My American literature class, the one I teach, not a class I’m taking, although I do read and discuss along with my students, anyway, my American literature class is reading the poetry of Emily Dickinson this week. Do you have a favorite poem by Miss Dickinson, and can you leave some comments on why you like it?
Impossible to choose ONE, but among my favorites is:
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!
How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
Always strikes me as quintessential ED–concise, clever, sing-song-y, and an entirely original subject.
“I never saw a moor” is my favorite. It illustrates faith and how reasonable it is to believe in something without seeing it. I had to memorize some poetry in 9th grade and I chose this one, “I’m nobody,” and Shakespeare’s “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”. BTW, did you know that in some psych circles reading a lot of E.D. is supposed to be a sign of depression. I think that’s asinine but I do admit reading E.D. when depressed is, um, depressing.
My vote goes to:
HOPE is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I ’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
I love it when Emily hits the tree:
We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When Light is put away —
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye —
A Moment — We uncertain step
For newness of the night —
Then — fit out Vision to the Dark —
And meet the Road — erect —
And so of larger — Darkness —
Those Evenings of the Brain —
When not a Moon disclose a sign —
Or Star — come out — within —
The Bravest — grope a little —
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead —
But as they learn to see —
Either the Darkness alters —
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight —
And Life steps almost straight.
For every moment when we think we know what we’re doing, and then are reminded, painfully, we can’t know it all, but step into the world anyhow…this is the poem I like.
Here’s my favorite, so far:
Here’s my favorite:
He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!
The morns are meeker than they were—
The nuts are getting brown—
The berry’s cheek is plumper—
The Rose is out of town.
The Maple wears a gayer scarf—
The field a scarlet gown—
Lest I should be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.
That’s my favorite simply because I love all things autumn.
THE PROPS assist the house
Until the house is built,
And then the props withdraw—
And adequate, erect,
The house supports itself;
Ceasing to recollect
The auger and the carpenter.
Just such a retrospect
Hath the perfected life,
A past of plank and nail,
And slowness,—then the scaffolds drop—
Affirming it a soul.
This one encourages me so much! I am in process. The scaffolding of “whether I feel like it or not” Bible study, prayer, giving, and service–to my church, my family and others–are erecting something much stronger in my soul!
The bustle in a house
The Morning after Death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon Earth–
The Sweeping up the Heart
The putting Love away
We shall not want to use again
Until Eternity.
Maybe my poem should read “The Morning after Divorce”, but it felt the same. After my husband left, I was stuck with the task of separating our possessions into His and Hers and boxing up his things. I packed away my whole married life, and somehow in the process I reconciled some of the horrible pain and guilt. Suddenly, the poem I’d barely thought about since I’d read it in high school made perfect sense. Emily spoke for me.
Impossible to choose ONE, but among my favorites is:
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!
How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
Always strikes me as quintessential ED–concise, clever, sing-song-y, and an entirely original subject.
“I never saw a moor” is my favorite. It illustrates faith and how reasonable it is to believe in something without seeing it. I had to memorize some poetry in 9th grade and I chose this one, “I’m nobody,” and Shakespeare’s “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”. BTW, did you know that in some psych circles reading a lot of E.D. is supposed to be a sign of depression. I think that’s asinine but I do admit reading E.D. when depressed is, um, depressing.
My vote goes to:
HOPE is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I ’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
I love it when Emily hits the tree:
We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When Light is put away —
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye —
A Moment — We uncertain step
For newness of the night —
Then — fit out Vision to the Dark —
And meet the Road — erect —
And so of larger — Darkness —
Those Evenings of the Brain —
When not a Moon disclose a sign —
Or Star — come out — within —
The Bravest — grope a little —
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead —
But as they learn to see —
Either the Darkness alters —
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight —
And Life steps almost straight.
For every moment when we think we know what we’re doing, and then are reminded, painfully, we can’t know it all, but step into the world anyhow…this is the poem I like.
Here’s my favorite, so far:
Here’s my favorite:
He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!
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I’m Nobody! Who are you? is my choice as well.
The morns are meeker than they were—
The nuts are getting brown—
The berry’s cheek is plumper—
The Rose is out of town.
The Maple wears a gayer scarf—
The field a scarlet gown—
Lest I should be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.
That’s my favorite simply because I love all things autumn.
THE PROPS assist the house
Until the house is built,
And then the props withdraw—
And adequate, erect,
The house supports itself;
Ceasing to recollect
The auger and the carpenter.
Just such a retrospect
Hath the perfected life,
A past of plank and nail,
And slowness,—then the scaffolds drop—
Affirming it a soul.
This one encourages me so much! I am in process. The scaffolding of “whether I feel like it or not” Bible study, prayer, giving, and service–to my church, my family and others–are erecting something much stronger in my soul!
The bustle in a house
The Morning after Death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon Earth–
The Sweeping up the Heart
The putting Love away
We shall not want to use again
Until Eternity.
Maybe my poem should read “The Morning after Divorce”, but it felt the same. After my husband left, I was stuck with the task of separating our possessions into His and Hers and boxing up his things. I packed away my whole married life, and somehow in the process I reconciled some of the horrible pain and guilt. Suddenly, the poem I’d barely thought about since I’d read it in high school made perfect sense. Emily spoke for me.