Fascicle One, Sheet 4a

Tags

Bonaventure, Emily Dickinson, photography, Poetry

Bonaventure Cemetery, Savannah, Georgia

Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So sailors say–on yesterday–
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say–on yesterday–
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat–o’erspent with gales–
Retrimmed its masts–redecked its sails–
And shot–exultant on!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

Note: Several aspects of this poem appear in the paintings Manhood and Old Age by Thomas Cole, part of his allegorical series The Voyage of Life (1842). In one of her letters, Emily Dickinson signed herself as “Cole”.

Fascicle One, Sheet 3e

Tags

Emily Dickinson, photography, Poetry

Hillcrest Abbey Cemetery, Savannah, Georgia

If those I loved were lost
The Crier’s voice w’d tell me–
If those I loved were found
The bells of Ghent w’d ring–
Did those I loved repose
The Daisy would impel me.
Philip*–when bewildered
Bore his riddle in!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

*Philip van Artevelde was the hero of Sir Henry Taylor’s 1834 dramatic romance of the same name. Philip dies in Ghent while puzzling over the fact and mode of his dying. The play was based on the real Philip who was a leader of Ghent in 1381 at the head of the burgher’s rebellion against Count Louis II of Flanders. Early success after the Battle of Beverhoutsveld, led to the capture of Bruges and most of Flanders by the rebels, but Philip perished in the crush of bodies at the Battle of Roosebeke in 1382.

Fascicle One, Sheet 3d

Tags

Emily Dickinson, photography, Poetry

Sunset, Tucson, Arizona

So has a Daisy vanished
From the fields today–
So tiptoed many a slipper
To Paradise away–
Oozed so, in crimson bubbles
Day’s departing tide–
Blooming–tripping–flowing–
Are ye then with God?
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

Fascicle One, Sheet 3c

Tags

Emily Dickinson, photography, Poetry

Morns like these–we parted–
Noons like these–she rose–
Fluttering first–then firmer
To her fair repose.

Never did she lisp it–
It was not for me–
She–was mute from transport–
I–from agony–

Till–the evening nearing
One the curtains drew–
Quick! A sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858