POEM 1/ March 30
I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl —
Life's little duties do — precisely —
As the very least
Were infinite — to me —
I put new Blossoms in the Glass —
And throw the old — away —
I push a petal from my Gown
That anchored there — I weigh
The time 'twill be till six o'clock
I have so much to do —
And yet — Existence — some way back —
Stopped — struck — my ticking — through —
Life's little duties do — precisely —
As the very least
Were infinite — to me —
I put new Blossoms in the Glass —
And throw the old — away —
I push a petal from my Gown
That anchored there — I weigh
The time 'twill be till six o'clock
I have so much to do —
And yet — Existence — some way back —
Stopped — struck — my ticking — through —
We cannot put Ourself away
As a completed Man
Or Woman — When the Errand's done
We came to Flesh — upon —
There may be — Miles on Miles of Nought —
Of Action — sicker far —
To simulate — is stinging work —
To cover what we are
From Science — and from Surgery —
As a completed Man
Or Woman — When the Errand's done
We came to Flesh — upon —
There may be — Miles on Miles of Nought —
Of Action — sicker far —
To simulate — is stinging work —
To cover what we are
From Science — and from Surgery —
Too Telescopic Eyes
To bear on us unshaded —
For their — sake — not for Ours —
'Twould start them —
We — could tremble —
But since we got a Bomb —
And held it in our Bosom —
Nay — Hold it — it is calm —
Therefore — we do life's labor —
Though life's Reward — be done —
With scrupulous exactness —
To hold our Senses — on —
To bear on us unshaded —
For their — sake — not for Ours —
'Twould start them —
We — could tremble —
But since we got a Bomb —
And held it in our Bosom —
Nay — Hold it — it is calm —
Therefore — we do life's labor —
Though life's Reward — be done —
With scrupulous exactness —
To hold our Senses — on —
*
This little poem about the agony of "weighing" the time "till six o'clock" is one of Dickinson's great explorations of domestic routine as measured against eternity. "I have much to do" she writes; and yet "existence--some way back--/stopped--stuck--my ticking through."
I chose to look at it first in our "stopped--stuck" semester, because we're all suddenly keenly aware of "existence" itself as we reestablish routines "as the very least/ were infinite." I'm sure it has occurred to you that our interiors--our bounded environments, however large or small, and wherever we find ourselves--are suddenly our entire worlds; our predicament or opportunity mirrors Dickinson's.
As in so many of ED's poems, the missing integer--the "answer" if you like--is poetry itself, in fact THIS very poem itself. Robert Frost writes, in a letter, "all virtue in 'as if'": he means that poetry can convert "life's little duties" to "infinite" realities by acts of pretending. For Frost, it was often manual labor--farming, mowing, picking grapes, picking apples--which gave a view of the infinite; for Dickinson, it's often domestic work, "duties"--household duties, or, as here, the "duties" of a woman preparing all afternoon for a dinner or social gathering--which can be turned, via poetry, into timelessness.
The poem has an interesting history. Franklin locates the lines about the Bomb in an entirely other poem:
(508)
A Pit — but Heaven over it —
A Pit — but Heaven over it —
And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad;
And yet a Pit —
With Heaven over it.
To stir would be to slip —
To look would be to drop —
To dream — to sap the Prop
That holds my chances up.
Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it!
The depth is all my thought —
I dare not ask my feet —
'Twould start us where we sit
So straight you'd scarce suspect
It was a Pit — with fathoms under it —
It's Circuit just the same
Whose Doom to whom
'Twould start them –
We – could tremble –
But since we got a Bomb –
And held it in our Bosom –
Nay – Hold it – it is calm –
*
So, in the comments section, I welcome any and all responses and any and all kinds of responses. If the question of those lines in bold, above, interests you, then see if you can find out on the archive or through other research what's up. I'd also welcome comments on some of the lines/images/distinctions that intrigue you, or especially characteristic words or ideas you've encountered from other ED poems, or things that seem surprising, out of left field.
We'll discuss this poem tomorrow in our Zoom session--more on that soon.
Dan
Hello! It's so welcome to have some kind of normalcy return to my life through the exercises of this class - to return to "Life's little duties" as it were. I think by reading more Dickinson and working on the journal for this class I will be able to dive more deeply into the poetry itself, but for now I can't help but feel Dickinson's language as visceral reminders of the now.
ReplyDeleteToday feels like I'm putting "new Blossoms in" /my/ "Glass" - taking out what has sat in my bed with me for two weeks and finding something new, something that wishes to be renewed, rejuvenated. Do others feel similar? This return to Wellesley, although digital, brings me a new sense of calm that I haven't had in quite awhile.
The line that honestly made me tear up this morning was: "We cannot put Ourself away". Because somehow that's exactly what I feel has happened to me. I feel like I have put away a part of myself for this time of transition, and only now have I woken up and decided to come back, come out, come "to Flesh" once again. It's really truly remarkable how Emily's words can continue to have such impact - and now, when we are at home, turning to art, music, literature, poetry, theater to make us feel human - Emily's poems are some of the best.
Thank you!
Paige
P.S. Professor - I was always able to understand the poem better once it was read out loud, do you know of any online resources of people reading her poems or if you could attach a recording of you reading the week's poems? Or I could probably just wait for the Zoom sessions to hear us say them. Just a thought/idea!
"There may be — Miles on Miles of Nought —
ReplyDeleteOf Action — sicker far —
To simulate — is stinging work —
To cover what we are"
This paragraph in particular speaks to me; I love how Emily seems to equate "Nought" to "Action". It makes me think that we are all doing so much right now, precisely by sitting still. This "predicament or opportunity", as Dan refers to it, offers us a chance to truly contemplate ourselves and the small world we are confined to, much in the same way Emily spent her life doing. For me, the key in this exercise comes with understanding why one might choose this lifestyle - as opposed to succumbing to it as we have done - by trying to experience the pleasures and excitements that can come with it: a minimalist lifestyle? A simple, consistent routine? Quality time with loved ones? A concentrated sense of community?
More time to write poetry?
The poem suggests that the narrator experienced an event that resulted in her feeling like her life had lost all its meaning. One way Dickinson conveys the woman’s dreary attitude towards life is through unusual flower imagery. Flowers are normally used in poetry as a symbol of life, joy, beauty, and love (we know that Dickinson was intimately familiar with flowers; in many of her poems she uses flowers as symbols of beauty, passion and vitality). But in this poem, the flowers are practically lifeless. The speaker takes no pleasure in them, and they simply constitute a part of her daily routine: the woman mechanically puts “new Blossoms in the Glass— and throws the old”. In the next image, she pushes a petal from her dress; the flowers “anchored” there, conveying a sense of heaviness.
ReplyDeleteIn response to a world seemingly devoid of meaning, the woman attempts to make “the very least” become “infinite”. Her way of trying to turn mundane domestic tasks into rites reminds me of the concept of mindfulness from Buddhist teachings. According to Buddhist Pema Chodron, by practicing non-attachment, accepting loss, being gentle with ourselves and focusing on the present moment, we can experience a sense of joy. However, for the speaker, focusing “with scrupulous exactness” on her domestic duties is less an experience of joy and more a means of survival. The poem hints that the speaker is barely able to “hold her senses on”.. to readers, the “infiniteness” the speaker speaks of comes across as remote in comparison to the speaker's overpowering feelings of hollowness and loss. There’s a sad finality to the way the speaker says that her “life’s Reward” is done. Perhaps in this poem Dickinson is simply trying to delineate a realistic human reaction to a recent loss. Does she mean to say that grieving loss and finding new rhythms, routine and meanings takes time? Curious to hear y'alls thoughts.
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ReplyDeleteI, like a few others here, was really taken by how relevant this poem felt. Thank you for choosing it. I looked up on the Emily Dickinson archive the Pit but heaven over poem, and honestly did not gain any insights from this search. I was never the best at reading her handwriting to begin with however. I hope someone can find a better trail than I did.
ReplyDeleteI’m really interested in the lines beginning with “to simulate - is stinging work-/ to cover what we are”. To be really honest, I’m very confused about them and would love if anyone had a better reading on them than I did. What really got me are the lines “Too Telescopic Eyes/To bear on us unshaded - “. I get the sense of play between to/too/two, which I’ve been thinking about. I love the image of “two telescopic eyes”, as if knowledge can be personified in this all-knowing, human-faced entity. The idea of knowledge being “too telescopic” - too vast to ever really understand or know- really interests me. I’ve been trying to make sense of this and what I’ve understood is the study of humanity and of this world “from science - and from surgery -“ puts the overwhelming vastness and problems of human life on display, and perhaps also instills in humanity a false sense of security and knowingness when we can never truly grasp eternity. Or the idea that the knowing of the universe would “bear on us unshaded” - reminds me of “before I got my eye put out,” in a way. The final lines of the stanza regarding the bomb got me thinking about this false sense of safety we often feel in a “thing” or technological/knowledge advancement that can protect us - in this case a closely held bomb. This section of the poem felt like a rumination on the vastness of the world and the limits - and pain of those limits - in what we can understand.
I feel like I might have misinterpreted this section and that’s why I’m interested in hearing what anybody else got from this. I felt like this was a tangent within the poem that I didn’t understand as well as the bookending lines.
I found myself struck by the small monotonies of especially the first poem. As others have mentioned, this poem feels particularly poignant in an unusual time like this. Though there is a crisis out in the world, I find myself, like many others, homebound and bored. There, the domesticities of life at home and in a family have become the framework over which my day is laid. When I get up I walk the dog and then its breakfast and dishes, a run and a shower, wiping down surfaces and throwing in a load of laundry, by which time I should probably figure out lunch...and so on for the rest of the day. Emily is able to expertly capture that balance of tedious busyness:
ReplyDelete"I have so much to do —
And yet — Existence — some way back —
Stopped..."
I was particularly intrigued by the stretching and shrinking of time even within the same metaphor. A ticking sound can give a poem a sense of temporal regularity, but in this particular case, the sound seems almost detached from 'real' time as the mind expands and contracts its intervals. The artificially slow ticking of the house clock as Emily waits interminably for the time to strike "six o'clock" gives that time a drawn out feeling. Conversely, for me the sounds reappears at the mention of the bomb. Each tick of the bomb brings the world of the poem closer to violent destruction, and thus the intervals between ticks are much too short, as time rushes past.
I would love to hear other ways people felt like the poem's time passed irregularly.
[This is Chloe N's deleted post]
ReplyDeleteWhat struck me the most in this poem was the underlying – and overt – explosive tension present throughout. We've talked so much about Dickinson's fascination with volcanoes, and I feel that suspenseful 'volcanic stillness' as a strong presence here. While this piece is far from still (with all of its initial active 'little duties'), I get that same sense of the calm before the storm. Once the speaker exclaims (so simply, so perfectly, so anxiously?) 'I have so much to do,' the poem shifts – 'stops' – is 'struck.' As is the speaker, as are we. The multitude of dashes in
'Stopped — struck — my ticking — through —'
forces us to slow down our own reading, but also brings us into a new, halting ticking rhythm. For the rest of the long stanza, I felt a sense of unease as the syntax became muddier, the ideas more eternal, more dangerous – culminating in the menacing Bomb she presses against our Bosom! That terrifying couplet,
'But since we got a Bomb —
And held it in our Bosom —'
rushes us, mostly dashless, through, until Dickinson turns us around in a slow-paced emotional 180º...
'Nay – Hold it – it is calm –'
and gives us a stanza break to gather ourselves before the final lines. I suppose all of this, together, creates a scene in which the 'little duties' form the stoic, unassuming rocky exterior of a volcano from an outsider's view. For the doer, however, these 'little' labors allow for a mental dive into the fiery core of existence – the explosive lava inside.
(This is Margaret's comment)
ReplyDelete"The beginning of this poem is Dickinson being literal, which she rarely is. She's listing concrete, physical actions she's taking, with "I [verb]" statements: "I tie," "I crease," "I put," "I push." Then, with "And yet -- Existence -- some way back -- stopped" the whole poem changes. This is where it really begins, for me. Suddenly Dickinson's true voice returns, with these beautiful poetic musings. Now we get two long lines with lots of dashes in them. Classic Emily!
The word "bomb" also stuck out to me, if only because...it feels too modern for ED? Like, what kind of bombs did they have back in the Civil War? Perhaps, because of all the historical context that I have, and the relative power/scope of bombs today versus in her time (I assume), "But since we got a Bomb" is almost frightening. You also see her cleverness with words: it's not "held it TO our bosom," it's "held it IN our bosom." That slight play on what is expected gives the image much more power. Now the bomb is not just something you're holding, it's a part of you. Like Chloe said, this specific part of the poem reminded me of her writing about volcanoes, especially "we -- could tremble.""
The sentiment of turning domestic duties into timelessness is certainly not lost on me at this point. Self-isolation is doing a lot for our sense of time; it has been stretching and flowing in completely non uniform ways for me. I feel as though I'm becoming my own Emily Dickinson in my house, stretching long swaths of time by making bread or chopping my garlic by hand instead of using some easier tool. As Margaret noted, the beginning of this poem is so literal that it feels like her actual to-do list, and once she mentions the halting of existence, it's as though she herself catapults out into existential musings on time and space.
ReplyDeleteIt feels as though she's zooming in and out from "miles and miles of nought" to "too telescopic eyes"- it's a very jarring kaleidoscopic way of looking at existence, which does feel very existential and familiar from a place of spending days tied to the home and to one specific space. The repeated lines about the bomb struck me because they do fit neatly into each piece, in completely different ways. I took her usage of the bomb in the first piece as that same sentiment I spoke of before of constant shift in emotion. At one moment she may feel she could explode but then at another, the bomb is calm, neutralized, able to be held. The second piece gives a sense of tension as well, especially in the lines about the bomb, but the tension speaks more to the unknown as opposed to the expressly known, the emptiness of the pit- how any slight move- "to stir", "to look" would be disaster. The bomb here presents a fall into the unknown, but we are assured at the end of this piece that it is calm, and for now we are safe.
There is such an expanse of emotion and tension held in that first piece as ED considers the infinity of herself in her home, as a woman (doing household duties), and on the earth.
Really useful one, compact yet packed with important points.Thank You very much for the effort to make the hard one looks so simple. Further, you can access this site to read Dickinson’s Attitude Towards Life and Love
ReplyDelete