing, and children ended those playful patterns. Sue loved to plan and host social gatherings at Evergreens, to which ED was not invited. Perhaps ED disliked chit-chat, or perhaps her conversation took unpredictable turns inappropriate for Amherst social prattle.

In any case, ensuing estrangement, evinced by this poem, resulted in a 15-year hiatus in ED’s visits to Evergreens (1868-1883). Fortunately, estrangement did not extend to their shared love of poetry, “our common quest”, as Sue said in her eulogy below. A lifelong flow of poems and notes crossed the meadow between ‘Homestead’ and ‘Evergreens’, at first via hired help or postal mail, later by Sue’s children.

Five years after ED’s death, Sue described her “strangling” relationship with ED, “the prince / Strangling vines clasping their Cleopatras”, Susan:

“Minstrel of the passing days
Sing me the song of all the ways
That snare the soul in the October haze
Song of the dark glory of the hills
When dyes are frightened to dull hues
Of all the gaudy shameless tints
That fire the passions of the prince
Strangling vines clasping their Cleopatras
Closer than Antony’s embrace
Whole rims of haze in pink
Horizons be as if new worlds hew
Shaping off our common quest –“

(Susan Dickinson 1891):

It was too late for ED to reply, but I’m sure it would have been a zinger.

Susan Dickinson, 1891, Downloaded July 31, 2022, https://archive.emilydickinson.org/susan/tmins.html

Out of sight? What of that?
See the Bird—reach it!
Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep—
Round the Steep Air—
Danger! What is that to Her?
Better ’tis to fail—there—
Than debate—here—

Blue is Blue—the World through—
Amber—Amber—Dew—Dew—
Seek—Friend—and see—
Heaven is shy of Earth—that’s all—
Bashful Heaven—thy Lovers small—
Hide—too—from thee—

ED imagines herself a bird, “Out of sight? What of that? // Danger! What is that to Her?”.

Watch out “Bashful Heaven” with “thy Lovers small”!

Watch out “Earth”, ED is ready to play: “Blue is Blue – the World through – / Amber -Amber – Dew – Dew –”.

Could ED be riffing on the previous poem (F732, second half of 1863) about a shy visitor, perhaps a minister, who is “Bashful Heaven – with “Lovers small”? As she said, “Heaven is shy of Earth –”.

Could ED be imagining / imaging herself as “Earth”, a brash, bold Earthy lover? You bet she could, just “Seek – Friend – and see -”!

Poor Reverend Wadsworth, if he was the shy visitor of the previous poem, he had no idea whom he was visiting.

A first Mute Coming—
In the Stranger’s House—
A first fair Going—
When the Bells rejoice—

A first Exchange—of
What hath mingled—been—
For Lot—exhibited to
Faith—alone—

ED gives us few clues to decipher F732. She mentions the Old Testament character, “Lot”, and she emphatically repeats , “A first” in Lines 1, 3, 5: “A first Mute Coming”, “A first fair Going”, “A first Exchange”. Lot’s life before disguised angels arrived at his door was an exhibition of faith in God, just as the relationship between visitor and visitee, who had never met in person, had “mingled – been – ” by years of shared correspondence.

An interpretation:

A mute (shy) person came to the house of someone he had never met, and they exchanged something that they had previously shared in correspondence but not in person. Like Lot whose steadfast faith in God spared his family when Sodom and Gomorrah burned, the visitor and visitee have built a trusting relationship by “Faith – alone -” during extended correspondence, and now they meet face-to-face. During this initially bashful but later joyful visit they exchange some tangible token of their love for each other, and then they part, “A first fair Going – / When the Bells rejoice –”, metaphorical wedding bells for a metaphorical bride and groom.

Several contemporary accounts attest Wadsworth was painfully shy among strangers and new acquaintances. For example, five months after Wadsworth’s death, ED wrote his best friend, James D. Clark (L994, August 22, 1882):

“Dear friend,

“. . . . . In an 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. . . . .

“E. Dickinson.”

A Thought went up my mind today –
That I have had before –
But did not finish – some way back –
I could not fix the Year –

Nor where it went – nor why it came
The second time to me –
Nor definitely, what it was –
Have I the Art to say –

But somewhere – in my Soul – I know –
I’ve met the Thing before –
It just reminded me – ‘twas all –
And came my way no more –

My poet wife, Louise, once told me that a mystical experience is something our body/mind creates when our body/mind needs a mystical experience. Circular? Perhaps. ED says “it came / The second time to me”, whatever the “it” is, and then “it” came my way no more.

As a quantitative scientist, I would say that the probability the wordings of these two couplets are similar due to random chance is less than 1 in 10,000:

“Nature” is what We know –
But have no art to say”

and

“Nor definitely, what it was –
Have I the art to say” ,

In statistical language, the probability is in the neighborhood of P < 0.0001. A scientist would reject the null hypothesis that there is no relationship between the lines if the chances they were unrelated were less than 1 in 100 (P < 0.01), and P < 0.0001 is one hundred times less likely than P < 0.01.

Cutting the jargon, these two poems are extremely likely to be closely related, and, if so, their interpretations must also be closely related, which brings me back to hypothesize that “it” is one or more mystical experiences. The circumstantial evidence is compelling to me.

ED’s alternate word in parentheses. My word interpretations in brackets.

There is a June when Corn is cut
And Roses in the Seed—
A Summer briefer than the first
But tenderer indeed

As should a Face supposed the Grave’s
Emerge a single Noon
In the Vermilion that it wore
Affect us, and return—

Two Seasons, it is said, exist—
The Summer of the Just
And this of Ours, diversified
With Prospect [Expected joy], and with Frost [Pain] —

May not our Second with its First
So infinite compare
That We but recollect the one
The other to prefer (adore)?

Stanza 1

In western Massachusetts, corn (maize) was harvested in late summer/early autumn, not June, which is the clue that this poem is about Indian Summer, a period of warm, sunny, and dry weather that occurs in the autumn, usually after the first frost. Though brief, Indian Summer resurrects fleeting feelings of summertime, which ED described as “tenderer indeed”.

Stanza 2

A memory of a ruddy-cheeked face that ED thought she’d never see again appeared for a single “Noon”, woke memories of a “summer’s day” (perhaps Fr325, 1862?) in 1860, then vanished into time. For ED, that face was Wadsworth’s.

So much for Stanzas 1-2, but then along comes Stanza 3, which adds some boundaries to our interpretations [brackets mine]:

Stanza 3

Two Seasons, it is said, exist—
The Summer of the Just
And this of Ours, diversified
With Prospect [Expected joy], and with Frost [Pain] —

ED’s “First” summer was her “Summer of the Just” (Line 10), where “Just” means “perfected ones; those made whole” [EDLex, Definition 2 of “Just”].

ED realized that Indian Summer, her earthly “Second” summer, would be “diversified / With Prospect [Expected Joy], and with Frost [Pain]”, but she felt that “Frost” on Earth would be worth enduring when she finally arrives at her Heavenly “Second” summer with Wadsworth:

“. . . we shall rise—
Deposed—at length—the Grave—
To that new Marriage—
Justified—through Calvaries of Love!”

‘There came a Day—at Summer’s full’, Fr325, Stanza 7

Stanza 4

“May not our Second [“Summer”] with its First
So infinite compare
That We but recollect the one [the first summer]
The other to prefer?”

 

This poem, ‘There is a June when Corn is cut’ (F811), got me wondering how many “Indian Summer” poems ED composed. The answer is at least nine:

1. F122 ‘These are the days when Birds come back’
   2. F265 ‘It cant be “Summer”!’
   3. F363 ‘I know a place where Summer strives’
   4. F408 ‘Like some Old fashioned Miracle’
   5. F520 ‘God made a little Gentian’
   6. F811 ‘There is a June when Corn is cut’
   7. F1412 ‘How know it from a Summer’s Day?’
   8. F1419 ‘A – Field of Stubble, lying sere’
   9. F1457 ‘Summer has two Beginnings‘

My primary source for finding eight of these poem titles was ‘Emily Dickinson: Notes on All Her Poems’ by David Preest, which was available free on the Internet until a few years ago. Tom C added the ninth in his comment of October 1, 2025, on The Prowling Bee ( ‘There is a June when Corn is cut’, F811)

Love reckons by itself—alone
“As large as I”—relate the Sun
To One who never felt it blaze—
Itself is all the like it has—

I feel the aloneness of the speaker. The poem is I-oriented, not we-oriented. Knowing ED’s preference for isolation in her bedroom and her inclination for self-absorption, Lines 3 and 4 seem pseudo-wise words based on limited personal experience.

This poem tracks with a few other poems in Fascicle 35 in which Dickinson wonders why an unnamed friend is withholding their smile.” Both her premier biographer, Sewall (1974), and an insightful Ph.D. student, Murray (1988), commented on ED feeling rejected:

Sewall (1974), ED’s premier biographer, put it bluntly:

“[ED’s] failures, certainly, were with people. Throughout her life, she never achieved a single, wholly satisfying relationship with anybody she had to be near, or with, for any length of time. Vinnie was the closest, perhaps; but even she spoke of her family as living together like “friendly and absolute monarchs” (Higginson, we recall, likened them to federated states in a commonwealth, where “each member runs his or her own selves”). . . . .

“All her life she demanded too much of people. Her early girl friends could hardly keep up with her tumultuous letters or, like Sue, could not or would not take her into their lives as she wanted to be taken. They had other concerns. The young men, save for a few who had amusing or edifying intellectual exchanges with her, apparently shied away. Eliza Coleman’s fear that her friends in Amherst  “wholly misinterpret” her, was a polite way of saying, perhaps, that they would not respond with the intensity she apparently demanded of everyone. She seemed unable to take friendship casually, nor could she be realistic about love. The result was excessive tension at every meeting, so that meetings themselves became ordeals. One such meeting was enough for Higginson (“I am glad not to live near her”); in her own economy, she found that she had to ration them very carefully. And when she fell in love, all this was further intensified. The one meeting recorded in this letter, when she asked her Master for Redemption, spelled at once her joy and her tragedy. It exalted her-she bloomed like the rose, she soared like the bird-but it plunged her into “Chillon,” the captive of her own soaring fantasy about love.”

Similarly, Murray (1988) observes, “Dickinson established a traceable pattern of behavior in her girlhood friendships that she continued into the relationships of her adult life. When she discovered a person who potentially shared her feelings about a certain subject, she responded with surprise, enthusiasm, and selfishness. . . . In Dickinson’s pattern, after initial discovery, the friendship would blossom and grow, fueled by a great profusion of letters sharing confidences, feelings, and ideas. In these letters, she engaged her fertile imagination, savoring the kinship that she perceived between her and the kindred spirit she believed she had found.

“The friend, at some point following the relationship’s blossoming, realized that he or she could not reciprocate with the same ardor, frequency, or depth of feeling as Emily, to meet the poet’s intense emotional, spiritual, or intellectual needs. The friend then usually withdrew, withholding contact from her. Dickinson, then perceiving the slackening on the friend’s part, sought in letters to renew the friendship through chiding and wheedling. When these attempts failed to secure the desired results, she decided that the slowing of the friendship had occurred because of the friend’s disloyalty and betrayal, and she cooled in her once-passionate feelings for the friend. In most cases, correspondence stopped. And she opened once again the lid to what she called her “box of Phantoms” and put away another friend.” (Murray 1988).

ED coined her phrase, “Box of Phantoms”, in two letters, ML181 (JL177) and ML189 (JL186)

1. Sewall, Richard B. 1974. ‘The Life of Emily Dickinson’. 2 vols. New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux. [Also, ‘The Life of Emily Dickinson’, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, Kindle edition, pp 517-518]
2. Murray, Barbara M. 1988. The scarlet experiment: Emily Dickinson’s abortion experience. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Tennessee. 391 pages.  (https://www.proquest.com/openview/0eecb3a583e119ca3a94cde080a874d1/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=18750&diss=y)
3. Miller, C and Mitchell, D. 2024. The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Harvard University Press. Kindle Edition.

 

 

How well I knew Her not
Whom not to know has been
A Bounty in prospective, now
Next Door to mine the Pain.

Miller (2024) tells us ED sent this poem to Maria Whitney, about February 11, 1864. Austin visited Whitney in Northampton on February 11 before she sailed for California on the 13^th to look after the six children of her sister, Elizabeth Whitney Putnam, who died June 1863 in San Francisco.

I think the personal level of Fr813 runs deep, especially enjambed Lines 3 & 4: “now / Next Door to mine the Pain”. In her own way, ED empathizes with Maria’s loss of a sister because she has also lost a sister. In fact, ED’s “dead sister” lives “Next Door”, which daily “mine[s] the Pain”.

In March 1853 Susan and Austin became engaged after a tryst at the Revere Hotel in Boston. For obvious reasons, Sue had to cool her relationship with Emily, and on April 1, 1854, ED responded sharply to Sue (L172): “You can go or stay”.

In late 1858, perhaps as a birthday greeting on Sue’s birthday, 19 December, ED tried to mend bridges with ‘One Sister have I’ (Fr5, 1858), but the rift never healed.

“One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There’s only one recorded,
But both belong to me.

One came the road that I came —
And wore my last year’s gown —
The other, as a bird her nest,
Builded our hearts among.

She did not sing as we did —
It was a different tune —
Herself to her a music
As Bumble bee of June.

Today is far from Childhood —
But up and down the hills
I held her hand the tighter —
Which shortened all the miles —

And still her hum
The years among,
Deceives the Butterfly;
Still in her Eye
The Violets lie
Mouldered this many May.

I spilt the dew —
But took the morn —
I chose this single star
From out the wide night’s numbers —
Sue – forevermore!

Those last two stanzas are among the most poignant ED ever wrote. She “spilt the dew” and has been ruing it for 10 years (1854-1864).

Miller, C and Mitchell, D. 2024. The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Harvard University Press. Kindle Edition.