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.
I connect with the poem’s conflicted message about spring. An emerging sense of movement and activity from the world (birds chirping, bees ‘bee-ing’) can make a natural homebody feel obligated to participate, or feel guilty for staying home. Lines like “if only I could live till that first shout” and “I wished the grass would hurry” remind readers that spring is a season of change and forming habits around socializing. For someone like Dickinson, not being in the community would be more common in the winter, when travel is more challenging and less comfortable. But come spring, her absence is more stark and slightly political. This would make the warmer climate frustrating, if also beautiful.
ReplyDeleteIn pre-school, one of my teachers taught me that whenever I saw a robin, I should lick my thumb, stamp it on my palm, and make a fist on top for good luck. Over the past ~16 years, that's just been second nature. (I've never met anyone else who's heard of doing this, so if you have, please tell me! Maybe Mrs. Mary was just indoctrinating me into some weird robin-worshipping cult.) These days, suddenly licking my germy thumb would be particularly frowned upon, so my mindless gesture has finally been interrupted. Still, I can't help but keep any eye out for robins, so this Dickinson poem had my attention right away.
ReplyDeleteIn "I dreaded that first Robin, so," the dissonance Dickinson captures is devastating, and of course poignant in the very strange spring we now face. Robins hop across my path when I go on walks, I can see pink flowers through my window as I sit at my desk, but these symbols of spring just don't match the grayness that a lot of us feel right now. More broadly, this poem speaks to a feeling that can occur anytime of year, the feeling that your surroundings just don't reflect what's going on inside—or rather, the feeling of guilt in knowing you yourself are not projecting back the positivity that your surroundings present. Dickinson's description of herself as "The Queen of Calvary" is absolutely wrenching. Here, she is forsaken by a spring that brightens and blooms without her.
Each of the poems we've read this week have felt topical, but this to me feels the most visceral, and I expect it will stick with me for a good while to come. When I see a robin, now I will think of Dickinson instead of licking my thumb (sorry, Mrs. Mary).
Happy Thursday, everyone!
ReplyDeleteI found this poem to be another interesting rumination on the seasons by Dickinson. Spring, so often associated with renewal, restoration, and an escape of the winter’s characteristic dread instead encompasses immense discontentment for Dickinson. It is probably safe to assume that someone who limited their social interactions, and preferred to keep unconventional hours, did not buy into the clichéd notion that all of our burdens are alleviated once winter ends. In fact, with the current weather, I would say that we have barely left winter! Perhaps Dickinson has internalized that the coming of spring according to the calendar does not entail that New England weather will follow suit. When she states: "I dreaded that first Robin, so," she underscores her aversion to the coming of spring. A traditional and endeared symbol of spring, the robin is meant to be accompanied by warmer weather and the budding of flowers. However, Dickinson declares that she "dared not meet the Daffodils." The gaudy, yellow appearance of the daffodils was likely off-putting to someone so reticent; the manner in which they looked was "So foreign..." to the poet. However, her own yearning for the coming of spring, or rather, its genuine arrival is clear in the next stanza. She expresses that she "wished the Grass would hurry." I found the sentiment that she longed for the grass to" stretch -- to look..." at herself intriguing. I read this line to be suppressed desire for attention following the intense labor likely associated with preparing for the holidays and sustaining a family in prominent society during the dead of winter. I found that the following stanza, in which she states: "I could not bear the Bees should come" to be again symbolic of her resistance toward the typical path established for women. She does not succumb to the societal pressure of childbearing, or symbolically, pollination. In the last stanza, her claiming of the label "The Queen of Calvary" is ironic, as rather than control the natural world, she is entirely powerless to its whims.
See you tomorrow morning on Zoom! :)
I was really intrigued by how she’s melded musical instruments with the passage of time. When I think of drums, I imagine a steady beat in the background, whereas pianos have melodies that are variable and (when I’m guessing rock bands were not a thing) — more enjoyable. I can imagine her listening to the songs of birds — “pianos in the woods” — and thinking that they’re only part of a cycle of spring-not-spring that continues like a beating drum that’s unfailing or “unthinking.” The predictability of everything, even the obvious joys that spring brings, seems painful. What I was wondering was: does dickinson want time to go faster to get out of this cycle, or does she just want a break from the monotony?
ReplyDeleteI 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 —
^Here, I’d initially thought she was taller than the grass and the blades were bending back to look up at her, now I wonder, if because they’re so tall, they’re bending down to look at her.
Ps. for some reason I kept reading “fashion” as “passion” — and it may have contributed to how I read the poem.
from Natalie G (with apologies for persistent Blogger issues!):
ReplyDeleteEmily captures the personality of springtime renewal so well in this poem. I’ve always loved the spring because it felt so tailored to me, as if each new spot of color were an earthen message designed just for me. Dickinson captures this same seasonal specialness, repeatedly calling attention back to herself at the end of practically every stanza (“power to mangle me” — “could stretch — to look at me —“ — “What word had they, for me?” — “In gentle deference to me”), even as she dispels the air of celebration surrounding the spring.