Poem 4/April 2
(Johnson 348)
I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I'm some accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though —
I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by —
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me —
I dared not meet the Daffodils —
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own —
I wished the Grass would hurry —
So — when 'twas time to see —
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch — to look at me —
I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?
They're here, though; not a creature failed —
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me —
The Queen of Calvary —
Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums —
*
This amazing poem--one of the strangest spring poems Dickinson, or anyone, ever wrote--matches, or mis-matches, Dickinson's inner feelings against the allegedly joyous displays of Spring. It's one of ED's poems of complex retrospected anticipation--she's looking back upon looking forward. It's also one of the great poems about shame or embarrassment. Some of the verbs are incredibly strong and violent and shocking ("pierce"/"mangle"); the imagery, unsettling (those "pianos in the woods" haunt me!! I know it's birdsong, but I can't help but see some kind of haunted, ruined piano in a forest, playing...)
It's specifically an Easter poem. ED, who is either Christ's wife or his mother, Mary (Calvary is the sight of the crucifixion) makes "bereaved acknowledgement" of the passing displays of Spring.
(Johnson 348)
I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I'm some accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though —
I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by —
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me —
I dared not meet the Daffodils —
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own —
I wished the Grass would hurry —
So — when 'twas time to see —
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch — to look at me —
I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?
They're here, though; not a creature failed —
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me —
The Queen of Calvary —
Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums —
*
This amazing poem--one of the strangest spring poems Dickinson, or anyone, ever wrote--matches, or mis-matches, Dickinson's inner feelings against the allegedly joyous displays of Spring. It's one of ED's poems of complex retrospected anticipation--she's looking back upon looking forward. It's also one of the great poems about shame or embarrassment. Some of the verbs are incredibly strong and violent and shocking ("pierce"/"mangle"); the imagery, unsettling (those "pianos in the woods" haunt me!! I know it's birdsong, but I can't help but see some kind of haunted, ruined piano in a forest, playing...)
It's specifically an Easter poem. ED, who is either Christ's wife or his mother, Mary (Calvary is the sight of the crucifixion) makes "bereaved acknowledgement" of the passing displays of Spring.
The other day--quite nippy, with the sky so clear, the air with its "freshly laundered light"-- as I was walking my dog, I happened to look at the forsythia and the daffodils, both of whose ferociously yellow flowers seemed garishly over-bright, frivolous, and hard to even look at, without fear of scorching my eyes! The day felt less like spring and more like the tail- end of winter; and then, given the surreal reality of Covid-19 devouring human life everywhere, these flowers indeed seemed out of place. So, I could really identify with ED, in her description of the inappropriateness of the joy of new life that spring bodes, given --in her case--the incongruity of her inner life with the seasonal outer life.
ReplyDeleteShe was so deeply in touch with the inevitable cycle of love/life and loss/death that even at the start of the season of rebirth, she could not help but hear-- beneath the rising chorus of bird song-- and see-- beyond the incipient faces of young blossoms-- the "unthinking Drums" of Time: signalling the inevitable demise of all that is once young, pure, and vibrant. Hence, her "bereaved acknowledgement"--as she lifts "her plumes"---symbol of a custom at the time, of carrying ostrich feathers, representing the cycle of life and death, in a funeral procession as a sign of grief.
This insight on her part would perhaps also make her hesitant to give herself to any joy in such beauty, knowing that the end of the season would bring unbearable grief and loss to one as vulnerably sensitive as she.
from Margaret:
ReplyDeleteHere are my comments on the Robin poem this week, which I was unfortunately unable to publish myself.
That detail that Calvary is the site of the crucifixion and thus ED is casting herself as Mary or the wife of Christ really interests me. This poem is obviously a very different approach to the season and the holiday. Instead of spring being positive, a time of beauty and renewal, she presents it as a time of grief. Or at least, for someone grieving someone who dies in the spring, as those who loved Christ would have, then the turning of the season would be a painful reminder of that death. It makes me wonder about ED's own life, and if this feeling she something she herself experienced (since I know a lot of her friends died) and she is just exploring it by putting those feelings into a recognizable figure with a recognizable loss around the same time.
I like to look in the pages immediately before and after the poem we’re focusing on, just as a way to read more of ED’s poetry, and so that I can look for poems which seem to relate to it in content or word choice. It’s fun to try and figure out what was going through her mind and happening in her life at any given point. Poem 364 in the Johnson seems almost like another version of this one: spring juxtaposed with grief, and mentions of Calvary.
The Morning after Woe
’Tis frequently the Way
Surpasses all that rose before—
For utter Jubilee—
As Nature did not care—
And piled her Blossoms on—
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon—
The Birds declaim their Tunes
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers—Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead—
On here and there — a creature —
They’d modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef—
Some Key of Calvary
Both of these poems are a condemnation of nature’s inability to match up with the emotional landscape of grieving. The second one has even more irony. According to ED, the day after woe (and note the play on morning/mourning) is always the most beautiful. But in the second one, some parts of nature conform to what the speaker needs, which she describes in beautiful terms of musical notation: key and clef.
An aside: the third stanza of the first poem reminded me of some lines from Twelfth Night, although I'm SURE it's not intentional.
I dared not meet the Daffodils--
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own--
seems like Maria, talking about Olivia will react to Malvolio:
He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is
The language isn't really similar, but the sentiment is, and the parallel of yellow is too fun! I'm a huge Twelfth Night fan so I had to mention it.