Poems of Emily Dickinson, series 1 | Page 4

a line or two at a time, and making the reader regret its sudden cessation. But the main quality of these poems is that of extraordinary grasp and insight, uttered with an uneven vigor sometimes exasperating, seemingly wayward, but really unsought and inevitable. After all, when a thought takes one's breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence. As Ruskin wrote in his earlier and better days, "No weight nor mass nor beauty of execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought."
---Thomas Wentworth Higginson
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
As is well documented, Emily Dickinson's poems were edited in these early editions by her friends, better to fit the conventions of the times. In particular, her dashes, often small enough to appear as dots, became commas and semi-colons.
In the second series of poems published, a facsimile of her handwritten poem which her editors titled "Renunciation" is given, and I here transcribe that manuscript as faithfully as I can, showing underlined words thus.
There came a day - at Summer's full -?Entirely for me -?I thought that such were for the Saints -?Where Resurrections - be -
The sun - as common - went abroad -?The flowers - accustomed - blew,?As if no soul - that solstice passed -?Which maketh all things - new -
The time was scarce profaned - by speech -?The falling of a word?Was needless - as at Sacrament -?The Wardrobe - of our Lord!
Each was to each - the sealed church -?Permitted to commune - this time -?Lest we too awkward show?At Supper of "the Lamb."
The hours slid fast - as hours will -?Clutched tight - by greedy hands -?So - faces on two Decks look back -?Bound to opposing lands.
And so, when all the time had leaked,?Without external sound,?Each bound the other's Crucifix -?We gave no other bond -
Sufficient troth - that we shall rise,?Deposed - at length the Grave -?To that new marriage -?Justified - through Calvaries - of Love!
From the handwriting, it is not always clear which are dashes, which are commas and which are periods, nor it is entirely?clear which initial letters are capitalized.
However, this transcription may be compared with the edited version in the main text to get a flavor of the changes made in these early editions.
---JT
This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me, --?The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;?For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!
I.
LIFE.
I.
SUCCESS.
[Published in "A Masque of Poets"?at the request of "H.H.," the author's?fellow-townswoman and friend.]
Success is counted sweetest?By those who ne'er succeed.?To comprehend a nectar?Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host?Who took the flag to-day?Can tell the definition,?So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,?On whose forbidden ear?The distant strains of triumph?Break, agonized and clear!
II.
Our share of night to bear,?Our share of morning,?Our blank in bliss to fill,?Our blank in scorning.
Here a star, and there a star,?Some lose their way.?Here a mist, and there a mist,?Afterwards -- day!
III.
ROUGE ET NOIR.
Soul, wilt thou toss again??By just such a hazard?Hundreds have lost, indeed,?But tens have won an all.
Angels' breathless ballot?Lingers to record thee;?Imps in eager caucus?Raffle for my soul.
IV.
ROUGE GAGNE.
'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy!?If I should fail, what poverty!?And yet, as poor as I?Have ventured all upon a throw;?Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so?This side the victory!
Life is but life, and death but death!?Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!?And if, indeed, I fail,?At least to know the worst is sweet.?Defeat means nothing but defeat,?No drearier can prevail!
And if I gain, -- oh, gun at sea,?Oh, bells that in the steeples be,?At first repeat it slow!?For heaven is a different thing?Conjectured, and waked sudden in,?And might o'erwhelm me so!
V.
Glee! The great storm is over!?Four have recovered the land;?Forty gone down together?Into the boiling sand.
Ring, for the scant salvation!?Toll, for the bonnie souls, --?Neighbor and friend and bridegroom,?Spinning upon the shoals!
How they will tell the shipwreck?When winter shakes the door,?Till the children ask, "But the forty??Did they come back no more?"
Then a silence suffuses the story,?And a softness the teller's eye;?And the children no further question,?And only the waves reply.
VI.
If I can stop one heart from breaking,?I shall not live in vain;?If I can ease one life the aching,?Or cool one pain,?Or help one fainting robin?Unto his nest again,?I shall not live in vain.
VII.
ALMOST!
Within my reach!?I could have touched!?I might have chanced that way!?Soft sauntered through the village,?Sauntered as soft away!?So unsuspected violets?Within the fields lie low,?Too late for striving fingers?That passed, an hour ago.
VIII.
A wounded deer leaps highest,?I've heard the hunter tell;?'T is but the ecstasy of death,?And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,?The trampled steel that springs;?A cheek is always redder?Just where the hectic stings!
Mirth is the mail of anguish,?In which it cautions arm,?Lest anybody spy the blood?And "You're hurt"