Emily Dickinson's Words

Gossamer, Sirocco, Vesuvian, and Eddy

Who is the greatest American poet? Step back, Robert Frost, Langston Hughes, and William Carlos Williams. Put your boots back on, Walt Whitman. Stay in your insurance office, Wallace Stevens. Emily Dickinson takes the prize.

Okay—all these poets are geniuses. If you want an introduction to them and their most notable work, the anthology SIX AMERICAN POETS is a great place to start. But today on Words of Wonder, our focus is all on Emily.

Gossamer

According to Merriam-Webster, gossamer originates from “goose summer”: “a period of mild weather in late autumn or early winter.” This was the time when goose was best for eating and when delicate, silky cobwebs would float through the calm air. The cobwebs resembled goose down, which gives the word another layer of meaning.

Because I could not stop for Death – (479)
by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

Sirocco

In our modern world death is often hidden behind hospital doors. In Emily Dickinson’s time, death was impossible to ignore. Her poems often seem death-obsessed, which was typical of the Victorian era, where a “good death” was romanticized and close proximity to the dying was encouraged. I just might buy this Emily Dickinson t-shirt that says “GOTH” to wear to my school author visits.

It was not Death, for I stood up, (355)
by Emily Dickinson

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.

Vesuvian

Mount Vesuvius is an active volcano in Italy which destroyed the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum in an eruption in 79 AD. Vesuvian is not to be confused with Venusian: a hypothetical inhabitant of the planet Venus. Venusians are a better subject for those other great American lyricists: The B-52s.

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun (764)
by Emily Dickinson

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun –
In Corners – till a Day
The Owner passed – identified –
And carried Me away –

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods –
And now We hunt the Doe –
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply –

And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow –
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let it’s pleasure through –

And when at Night – Our good Day done –
I guard My Master’s Head –
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow – to have shared –

To foe of His – I’m deadly foe –
None stir the second time –
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –
Or an emphatic Thumb –

Though I than He – may longer live
He longer must – than I –
For I have but the power to kill,
Without – the power to die –

Eddy

Oak leaves collect in the gap between my house and the neighbor’s garage. There’s no sense in raking them until spring: the moment I collect a few bags of leaves, another batch falls to take its place.

A gust of autumn wind comes. It spins the leaves in dramatic eddies. I watch them from the couch, happy to have neglected my raking once again.

The name – of it –is “Autumn” (656) 
by Emily Dickinson

The name – of it – is "Autumn"–
The hue – of it – is Blood –
An Artery – upon the Hill –
A Vein – along the Road –

Great Globules–in the Alleys–
And Oh, the Shower of Stain–
When Winds – upset the Basin –
And spill the Scarlet Rain –

It sprinkles Bonnets – far below –
It gathers ruddy Pools –
Then – eddies like a Rose – away –
Upon Vermilion Wheels –

Next week on Words of Wonder: Emily Dickinson’s Words, Part II.

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I’ve been celebrating National Poetry Month and the release of POETRY COMICS with a full schedule of school visits. Yesterday I read my picture book NOTHING EVER HAPPENS ON A GRAY DAY and created comics inspired by POETRY COMICS with elementary students in Benton, Kansas.

If you’re interested in hosting an event for your students to learn about poetry and create their own poetry comics, please contact Authors Out Loud. If you are in Wichita, Kansas or nearby you can email me directly. I’d love to talk poetry and comics at your school!