The Evergreens: A Blog for English 357

Poem-A-Day/April 14 (Johnson 596) When I was small, a Woman died — Today — her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac — His face all Victory To look at her — How slowly The Seasons must have turned Till Bullets clipt an Angle And He passed quickly round — If pride shall be in Paradise — Ourself cannot decide — Of their imperial Conduct — No person testified — But, proud in Apparition — That Woman and her Boy Pass back and forth, before my Brain As even in the sky — I'm confident that Bravoes — Perpetual break abroad For Braveries, remote as this In Scarlet Maryland — ** Again, we find Dickinson adapting her brilliant and weird sensibility to a mode not necessarily natural or suitable for her. This is very much in the vein (at least ostensibly) of sentimental, patriotic, rather weepy elegy. Note the sharp temporal juxtapositions of stanza 2, and the remarkable language in the second-to-last stanza (including "brain"--that most Dickinsonian of words!!)

Hi all! This is my first post on the class blog (or any blog that I can think of, for that matter…!) so I’m just going to give it my best shot. When I first got home, more than a month ago now, I found it impossible to write. As someone who is usually journaling all the time and who loves to write poetry, this felt uncomfortable and foreign. I think I was afraid to put down in words all of the tumult I was experiencing inside--or I was afraid that writing would reveal different kinds of tumult that I wasn’t even aware of experiencing. Maybe it was a bit of both. Regardless, although things are still very far from “normal,” I’ve finally started to write again, and it’s brought a sense of rhythm and creativity to my days which I wouldn’t trade for the world. As I’m sure many of us have, I’ve been thinking a lot about Emily recently, and how this forced reclusion we are all undergoing makes her poems, thoughts, and lived experiences that much more relevant and real. I’ve felt Emily...

Poem-A-Day/April 13 (Johnson 444) It feels a shame to be Alive — When Men so brave — are dead — One envies the Distinguished Dust — Permitted — such a Head — The Stone — that tells defending Whom This Spartan put away What little of Him we — possessed In Pawn for Liberty — The price is great — Sublimely paid — Do we deserve — a Thing — That lives — like Dollars — must be piled Before we may obtain? Are we that wait — sufficient worth — That such Enormous Pearl As life — dissolved be — for Us — In Battle's — horrid Bowl? It may be — a Renown to live — I think the Man who die — Those unsustained — Saviors — Present Divinity — ** We'll discuss last week's poems tomorrow on ZOOM--cf. my post from this weekend--but here is the first of several poems for you to consider, written during the Civil War.  Here is Dickinson adapting her very great, and very strange, gifts to a patriotic theme. How does she do so on her own terms? What would it have cost her, spiritually, to ...

Week of 4/12 Friends, On Tuesday's Zoom, we'll continue to discuss Dickinson's "wife" poems, and I'll ask you for some thoughts about Rich's "Vesuvius at Home." In addition, let's look at the following poems about, connected to, significantly synchronous with, the Civil War: "It feels a Shame, to be Alive" (Johnson 444) "When I was small, a woman died" (Johnson 596) "He fought like one Who've nought to lose" (Johnson 759) "They dropped like Flakes" (Johnson 409) "A toad, can die of light" (Johnson 583) More tomorrow!

Hi everyone! I'm quite sad we won't be in class today, your energy and commitment to Emily and to each other grounds me in ways that I can't fully put into words. I thought I'd share with you something that I started this week, but I think I will continue over time. I'm not an artist by any means, but this is a doodle of Frank Bidart on Zoom I'm in his poetry seminar this semester (I believe Justine is too!), and I think it's really interesting to see personalities through their Zoom profiles. I've also been struggling personally with focusing during this nebulous, digital time and taking the time to draw either images from the poems we're discussing, or the people sharing their thoughts, and this has helped to keep my feet on solid ground. A fun crossover, we read Adrienne Rich's Diving Into the Wreck  this week, and I mentioned Rich's article on Dickinson - really cool to see how things overlap!! Here is a link to the title poem from t...

Poem-A-Day/April 10 (Johnson 199) I'm "wife" — I've finished that — That other state — I'm Czar — I'm "Woman" now — It's safer so — How odd the Girl's life looks Behind this soft Eclipse — I think that Earth feels so To folks in Heaven — now — This being comfort — then That other kind — was pain — But why compare? I'm "Wife"! Stop there! ** I read this amazing poem almost as a dramatic monologue--i.e. a speech by an imputed "character" not revealed as such. Why? Because it speaks not of some spiritual occult equivalent of being a wife--some Emily Dickinson version of  a marriage, the role self-conferred--but of the actual dismal state Dickinson saw women choosing over the "odd" life of a "Girl"-- The speaker of the poem keeps repeating  the cultural scripts about "wife"-ness, but choking upon her words. "This being comfort--then" (according to logic) "Th...

Poem-A-Day/April 9 (Johnson 732) She rose to His Requirement — dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife — If ought She missed in Her new Day, Of Amplitude, or Awe — Or first Prospective — Or the Gold In using, wear away, It lay unmentioned — as the Sea Develop Pearl, and Weed, But only to Himself — be known The Fathoms they abide — ** An unusual poem! A little narrative in the past tense about a woman who "rose" to the "requirement" of being a wife--fish, by the way, "rise" to take the fisherman's bait--only to drown in her own "unmentioned" depths. What's tricky is the "himself" in stanza 3. That refers (I think) to the Sea, who nurtures life w/in his own depths akin to the psychic life underneath the apparently placid surface of the wife's acquiescence...