Poem-A-Day/April 22
(Johnson 510)
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down —
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos — crawl —
Nor Fire — for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool —
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine —
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And 'twas like Midnight, some -
When everything that ticked — has stopped —
And Space stares all around —
Or Grisly frosts — first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground —
But, most, like Chaos - Stopless — cool —
Without a Chance, or Spar —
Or even a Report of Land —
To justify — Despair.
***
The mind registers this impasse as a death, but the senses keep contradicting it. This extraordinary poem is a kind of inventory of sensation, one shocking image after another. We'll discuss it Friday, so I'll keep my comments short. Note the word "repeal" (as in "repealless list"); the images of bells (amazingly, with their tongues stuck out "for noon"); and the word "despair" which we find in so many poems of this period.
(Johnson 510)
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down —
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos — crawl —
Nor Fire — for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool —
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine —
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And 'twas like Midnight, some -
When everything that ticked — has stopped —
And Space stares all around —
Or Grisly frosts — first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground —
But, most, like Chaos - Stopless — cool —
Without a Chance, or Spar —
Or even a Report of Land —
To justify — Despair.
***
The mind registers this impasse as a death, but the senses keep contradicting it. This extraordinary poem is a kind of inventory of sensation, one shocking image after another. We'll discuss it Friday, so I'll keep my comments short. Note the word "repeal" (as in "repealless list"); the images of bells (amazingly, with their tongues stuck out "for noon"); and the word "despair" which we find in so many poems of this period.
I agree with your reading that this poem really relies on sensation and interesting imagery. I went on the Dickinson archive and found that there are some alternate words from fascicle 85 (words written in the poem with the "+") in the second stanza, which is the one I found to be the most interesting to begin with. The alternate reads:
ReplyDelete"It was not frost, for on my knees/ I felt Siroccos-crawl-/Nor Fire- for just two marble feet/ could keep a chancel, cool -"
I think the addition of knees in place of flesh gives the stanza an immediately more religious feel - on her knees as if in prayer. I also just find it interesting that the siroccos - which is such an interesting word choice and I think really reflects Dickinson's knowledge of the natural world - would burn up her knees rather than her flesh, bringing an image to me of someone kneeling down for far too long, perhaps stuck there. "Flesh" brings the image to her fully body, but "knees" locks in place where she would feel this discomfort. I looked up the definition and etymology of sirocco and I couldn't find anything all that interesting, but I really wonder how she came to this word choice. Once knowing that it means a hot wind (specifically in the Mediterranean), I think the image is really compelling, but I just wonder where she got this word. I guess it lines up with some earlier poems we read where she would interject scientific names for plant parts and other natural phenomena.