E.B. White said, "If you must be obscure, be obscure clearly!" I don't think Dickinson clearly obfuscates, in this effort. What she does, as always, is spit hate at life. Life has had the temerity — to Hurt — our delicacy — and we — shall lock up the house and never come out until it apologizes. I'll take Whitman any day, even if he's singing aloud about confused dogs staring at him and all the pretty shiny rocks he finds on his journey to the store to get a sandwich IN AMERICA!

Ian, if someone is forcing you to choose between Whitman and Dickinson, you should defy that oppressive figure and demand both. As some of the topics here demonstrate, there is lot more to Dickinson than the mere sensitive flinch you describe.

(Of course Whitman does things that she does not; and conversely, her writing about sex, despair, elations and defects, goes places that WW's does not. That's why you shld rebel against the idea that you need to reject either.)

I'm surprised to hear this poem characterized as "moping." Clearly the speaker isn't happy with her lot in life, yet the poem focuses on the ways she finds to continue living despite the pain. She insists, in fact, that "We cannot put Ourself away" (I would have characterized moping as a kind of "putting away" of the self) but that we must "do life's labor--/Though life's Reward--be done . . ."

Even though I wouldn't use the word "moping," the contrast with Whitman points to a tension I find quite interesting. On the one hand, the poem itself can be seen as a manifestation of the speaker's determination to "keep on keeping on." It is an act of communication, of exploration--an act which takes a great deal of self-discipline and energy. The poem reaches out to us, across the miles and years, and offers us something. Quite a lot of something--for many readers, at least.

On the other hand, Dickinson's poetry was largely a private thing in her life. She has become a poster child for the isolated writer working away in obscurity, turned inward, withdrawn from "Life" as Whitman would sing it (it's interesting that she doesn't capitalize either occurrence of "life's" in the last quatrain). This characterization isn't quite fair, of course, since she did share (and publish) some of her poems, but there's no doubt if we put her work side by side with Whitman's, hers would be on the introverted side and his on the extroverted.

Thematically, the speaker characterizes her daily activity as "stinging work--/To cover what we are . . ."--a far cry from Whitman's apparent exhibitionism. Yet she also expresses her belief that this is "For their--sake--not for Ours--." Again there is a tension between what is done for the self and what for others.

It seems to me, therefore, that the poem doesn't so much mope as actively wrestle with issues of the boundaries between self and other: how events "out there" impact our internal lives (in this case "Stopped--struck--my ticking--through" [the double syntactical role played by that "through" is wonderful]), and how our private acts impact others in the world--how doing "Life's little duties" can simultaneously protect others from the bombs in our bosoms and serve as the basis for a poem that offers us an inspiring exploration of a personal struggle.

In the end, this poem, for me, comes across as a curious mixture of Yankee stoicism--an effort "To hold our Senses--on" in the face of great personal pain--and Zen transcendence, in which the speaker "precisely," "With scrupulous exactness" performs the little actions of everyday life, all the while knowing they are an illusion. And I haven't even said anything about the delicate, precise syntactical convolutions in the middle of the poem . . . .

If this is moping, we could do with more of it.

John, I agree with much of what you say, but in the following excerpt from your post, could you please explain what you mean by the comment inside the brackets? Thanks in advance.

how events "out there" impact our internal lives (in this case "Stopped--struck--my ticking--through" [the double syntactical role played by that "through" is wonderful])

Mary Ann

Mary Ann,

I meant that "struck" could be read either as a transitive or an intransitive verb, which would mean that "through" either complements "struck"--as in "my ticking was struck through"--or it serves to complete an implicit predicate "is"--as in "having been struck, my ticking is through." "Through" makes this double reading possible, and the attendant uncertainty over how the verb is functioning, or what the verb really is, seems to me reflective of the general questioning in the poem regarding what our actions can or should be, and what effects they may produce.

Perhaps I'm magnifying a mole hill here. I'd be interested to know if this makes sense to you.

John

Thanks, John, it does make sense to me. As a retired high school English teacher (I didn't appreciate Dickinson until after I retired and had time to read more of her than the typical anthology poems), I seem to remember those olde tyme words, "transitive" and "intransitive" verbs. Is anyone still teaching that, I wonder?

Perhaps I'm magnifying a mole hill here

No Dickinsonian mole hill is so small that it can't be magnified to good effect. And yes, that's my final answer.

Mary Ann

.

No Dickinsonian mole hill is so small that it can't be magnified to good effect.

And yes, that's my final answer.

You should win a suitcase of cash for that line……………lol

Dickinson does not hate life. It provides her with too many opportunities to feel sorry for herself. And too many heroic responses to her pain, like rearranging the daffodils. Being the only one who understands her makes Dickinson happy because of her unexampled intellect.

But don't let desperation at Dickinson persuade you reading Whitman is acceptable. He drones in what he imagines is a wild shout and says nothing in many words to reassure himself. He and Dickinson are alike in being self-centered and drowned in self-sympathy. But if you must choose one, take Dickinson. The poems are shorter.

You're right:

No Dickinsonian mole hill is so small that it can't be magnified to good effect.

... is a great line. But perhaps a modification?:

No Dickinsonian mole hill is so small that it can't be magnified to splendor.

That would be consistent with the spirit of the poems' author, no?!

Sorry, Maryanne. The comments are not intended to give offense and I hope have not done so.

Yes, this is an amazing moment in the poem!! I was struck by the same thing and am so glad that John pointed it out and that MaryAnn focused in on it. I love the thin-edge accuracy (I might say tidiness but, especially in the context of this thread, I'm particularly wary to avoid any word that might rev up gender-associated cliches re Dickinson) of the way the syntax cuts both ways here. The way I read it, not only can "struck" be either transitive or intransitive, but if it is transitive, then the ticking is what is struck through, and if it is intransitive, with the speaker as object, then "my ticking through" is an appositive for "struck" -- the speaker is struck and her ticking is also through. And in that case, "through" has a different meaning as well: it means physically pierced if struck is transitive, and temporally over if struck is intransitive. This is really remarkable: THREE different words in the poem, "struck," "ticking," and "through," do grammatical double-duty, and in each case they fit together seamlessly. It's like the Escher painting of the faces and the chalice, a paradox so exactly executed.

"Whitman and Dickinson are alike in being self-centered and drowned in self-sympathy. But if you must choose one, take Dickinson. The poems are shorter."

Aptly put, alas! Seems to go with at least some part of the lyric poet's territory . . .