When I was reading through the cluster for tomorrow, again there were a lot of poems about death, and I have fallen victim to reading a ton of her poems as a commentary on death until proven otherwise. But I did find it interesting particularly how different poems seem to have completely different views/takes on what death means at that particular time.
For example in Poem 479, “Because I could not stop for Death-”, I read it as her personifying death, in a Whitman type fashion, and slowly embarking on a journey to the end. Repeating the phrase “We passed”, making it feel as though she is on a slow journey with death. The poem feels not “dragged” but definitely not rushed, as she lays out the journey. This is what felt Whitman-ish to me. Words like “kindly stopped”, “slowly”, “leisure”, “paused”, paints the mood of her depiction of death as comfortable, rather than sudden and wrenching, less doom and more tranquil. Near the end she says that it has since been centuries, that it feels shorter than the day, because of the length of eternity. This to me feels like she brilliantly manipulates the readers’ perception of time in relation to death. A peacefully slow, yet somehow fleeting journey of life.
Yet starkly different is Poem 487 that I read as referring to death as well. The first word “Presentiment” primes my read of the poem as more “doom and despair -ish” at the outset. But “long shadow”, “startled grass”, indicates the suddenness of death in this poem. The sun going down, (a sun that is frequently equated in her poems as hope and happiness), removes any joy that can be taken from this poem, and makes the heavy feeling even heavier.
I also noted the length of each poem and the extent to which she elaborates on death. In the first, she walks readers through the journey in its full length and gives readers hope of a peaceful eternity when she describes that is the way the horses draw the carriage face. But the ominous poem is short and lacks elaboration. It makes the reader draw the meaning, and at least it made it even more ominous and sudden, it felt short and choppy. It was fascinating to me that Dickinson could write two such drastically different poems on death and communicate two widely different feelings. I wonder what was going through her head at each poem’s time.
This is my April 2 work.