Some questions about poem #214 & #280

Please provide me with the answers asap :)

Poem #214 "I taste a liquor..."
1- The liquor that Dickinson tastes is not "brewed" [1] . Why not?
2- What does she mean bye "Inebriate of Air" [5] ?
3- How does the word "Landlords" [9] refer back to the previous stanza?
4- In stanza 3, Dickinson contrasts herself to the bees and butterflies. Can you explain how?

Poem #280 "I felt a Funeral..."
1- In stanza 2, what is the "service" [6] ?
2- What does "Then Space" [12] probably refer to?
3- In what way is the speaker "wrecked" [16] in stanza 4?
4- "And Being, but an Ear" [14]. What does Dickinson mean, in your opinion?
5- Dickinson says she "hit a World, at every plunge" [19]. Can you suggest what she may mean?


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please guys, its for my project :\

Welcome to the forum, luis_naqi, glad to help; I have always loved Emily Dickinson. FYI, as 214 does not seem quite as common as 280, it does not hurt to post the poem to help analysis. ;)

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214

I taste a liquor never brewed -
From Tankards scooped in Pearl -
Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!

Inebriate of Air - am I -
And Debauchee of Dew -
Reeling - thro endless summer days -
From inns of Molten Blue -

When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door -
When Butterflies - renounce their "drams" -
I shall but drink more!

Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats -
And Saints - to windows run -
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the - Sun -

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I feel surprised (in a good way) to hear that you have a project on poem 214, as it seems a lesser-quoted poem of hers, but a prime example of her unique language use, her odd use of dashes, her perfect line breaks, and according-to-the-eye random capitalizations. Just out of curiosity, what kind of class do you take currently?
The basis of this poem reads relatively simply, once you get behind the cryptic-like language and mysterious punctuation; Dickinson made quite the art out of letters in themselves. In this poem, unlike what others say, she does not make liquor into a summer day, nor make an analogy into it, but, just as the ancient Greeks did, she creates somewhat of a libation out of this unnamed liquor to summer; this seems especially apparent in the third stanza. In the first stanza, Dickinson does almost speak of some fictional drink that has a somewhat transcendental quality, something that "Not all the Vats upon the Rhine / Yield," but that this liquor tasted "never brewed" indicates something immaterial, and more an object similar to libations than a simply analogy. She creates this immeasurably pleasurable liquor in devotion to a season that the poet treasured most, summer, a time when she loved attending to her gardens, before she ended up as somewhat of a shut-in, later in life; in this case, we see common symbols of summer (Bees, Butterflies), and how she shall indulge herself more in their presence with this imaginary liquor.
The final stanza indicates the end of her pleasure, when winter approaches (when "Seraphs swing their snowy Hats"); that the beginning of this stanza begins with "Till" shows that the third stanza never ended, despite ending with an exclamation mark (a sometimes common attribute of the day, and also of Dickinson's poetry), hence claiming that she shall please herself with her love of summer, until the winter comes.
As to your specific questions:

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

1- The liquor that Dickinson tastes is not "brewed" [1] . Why not?

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Dickinson wrote in an era where transcendentalism began showing itself to all of literature and philosophy. Of course, she published some two poems during her lifetime, so it seems difficult to say that she contributed to the thought, but with the literary mindset of that time, that the liquor "never brewed" has a hint of transcendentalism in it, I think, worth considering. It indicates that the liquor seems more an object of the imagination, than material.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

2- What does she mean bye "Inebriate of Air" [5] ?

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As a reader can see in almost all of her poetry, she has the tendency of very strange word usage, but likely with much intention; the dashes do not help. I would like to interpret this as, by subtracting the dashes, "Inebriate of Air am I / And Debauchee of Dew," hence stating something along the lines of her getting intoxicated off of (or with) the air of summertime.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

3- How does the word "Landlords" [9] refer back to the previous stanza?

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It does not, and this one example can make Dickinson's poetry all the more confusing and cryptic, as sometimes the stanzas lead into each other, a continuation of a sentence, and others, like this one, indicated only by dashes, do not; stanzas 3 and 4 continue into each other, despite an exclamation mark sitting at the end of the third stanza - stanzas 2 ought to end with a period or exclamation mark, marking it as the end of the sentence, but I would never attempt to correct Dickinson in her own poetry.
Regardless, the "landlords" refers to the actual inhabitants of the foxglove plant (digitalis, in medicine, for future trivia ;)); bees, as we learn in basic biology, whir from plant to plant, flower to flower, collecting all the plants' treasures, functioning sometimes as thieves. The "landlords" of the foxglove, in this case, turn the "drunken Bee" away from borrowing or looting its treasures.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

4- In stanza 3, Dickinson contrasts herself to the bees and butterflies. Can you explain how?

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Again, I would not fully connect the second and third stanza, as stanza 2 seems to focus so much more upon the poet, and stanza 3 on the ingredients of summertime, which she, basically, drinks libations to - the "Bees" and "Butterflies;" the only time she contrasts herself to these elements of summer rests in the final line of the third stanza by raising her imaginary glass of liquor to them.


Whew! I hope I helped some, luis naqi. I will return to answer your questions on 280, but, as much as I love Emily Dickinson, my brain needs a bit of a break, after dissecting a poem by her. :D

wow ! your answers really helped me, i've been looking and looking but nothing came out !

im new in the field of literature, we are studying about Dickinson's poems these past 2 weeks and they are really interesting and full of hints.

Thanks again for your help and take your time mate :)

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well, im studying american literature.. and we just entered Emily's poems section in the anthology. :)

Glad to help, luis naqi. I love reading and analyzing Dickinson's poetry, so it appears somewhat of a win-win situation, plus it gives me a chance to recall and review much of her inspiring brilliance.

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280

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum -
Kept beating - beating - till I thought
My Mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down -
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing - then -

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Undoubtedly, this seems one of Dickinson's most popular poems, but it reads with no more simplicity than most of her poetry; even upon first glance, we see many seemingly unneeded dashes, commas, capitalizations, and unique word usages. Many believe that she composed this specific poem around the time of her mental breakdown and eventual strict seclusion; the tones of it, including simply the first line, has a haunting mood to it that likely contributed to its popularity early on, but, honestly, every time I read it, I discover something new in its cryptic darkness.
I would think it safe to say that the term "funeral" shows more to describe some sort of loss, depression, and eventual yearning than an actual death, as if holding a vigil for an intimate memory, rather than a dead one, though it indeed contains many allusions of an actual funeral; I feel that these objects only serve to support her metaphor, rather than represent a real funeral.
In the first stanza, I think Dickinson chose the word "treading" by the mourners for a specific reason, as this poem seems greatly reflective of her emotional nature and introversion. I cannot say that she necessarily had a fear of people or interaction, but she clearly suffered from agoraphobia, hence the presence of others almost literally "tread" upon her and nearly contributed to this "funeral."
The second and third stanzas, I believe, encorporate both her body and psyche into the poem, clearly mentioning her "numbing" mind, but the service that seems to "beat like a drum," I think, may refer to the fast, hard beatings of an anxious heart, or one under distress, to the limit of bluntly hearing it in one's head (or "brain"). The "Boots of Lead" indicate a heaviness and weighing down, possibly alluding back to the mourners' "treading."
Much how almost every one of Dickinson's poems (equally so in "Because I Could Not Stop for Death") maintains a consciousness beyond human understanding and reason, from the end of the third stanza to the end of the poem, she describes a descent and slow fading, in essence a suffering, into loneliness, despair, coldness, and lack of control; suddenly, she loses all reason ("a Plank in Reason, broke"), comes to perceive nothing ("Being, but an ear"), even deprived by where those celebrated in a funeral they thought to go ("all the Heavens were a Bell . . . and I, and Silence . . . Wrecked, Solitary"), and ends in an abyss of unknowing ("I dropped down . . . at every plunge, / And Finished knowing").
I think it important to place emphasis upon the poem ending mid-sentence, and it takes somewhat of an existential turn, as she remarks that she quietly, alone, wrecked "Finished knowing," because what lies outside knowing? She has lost perception, her ears having gone away from the bells of the transcendent, lost reason, lost knowing, and falls alone - hence, what comes next? Dickinson admits she does not know; if she does, she does not reduce "it" to the prisons of the human vocabulary.
Now to your specific questions:

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

1- In stanza 2, what is the "service" [6] ?

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We commonly refer to parts of a funeral as a type of service, such as the eulogy, for example.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

2- What does "Then Space" [12] probably refer to?

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"Then Space" does not make a lot of sense in itself, I agree, but, just like in the previous poem I analyzed, do not get too distracted by all of those seemingly unnecessary dashes and commas. If you subtract that dash after the fragment, then you get "Then Space began to toll," indicating an absence, a loneliness, perhaps even a confinement.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

3- In what way is the speaker "wrecked" [16] in stanza 4?

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I feel unsure how she should not feel wrecked, as even from the beginning the "mourners" of the funeral she intrinsically feels "tread" upon her; the entire poem seems a slow, continuous, painful wrecking upon the speaker - not only a suffering inflicted by her surroundings, but a later subjection to herself, then getting cast into a beyond-our-vocabulary void.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

4- "And Being, but an Ear" [14]. What does Dickinson mean, in your opinion?

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The whole poem details certain sounds, such as the service beating like a drum, the creaking of the lifted box, the subsequent cold silence, so I believe the ear ought to represent consciousness. The idea that Dickinson portrays something as transcendental as most consider the theoretical heaven as something able to perceive, reducing it to a bell, interests me particularly. Again, the poem takes a very existential stance from this point; we should respect all opinions and interpretations of art as subjectively determined, but this poem goes so far as to delve into faith and philosophy. Regardless, in the end, she loses all sense and ability of perception ("And I, and Silence . . . here"), distant even from the "Bell" of the heavens, into nothingness.

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Originally Posted by luis naqi

5- Dickinson says she "hit a World, at every plunge" [19]. Can you suggest what she may mean?

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I have stumbled on this line a lot, too. She obviously describes a descent into nothingness, but if she suggests, in her fall, hitting more than one "World," each one individually in her plunge, I would wonder if this suggests something along the lines of astronomy, such as falling out even of things beyond our planet, things outside of our reach, because there seem few things in the unknown more than outer space, particularly in Dickinson's era of composing this poem. If she suggests hitting only one "World," as a singular thing, then it seems easier to say that she has fallen far from what we all know, recognize, and identify as our population, homes, business, and such society-based objects and ideas.

Anyway, I hope I helped. I do not offer my interpretations as the one and only correct interpretations, as I consider myself no expert - I just happened to have a very passionate adoration of Emily Dickinson and her poetry. Let me know if you have any more questions. Take care. :)

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Originally Posted by luis_naqi

5- Dickinson says she "hit a World, at every plunge" [19]. Can you suggest what she may mean?

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The poet identifies and empathises with the corpse lying in the coffin, being lowered into the grave: plunging and colliding more than once with solid earth ('a World'). In the finality of death our 'Plank in Reason' disintegrates and our 'knowing' finishes.

And finally, ' - then - '. But what can we, travelling the same route a little behind the corpse, say of this abyss and its inscrutable aftermath?

You did a great job "mono" !

I'm a little bit embarrassed.

Thanks for helping me again :)

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Originally Posted by Gladys

Quote:

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Originally Posted by luis_naqi

5- Dickinson says she "hit a World, at every plunge" [19]. Can you suggest what she may mean?

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The poet identifies and empathises with the corpse lying in the coffin, being lowered into the grave: plunging and colliding more than once with solid earth ('a World'). In the finality of death our 'Plank in Reason' disintegrates and our 'knowing' finishes.

And finally, ' - then - '. But what can we, travelling the same route a little behind the corpse, say of this abyss and its inscrutable aftermath?

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Interesting interpretation, Gladys. I suppose I took somewhat of a more internal perspective, as if Dickinson, "feeling a funeral in her brain," internalized the entire funeral, but I can certainly see your perspective, too, as if she eventually projected everything out for a visual for that final stanza, before the senses failed ("then -") - perhaps, yes, it seemed due to the submerging into the earth. I guess it proves the multiple interpretations of the same text. :nod:

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Originally Posted by mono

I suppose I took somewhat of a more internal perspective, as if Dickinson, "feeling a funeral in her brain," internalized the entire funeral, but I can certainly see your perspective, too, as if she eventually projected everything out for a visual for that final stanza

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So did I, Mono, though I'm far from certain I understand what you mean by 'projected everything out for a visual'.

In the last stanza, the poet imagines herself involuntarily translated from observer to subject, from passionate eye-witness to death's unwilling victim. The poet's visual imagery emanates from this grim conception.

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Originally Posted by Gladys

So did I, Mono, though I'm far from certain I understand what you mean by 'projected everything out for a visual'.

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Yes, sorry, I phrased that a bit strangely. By saying that Dickinson "identifies and empathises," as you said a few posts ago, I called that "projecting everything out for a visual" by meaning to say that the poet does indeed identify and empathize with the deceased something, which remains unnamed, but only because it exists inside of her, inside of her brain. By "identifying and empathizing" with a corpse inside of a coffin implies witnessing something outside one's self, and I agree with your interpretation of the final stanza, but I suppose my interpretation took the stance of maintaining the funeral within the brain; your interpretation of the final stanza seems a lot more clear than mine, as I have tossed around a few ideas nearly every time I read it, but Dickinson does not read with the greatest ease, most definitely. :nod:

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Originally Posted by Gladys

In the last stanza, the poet imagines herself involuntarily translated from observer to subject, from passionate eye-witness to death's unwilling victim. The poet's visual imagery emanates from this grim conception.

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Though it sounds a little cliché, I believe she goes, quite literally, beyond death, and admits her skepticism of what philosophically and existentially comes after death. As she wanders far from heaven ("As all the Heavens were a Bell / And Being, but an Ear / And I, and Silence . . . / Wrecked, solitary, here"), perhaps she describes the theorized "nothingness" and "infinite death" of hell? Difficult to say, as this interpretation could easily stray into much longer conversations regarding the existence of heaven, hell, maybe purgatory, the non-existence of nothingness (detailed in Sartre's Being and Nothingness); in this aspect, understanding Dickinson, as it seems with most poetry, depends more upon the interpreter than the interpreted. Though Dickinson posted scant poetry in her lifetime, I believe she may have contributed a bit to and existed as a sliver in the transcendentalist movement of her time (mid 19th-century) and land (New England), yet I realize this seems a bit of a far stretch to claim as truth, considering I can think of no connections she had with Emerson, Thoreau, Fuller, Channing, or even with anyone other than her family, especially after her "shut-in" years.
Going to heaven, I think, in Dickinson's interpretation in this specific poem, implies some sort of acceptance, deliverance, etc., etc., popularized in the religions of her day, as well as those existing today, too; again, I do not want to delve too far into such subjects as religion and spirituality, thus biting off more than I can chew. :D Instead of acceptance, I believe Dickinson wanted to place the utmost emphasis upon her involuntary solitude, something beyond death, beyond the scope of this "funeral in her brain," even beyond words, hence the significance of the ending of the poem ("- then -").

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Originally Posted by mono

By "identifying and empathizing" with a corpse inside of a coffin implies witnessing something outside one's self, and I agree with your interpretation of the final stanza, but I suppose my interpretation took the stance of maintaining the funeral within the brain.

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I'm now more confused - are we on the same track? English becomes so tricky in dealing with the meditation of one's death. I believe, Mono, that the poet is saying:

1. I am imagining with dread a funeral, 'in my Brain', in my innermost psyche.
   
   
2. As a passionate observer at this imagined funeral, I hear 'them lift a Box', the coffin.
   
   
3. I am becoming rather more than an observer as pall bearers 'creak across my Soul'.
   
   
4. The infinite 'Silence' of death is enveloping me 'Wrecked, solitary, here' on this planet. Death is an impending and inevitable reality for the poet - 'if it be not now, yet it will come'.
   
   
5. With my 'Reason' unable to sustain me longer, unable to isolate me from my imagined funeral and unable to support life, I fall with the coffin jerking down into the open grave.
   
   
6. But my downward death 'plunge' plumbs an infinity, if only for an instant.
   
   
7. Tragically, in death I have now 'Finished knowing', and so have no answer to the implied question '- then -'.
   
   
8. Or rather, my wistful '- then -' is met with everlasting silence.

While Dickinson may 'not read with the greatest ease', she's a wonderful poet.

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Originally Posted by Gladys

I'm now more confused - are we on the same track? English becomes so tricky in dealing with the meditation of one's death. I believe, Mono, that the poet is saying:

1. I am imagining with dread a funeral, 'in my Brain', in my innermost psyche.
   
   
2. As an passionate observer at this imagined funeral, I hear 'them lift a Box', the coffin.
   
   
3. I am becoming rather more than an observer as pall bearers 'creak across my Soul'.
   
   
4. The infinite 'Silence' of death is enveloping me 'Wrecked, solitary, here' on this planet. Death is an impending and inevitable reality for the poet - 'if it be not now, yet it will come'.
   
   
5. With my 'Reason' unable to sustain me longer, unable to isolate me from my imagined funeral and unable to support life, I fall with the coffin jerking down into the open grave.
   
   
6. But my downward death 'plunge' plumbs an infinity, if only for an instant.
   
   
7. Tragically, in death I have now 'Finished knowing', and so have no answer to the implied question '- then -'.
   
   
8. Or rather, my wistful '- then -' is met with everlasting silence.

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Yes, I think we have both agreed with each other in so many words; my admitted verbosity does not help. :lol:

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Originally Posted by Gladys

While Dickinson may 'not read with the greatest ease', she's a wonderful poet.

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Strongly agreed. Forever one of my favorites that has infinitely contributed to my love for poetry, as well as Dickinson herself:

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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 played
At wrestling in a ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’t is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

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Seeing you as a fellow Dickinson fan, I think the only poem I like by contemporary poet, Billy Collins, somewhat crudely entitled "Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes," explores not the exploitation of the poet, as initially meets the eye, but more an exploitation of Dickinson's poetry. She attempted publication very few times, and even had less published, as an individual who desired secrecy and solitude more than expression; we can see this theme in many of her poems. By posthumously publishing all of her poetry, do you sometimes also feel as though it seems like an invasion of privacy, as she never intended to publish most of her poetry, in Collins' words, like removing her clothing? I thought it very thought-provoking and offensive the first time I read it, until I actually understood it, apparently unlike the mindless, sexist two commentators at the bottom of the page. :rolleyes:

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Originally Posted by mono

Billy Collins, somewhat crudely entitled "Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes,"

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Thanks, Mono, for a poem reflecting Dickinson's preference to be read by poets rather than plebeians.

As thanks for your poetic gift, I submit this offering:

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Abraham to kill him
Was distinctly told—
Isaac was an Urchin—
Abraham was old—

Not a hesitation—
Abraham complied—
Flattered by Obeisance
Tyranny demurred—

Isaac—to his children
Lived to tell the tale—
Moral—with a mastiff
Manners may prevail.

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