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RCL 08-04-2021 12:40 PM

More on Emily Dickinson's Conceptual Rhymes
 
In an earlier post, I noted Emily Dickinson’s use of conceptual rhyme. Here are a few more notes:

I have a Bird in spring
Which for myself doth sing—
The spring decoys.
And as the summer nears—
And as the Rose appears,
Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Learneth beyond the sea
Melody new for me
And will return.

Fast is a safer hand
Held in a truer Land
Are mine
And though they now depart,
Tell I my doubting heart
They're thine.

In a serener Bright,
In a more golden light
I see
Each little doubt and fear,
Each little discord here
Removed.

Then will I not repine,
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.


Some possible reading of the conceptual rhymes: decoys make birds (gone) only appear to be present, birds/true robins weren’t present; bird flown away/bird returned; bird is mine privately imagined/now that bird is thine—inspired to work out these and the rest?! So far, is her bird in spring an illusion, never appears? Each conceptually related monometer pair is in sharp contrast with the alternating trimeter and perfectly rhymed couplets.

mignon ledgard 08-11-2021 11:12 AM

Thanks, RCL
 
Dear Ralph,

This is lofty, methinks. I haven't known what to say. I'd like to say she makes it look simple, but I don't think so.

I'm shrinking,
~mignon

RCL 08-12-2021 10:58 AM

Yes, it only appears simple, and is striking to me that she could do that in one of her earliest known poems.

With age, we're all shrinking. I wonder why. It's unsettling!

mignon ledgard 08-12-2021 11:56 AM

RCL latest post on ED
 
Hello, Ralph,

Thanks for the giggles. Re: we're all shrinking. I used to be taller than my daughter -- no more -- she loves it, calls me "cute." I never wanted to be cute, but maybe it's better than any alternative..

I'd like to understand this post better than I do. I'm, by far, not a scholar, and this post is among the most, if not the most humbling I've read.

I'll be checking this thread. Again, thank you for the teacher's spirit which reminds me of how much my father enjoyed teaching. I was privileged to see him, in his late eighties, reunited with the one who took his place, and a great honor to have met a few of his students, too, one of whom went on to teach at the same university: San Marcos. I 'inherited' their friendship and have them to miss, too.

It's a beautiful thing, Ralph!
~mignon

RCL 09-03-2021 11:44 AM

Thanks mignon. Since I last looked here, I had to settle for less. More on Ms D. soon.

mignon ledgard 09-03-2021 11:13 PM

Ralph!

I'm chuckling, but I don't know why--what's this about "I had to settle for less."

In any case, I'm looking forward for more on Ms D.

~m

RCL 09-13-2021 01:43 PM

Enjoy her ride?

(Johnson 712; Franklin 479)

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—


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