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The Man Who Blogged Too Much

7/26/2026

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O Reader! Dear Reader! My research trip’s not done
The train awaits upon its track, till sites I seek are won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow I the steady trail, my purpose great and daring.
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the drying drops of ink,
                               Upon the page my Poet filled,
                                  Written bold, distinct –
 
O Reader! My Reader! Read on and hear the thrills!
Read on – for you the blog is penned – for you the tea is spilled,
For you bouquets and brilliant words – for you the tales a-churning,
For you I blog, the waiting mass, your eager faces turning;
                         Here Reader! Dear comrade!
                            This blog before your eyes!
                               It is my dream that in some way
                                 It fills you with surprise!

 
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You might be surprised to know, dear reader, that I do have an editor, Kay Sera, but I believe she’s given up on me.  I call out to her often, “Kay Sera – Sera” – but lately she’s stopped answering – so whatever will be, will be.

Here’s the deal (and I'll attmept to self-edit, so please be patent):

* I took a six-night/seven day trip New York, Boston, and Amherst, to visit various libraries and Dickinson-related sites.

* I’ve been blogging about my journey for eight days now – this being the ninth – and I’ve covered only two days worth of Dickinsonian details. 
* In yesterday’s post, I wrapped up (for now) my stopover in the Empire City, and in today’s, I present my travels to the Hub of the Universe, Boston.

* My trek further north began on the morning of July Twelfth at the Moynihan Train Hall at Pennsylvania Station. There, I broke into song and dance:
Pardon me, bro –
Is that the train to Massachusetts?
     Yes, yes 
–
     Track 29!
Bro, I hope it leaves right on time.
     Can you afford to board the train to Massachusetts?
I've got my fare
And just a trifle to spare
You leave the Pennsylvania station 'bout a quarter to nine
Read a magazine as Rotten Groton flies by 
–
Have lunch at your coach seat
A turkey wrap with cold meat
Don’t forget to use the cover on the John seat!

When you hear the whistleblowing eight to the bar
Then you know that Boston’s station ain’t very far
Shovel all the coal in
Gotta keep it rolling

Woo, woo, Massachusetts there you are!
​

What with the FIFA World Cup soccer games, a tall ship flotilla, and my arrival, Boston was a-buzz with excitement! To steer clear of throngs of fans and the paparazzi. I stayed a few miles outside of town in Medford, along the Mystic River.

MEDFORD: 

At the time of European contact and exploration, Medford was the winter home of the Naumkeag people, and in 1630 the town of Medford was established by English colonists as part of Charlestown of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  In the late 17th century, the town engaged its first ordained preacher, Rev. John Hancock Sr., grandfather to John Hancock, and in the 18th century, it was home to Sarah Bradlee Fulton, known as the “Mother of the Boston Tea Party.”
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Other facts about Medford are curious and curiouser (Oops!  I was so much surprised, that for the moment I quite forgot how to speak good English).

* Medford was home to Fannie Farmer, author of one of the world's most famous cookbooks.

* Amelia Earhart lived in Medford for a time.

* Elizabeth Short, the victim of an infamous Hollywood murder and who became known as The Black Dahlia, grew up in Medford before moving west to seek fame and fortune.

* One of the biggest bank robberies and jewel heists in world history happened on Memorial Day weekend in 1980, when several officers of the Medford Police and Metropolitan District Commission Police forces robbed the Depositors Trust Bank in Medford Square, yielding an estimated $25 million.
 
* In the late 19th century, Medford resident James Pierpont is said to have written "Jingle Bells"(originally called “A One Horse Open Sleigh”) after watching a sleigh race from Medford to Malden.  There is plaque at 19 High Street in the center of Medford Square.

(NOTE:  There is much more to the story of “Jingle Bells” that I will cover in some future post.)
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* Medford was also home to abolitionist George Luther Stearns, an American industrialist and one of John Brown's Secret Six.  During the Civil War, he was given the rank of major by Massachusetts Governor John Andrew, and he spent most of the Civil War recruiting for the 54th and 55th Massachusetts regiments and the 5th Cavalry.

NOW, TWO THINGS TO TAKE NOTE ABOUT THE INFO ON STEARNS ABOVE:

1. In an upcoming post concerning my time in Boston, I will discuss Robert Gould Shaw, a Union officer during the Civil War who accepted command of the first all-black regiment – the 54th Massachusetts.

2.  Another member of John Brown’s Secret Six – are you ready for this – Thomas Wentworth Higginson, the editor at The Atlantic who corresponded with Emily Dickinson!  Plus, during the Civil War, Higginson served as colonel of the 1st South Carolina Volunteers, the first federally authorized black regiment. Check out this page on Higginson, sponsored by the National Park Service, HERE. 

LOTS MORE PICS FROM MEDFORD ARE ON MY TRAVELOGUE, "DIAL 'EM' FOR EMILY," HERE. 
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In the evening, my wife and I – along with my sister who was being a good sport to travel  with me on my Dickinsonian quest – enjoyed dinner at a wonderful establishment called El Tacuba, and then... 
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...the next morning, off we drove Cambridge, to the campus of Harvard, to the Houghton Library, to the…. 

Well, do you know what’s inside the Houghton Library?
​
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Hold on to your hats, dear reader!  Buckle up, brace yourself, and sit tight!  Things shift into high gear tomorrow!
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Lots more pics from Medford, MA, on my travelogue, "Dial 'Em' for Emily," HERE.  

More posts from my trip are here:

07.25.2026:  STRANGE TURNS ON A TRAIN, CLICK HERE. 
07.24.2026:  HOW SWEETEST IT IS, CLICK HERE. 
07.23.2026:  A DATE WITH DESTINY, CLICK HERE.
07.22.2026:  THIS – IS THE BLOG POST – ​THE SUNSET WASHES, CLICK HERE.
07.21.2026:  DOUBLE ETERNITY, CLICK HERE. 
07.20.2026:  THE ORACLE WORE A WHITE DRESS -- PART DEUX, CLICK HERE.
07.19.2026:  ALL THINGS MATTER, CLICK HERE. 
07.18.2026:  INTRODUCTORY PLOG POST ABOUT "DIAL 'EM' FOR EMILY," CLICK HERE.
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How Sweetest It Is

7/24/2026

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Dear readers, the story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. 

This is the city, New York, New York.   It's a big city with a big heart, and it offers a lot – museums, libraries, galleries, and about 700 miles of subway track.

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​I visited there.  I’m Jim Friday, a literary sleuth.  I carry a library card.  It was Saturday, July 11.  The day was hot and crisp, like an over-baked baked crust of a slice of New York Pizza.  I was working the Rare Books and Manuscripts detail.  My partner was scoping out sales in Activewear at Macy’s.
 
I was investigating a gang of prest-o-change-o poetry forgers out or Amherst, Massachusetts, back in the 1800s. Seems that someone by the name of Helen Hunt Jackson had submitted a poem for an 1878 publication called A Masque of Poets, 
some pilfered lines from a poetess by the name of Emily Frickinson (don’t forget now – I’ve changed the names to protect the innocent).  Furthermore, another member of the gang had the poem published earlier in an 1864 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Union, and in both cases, the work was a skillfully crafted counterfeit.   
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I was in New York for an appointment with Kyle, Rare Books Librarian and Archivist Extraordinaire in the Stephen A. Schwarzman building of the New York Public Library.  I was there to cross-reference some unresolved hand-written notes penned by one Genevieve Taggard in 1924 in an original case document, The Complete Poems of Emily Frickinson (again, don't forget -- I changed the names of the innocent).  I also had to identify the forgeries from a line up. 
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The poem in question begins "Success is counted sweetest," and a detective on the case, back in 1998, Sgt. R. W. Franklin, said this:

"Four fair copies (one lost), about 1859 and 1862.  The earliest holograph, in pencil without address or signature, was sent to Susan Frickinson about summer 1859."

Below: The earliest version of the poem.
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Sgt. Franklin continued with this:

"If Susan did not provide a transcript, a lost manuscript, presumably from about 1859, must have been the source for publication in the Brooklyn Daily Union on 27 April, 1864. The newspaper's connections to Amherst were several, including Emily Fowler Ford, who grew up with Emily Frickinson and Richard Salter Storrs, Jr., and Charles Sweetser, both graduates of the college and experienced editors well known to all the Frickinsons"

One of those guilty parties most certainly pilfered the poem and submitted it for publication -- BUT -- whoever it was, changed the word "Requires" in line 4 to "Requireth."

I tried to track down a copy of the poem as printed in the April 1864 edition of the Brooklyn Dailly Union, but the only copy I could find was on a site that required a paid subscription -- and since I'm on a tight budget, that was a "no-go."  However, in the fragment the site provided to entice me to register, shown below, you can see that, indeed, the counterfeiter had changed "requires" to "requireth."
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Sgt. Franklin also reported that the poem appeared  later in A Masque of Poets (1878):

"From Higginson's copy, as three quatrains.  (Frickinson) resisted this appearance in print -- the determined effort of Helen Hunt Jackson, who knew the poem from Higginson...which had been altered for publication." 
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At the left: "Success is counted sweetest" as it appeared in A Masque of Poets.  Below left:  Corrections Genevieve Taggard made to the poem in her copy of the 1924 The Complete Poems of Emily Frickinson.   Below right: The poem with Taggard's corrections shown in RED.  It appears that she was trying to match the poem as published in A Masque of Poets; however, she missed one of the changes made in that book's copy - in line 8.  The Masque copy begins with "So plain" and the Taggard's version has "So clear."  
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Detective Cristanne Miller, in her case file The Letters of Emily Dickinson (2016), divulged, “The December 10, 1878, review in Literary World quotes in full and comments on ‘Success is counted sweetest,’ speculating that it is by Emerson.”

You read that right, dear reader.  A reviewer in 1878 believed Frickinson's lines were penned by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I stared at Taggard's handwritten notes from 1924 one last time.  What was she trying to tell me?  I took a last long drag of my cigarette, letting the ash drop onto the desk like the remains of another wasted day. 

[NOTE:  I wasn't really smoking.  I just said that for dramatic effect.]

The clues seemed to point everywhere and lead nowhere, and I had so many questions -- like Is the “Pizza Principle” a real thing (that the cost of a single slice of NY pizza generally matches the cost of a subway ride)?  And what's with the Statue of Liberty’s address – if it sits in the waters of New Jersey, why is it thought to be a New York icon?

I was getting tired. This Frickinson case could wait until tomorrow. Hell, the whole world could wait. At that time, the only mystery I needed to solve was how to find five minutes of shut-eye in a town that never sleeps. 
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Below left and center:  The version of "Success is counted sweetest" from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924).  Below right & other images:  Comparison of other versions to the 1924 copy. 
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My complete travelogue, "Dial 'Em' for Emily is HERE. 

More posts from my trip are here:

07.23.2026:  A DATE WITH DESTINY, CLICK HERE.
07.22.2026:  THIS – IS THE BLOG POST – ​THE SUNSET WASHES, CLICK HERE.

07.21.2026:  DOUBLE ETERNITY, CLICK HERE. 
07.20.2026:  THE ORACLE WORE A WHITE DRESS -- PART DEUX, CLICK HERE.
07.19.2026:  ALL THINGS MATTER, CLICK HERE. 
07.18.2026:  INTRODUCTORY PLOG POST ABOUT "DIAL 'EM' FOR EMILY," CLICK HERE.

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A Date with Destiny

7/23/2026

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If you have been following my daily posts, dear reader, then you know I’ve been chronicling the events from the first leg of my recent Dickinson-related trip to New York, Boston, and Amherst. If you have not been following my daily posts, I’ve been chronicling the events from the first leg of my recent Dickinson-related trip to New York, Boston, and Amherst.

At oh-thirteen-hundred (or is it just "thirteen-hundred"?) on the eleventh day of the seventh month – of the year and not of my trip – I entered the Brook Russell Astor Reading Room in the North Hall of the Stephen  A. Schwarzman building of the New York Public Library for my rendezvous with destiny in the Rare Books and Manuscripts chamber. 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the mid of summer,
And each separate glowing light source wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
    From their books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the Belle of yore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whose poetry I adore --
            Famous now for evermore.
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There upon a midday eerie, I’d hoped to ponder, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
“Surely,” said I, “surely there is something in this ghostly chamber;
      Let me see, then, what there is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore”--
            And here I opened wide the door –

Spooky, huh?

Yes, dear reader, as the clock struck one on the eleventh calendar day of Quintilis, I entered the Rare Books and Manuscripts chamber and spoke to Kyle, Rare Books Librarian and Archivist Extraordinaire, who helped me register for a NYPL library card and complete the required documentation and administrative tasks necessary to obtain and peruse a timeworn volume.

I had hoped to view (and hold) one of the first three in the series of Dickinson’s Poems (
from 1890, 1891 and/or 1896) edited by Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Wentworth Higginson..  However, that was not to be.  Such notable and valuable editions are marked for “exhibition only."  Therefore, I inquired about a 1924 publication of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, and Kyle worked his magic.  He informed me that the volume was, indeed, available for inspection.  He asked that I return at two o'clock in order to give him time to retrieve it from the vault.  I was there on the dot.
 
At that time, a cordial librarian aide (alas, I do not recall his name) seated me at a table, prepared a black Styrofoam frame upon which to cradle the book, and handed me the volume.  

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To be honest, I thought my study of the book would be quick.  I knew it was a compilation of four previous publications – the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series of Poems edited by Mabel Loomis Todd, and all of the works from The Single Hound (1914) edited by Emily Dickinson’s niece, Martha Dickinson Bianchi.  I thought I would thumb through pages casually, snap a few pics, take a quick look at “Because I could not stop for Death” – the main reason I’d asked to see this volume – and be on my way.   

I wanted to check out “Because I could not stop for Death” because I’d only recently discovered the version in this book differed from the two versions of the poems with which I am familiar – Dickinson’s version and Todd’s version – but I’ll get to that in some future post.  For now, let me say, that what I thought would be a quick glance through the pages of the 1924 The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson was anything but – and my decelerated scrutiny of the pages began with the opening poem of the book on page 3, “Success is counted sweetest."
 
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Someone had made handwritten corrections to the text of the poem and had written below it, “Higginson wrote in Masque of Poets ‘altered probably by Helen Hunt.”  On the side of the page, in pencil, is the word “war.”
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What did all of that mean?  Well – I knew what all of that meant. “Success is counted sweetest” is one of the handful of poems by Dickinson published in her lifetime, and her friend Helen Hunt had submitted it for inclusion in an 1878 poetry anthology, “Masque of Poets,” published by Roberts Brothers and edited by George Parsons Lathrop – and at some point, Dickinson’s friend, mentor, and later editor, Thomas Wentworth Higginson must have indicated that alterations to the poem were probably made by Hunt. 
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Who had made that note in the book I was perusing?  This was no cursory comment from some casual reader of poetry.  This was made by someone “in the know."  Who had owned this book?  Turns out it was owned by one Genevieve Taggard. She’d signed the first page and dated it “July 24 – 24," 1924, the very year the book was first published.  
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Hmm…I was familiar, of course, with Dickinson and Todd – but  bachelorette number three,  the captivating Genevieve Taggard?  No, she was a mystery to me – but by reading through her marginalia, I could tell – the woman knew her stuff -- and I was on a date with destiny.
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My heart is still palpitating.  Let me catch my breath!

More on Taggard, her corrections to “Success is counted sweetest,” the rest of her marginalia, and The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson is coming tomorrow – and beyond!  Stay tuned!

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MORE:  See more pages from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson in my travelogue, "Dial 'Em' for Emily," HERE. 

More posts from my trip are here:

07.22.2026:  THIS – IS THE BLOG POST – ​THE SUNSET WASHES, CLICK HERE.

07.21.2026:  DOUBLE ETERNITY, CLICK HERE. 
07.20.2026:  THE ORACLE WORE A WHITE DRESS -- PART DEUX, CLICK HERE.
07.19.2026:  ALL THINGS MATTER, CLICK HERE. 
07.18.2026:  INTRODUCTORY PLOG POST ABOUT "DIAL 'EM' FOR EMILY," CLICK HERE.
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An Incomplete Complete Volume

7/6/2026

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In yesterday’s post, I shared a version of “Because I could not stop for Death” which I had never seen before.  It was from a 1924 edition of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson edited by the poet’s niece, Martha Dickinson Bianchi. I knew of the volume; I’d just not seen one though, nor did I realize it contained previously published works with additional modifications.
 
Here’s a recap of the early publications through 1924:
 
1886:   Emily Dickinson died on May 15
 
1890:   “Poems,” first series edited by Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson
 
1891:   “Poems,” second series edited by Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson
 
1896:   “Poems,” third series edited by Mabel Loomis Todd
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NOTE:  Mabel Todd ceased publishing additional volumes of poems (until 1945) due to a lawsuit brought against her by Dickinson’s sister, Lavinia, who successfully sued to reclaim a strip of meadow her brother, Austin Dickinson, had deeded to Todd. The victory caused a permanent rift, leading Todd to lock up Emily Dickinson's remaining unpublished manuscripts.
 
1914:  “The Single Hound, Poems of a Lifetime,” poems and letters by Dickinson edited by Martha Dickinson Bianchi

1924:  “The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson,” edited by Martha Dickinson Bianchi; this volume included all of the poems from the first, second, and third series and “The Single Hound,” for a total of 595 poems, or about one third of all of Dickinson’s poetry. 
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Bianchi included this “NOTE” at the start of her volume:
 
For the convenience of readers familiar with previous editions of Emily Dickinson’s poems the original four divisions have here been retained, each now including all the poems of its own group in the three volumes of the series.

The names given to many of the poems by former editors have been dropped, leaving them as they were found in manuscript, — not entitled; but the old landmarks of “Life, Nature, Love, Time and Eternity” remain at suggestion of the publisher, for whose kind consideration I make sincere acknowledgement, as also for the invaluable assistance of Alfred Leete Hampson.


Therefore, this 1924 included all of the poems from the first three series, categorized under the previously applied groupings of Life, Nature, Love, and Time & Eternity, plus all of the poems published ten years earlier in “The Single Hound.”

Below:  Bianchi's "Introduction" to the collection (click the image to enlarge):​
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Idyl Thoughts

6/29/2026

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Just days ago, I learned that Mabel Loomis Todd’s father, Eben Jenks Loomis, helped edit at least one of Dickinson’s poems for the first posthumous publications of her work. I wrote about it HERE.  I then investigated Loomis himself and discovered that, above and beyond his work as an astronomer (or whatever it was he did in the field), he also wrote poetry.

“There are eddies from time to time in the current of duty which permit the mind to range out into a field of thought quite about from everyday routine,” Loomis wrote in the introduction to his book “A Sunset Idyl and Other Poems” – and it was during these moments, these “quiet intervals,” where he found the time to dabble in the composition of poesy. 

His book was published in 1903, and he dedicated it to his wife Mary in honor of “the fiftieth year of our wedded life.”  You can view the entire book, HERE. I took a look at one of his poems, the eponymous work, “A Sunset Idyl,” and I wasn’t surprised at all by what I read.  
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The first two lines of the work alone called to mind a post I'd published last December (HERE).  At that time, I was reviewing a handful of poems by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, the very gentleman who, for the Belle of Amherst, predicted “oblivion.”  In my post I acknowledged this:

“I suppose I’ve been a bit harsh with my reviews of his poems – they’re not bad – but they are certainly what I expected, outdated verse with grandiloquent, pretentious language. Aldrich, like many poets from the 19th century, suffered from what we in the industry call OVP, or Overambitious Versification Pathosis, sometimes referred to as ‘fancy pants syndrome.’”
Now, six months later, I read just two lines of Loomis’ “A Sunset Idyl,” and there, as plain as the drifting clouds athwart the hills, I detected Overambitious Versification Pathosis” (OVP).

All day the drifting clouds had trailed along
Their gray, cool wreaths of mist athwart the hills

 
I experienced several allergic reactions:  I rolled my eyes. I sighed noticeably. I fidgeted. To lessen these effects, I took a cleansing breath and read on (I won't lie; I also used some smelling salts to control a mild bout of lipothymia).
 
The next four lines of Loomis’ work reminded me of yet another post I had published about five months ago, one about a poem written by Thomas Wentworth Higginson (HERE). In a letter to Mabel Loomis Todd, Higginson reflected upon his own seven-stanza, twenty-eight-line poem entitled “Decoration” and noted that Dickinson, after reading his poem, had written a similar but much briefer work. Higginson confessed, “It is the condensed essence of that & so far finer.”
 
[Just FYI: Dickinson’s "far finer" poem to which he referred was “Lay this laurel on the one.”]
 
I don’t mean to be persnickety, but – well, yes, maybe I do -- but many of Loomis’ lines seemed like text-book examples of 19th century long-winded poetry and many of his images evoked similarly-themed works by Dickinson that – in Higginson’s words – were “so far finer.”
Lines 3 through 6 from Loomis’ “A Sunset Idyl,” for example, called to mind Dickinson’s “The skies can’t keep their secret," shown at the right.

​From Eben Jenks Loomis' "A Sunset Idyl":

All day the gentle rain with whispering voice
Had seemed to tell some secret of the clouds,
And the hushed earth had listened all day long
To catch the story from the sky-born rain.


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Lines 7 through 12 from Loomis called to mind various thunderstorm poems by Dickinson; one example, "A Cap of Lead across the sky," is shown at the right. 

Once only waked the thunder and the wind;
In the black west a mighty cloud uprose,
And from the lurid purple of its mane
Shook down the rain and thunder to the earth,
And the quick lightning shivering through
​          the gloom
Flashed Ike a sudden meteor in the night.

 
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I'm just twelve lines into this ten-and-a-half page poem, and I'm feeling lightheaded again.  Let me retire to my fainting couch to gather my thoughts.

More on "A Sunset Idyl" tomorrow. 
​
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The I of the Beholder

6/23/2026

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SPIT-TAKE WARNING:  This post comes with one of the funniest lines I think I've ever read from Dickinson -- so be forewarned:  Do not be caught off guard with a mouthful of water, coffee, mimosa or margarita when reading it.  You might just end up spraying your libation all over yourself and others!

HYPERVENTILATING WARNING:  This post also comes with an extremely cogent and piercing observation by Dickinson about human vulnerability, and you might just find yourself gasping for air in awe when you read it.  Having an oxygen tank nearby is highly recommended. 
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Two days ago, I stumbled upon information about Mabel Loomis Todd’s father, Eben Jenks Loomis.  Mabel Todd was the first editor of the posthumous publications of Dickinson’s poetry, and evidently her father helped with the editing – for at least on one poem (“It will be summer – eventually”); perhaps more?
 
In the fall of 1884, Eben Loomis and his Mary visited their daughter Mabel in Amherst on at least two occasions.  At one point (again, perhaps more?) they dropped by the Homestead, Dickinson’s home, and visited with Dickinson’s sister Lavinia.  They never met the poet, though I tend to think they tried to coax her out of her room.  At best they probably heard her voice wafting down from a distant room or hallway.
 
In the fall and winter of 1884 and in early 1885, Dickinson sent the Loomises a handful of letters. I published three of them in yesterday’s post (HERE).  In half of the letters, she seems to apologize (albeit craftily) and/or to express regret for not having been available to meet them; in a couple of the letters, she thanks them for various gifts.

In this letter dated November 19, 1884, Dickinson quotes from 2 Timothy, 1:12, and thanks the Loomises for an unidentified offering – and I have to say that it contains one of the most hilarious lines I think I have ever read from Dickinson!  The witty wisecrack comes right at the start when Dickinson refers to her “meeting” with the Loomises as an “atmospheric acquaintance,” one “recently and delightfully made” (and “absolute as Ether”).
 
LOL – I can just picture the Loomises at the Homestead with their daughter Mabel and Emily’s sister Lavinia, all hollerin’ up the stairwell – and Dickinson calling back from behind her bedroom door, hence, an “atmospheric acquaintance.”   I could not contain my laughter after reading that opening line!
 
Here’s the letter:
 
Dear Friends,
 
The atmospheric acquaintance so recently and delightfully made, is not, I trust, ephemeral, but absolute as Ether, as the delicate Emblem just received, tenderly implies.  Thank you for the Beauty – thank you too for Boundlessness – that rarely given, but choicest Gift.  To “know in whom” we “have believed”, is Immortality.
 
Oh what a Grace is this,
What Majesties of Peace,
That having breathed
The fine – ensuing Right
Without Diminuet Proceed!
 
With trust,
 
E. Dickinson –
 

According to Dickinson scholar Thomas Johnson, this next letter – from December 1, 1884 – “was written to thank the Loomises for a copy of The Story of Ida. Written by Francesca Alexander, it was published in 1883, with a preface by Ruskin.” 
 
Again, I can just picture Mabel and her mother and father dropping by the Homestead with another “offering” in hopes of luring the elusive wren* from her nest (in July 1862, Dickinson described herself to Thomas Wentworth Higginson as “small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur- and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves”).
 
Here’s the letter:
 
Dear friends –
 
The etherial Volume is with us - In sweet and rapid evidence the assurance comes.
 
The Thank you in my heart obstructs the Thank you on my Lips.
 
How little of our depth we tell, though we confide our shallowness to "every passing Breeze-"
 
I hope the Ones are well, who bear such loveliness. By their tints ye shall know them.
 
The Hands I never took, I take anew, still wondering at my privilege.
 
With love,
E. Dickinson –

 
WOW!  Take a look at that third line of the letter:  “How little of our depth we tell, though we confide our shallowness to ‘every passing Breeze.’”  What a cogent observation about human vulnerability and superficiality, laid out in a single, pithy line of a short letter to a couple she never met – that we humans tend to guard our profound and genuine emotions in silence, yet we freely broadcast our trivial and everyday thoughts, our “shallowness,” to anyone who will listen.  Once again, is Dickinson cunningly letting the Loomises know that she does not (and will not) know them*, that they cannot tempt her from her room with gratuitous gifts?   To drive the point home, Dickinson concludes her letter with “The Hands I never took, I take anew.”
 
 
Finally, in January 1885, Dickinson sent this letter to the Loomises to thank them for a Christmas card she had received from them:
 
Dear friends –
 
I thought as I saw the exultant Face and the uplifted Letter,
 
Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy,
And I am richer then than all my Fellow Men-
Ill it becometh me to dwell so wealthily
When at my very Door are those possessing more,
In abject poverty –
 
And what is Ecstasy but Affection and what is Affection but the Germ of the little Note?
 
A Letter is a joy of Earth –
 
It is denied the God –
 
Emily,
with Love.

 
Hmm…isn’t she explaining to the Loomises once again that the best they’ll ever get from her is a “little Note”? 

And maybe they finally got the point, because from this point forward, I don’t believe there were any further interactions or gifts – and no further correspondences.
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*In a letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson in July 1862, Dickinson said, "You ask of my Companions Hills- Sir-and the Sundown-and a Dog-large as myself, that my Father bought me-They are better than Beings-because they know-but do not tell."  I suspect Dickinson viewed the Loomises as part of that multitude of "Beings."

By the way, you can see copies of the six letters I’ve shared yesterday and today on the Amherst College Library’s “Digital Collections” page, HERE.

And here’s something a bit odd:  I found Dickinson's letter of December 1884 presented in Russian on this site, HERE.   I threw that third line into Google translate just to see how it would translate back into English, and I got this:
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Finally this portrait of Eben Jenks Loomis by Edwin Burrage Child is in the collection of the Smithsonian; however, it is not currently on display:
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Three Piece Suit

5/25/2026

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Back on May 13, I wrote about a podcast I’d discovered – well, actually a webpage about a podcast because the page with the actual audio file was missing – and the info on the page centered on a discussion between media host Christopher Lydon and professor and literary critic Helen Vendler.  Lydon had interviewed Vendler on her book Dickinson, Selected Poems and Commentaries. The page I’d found included a bit of their exchange on a three-line poem by Dickinson, “In the name of the bee.”  My post about it is HERE.

I ended up ordering Vendler’s book before flying off to Chicago for the weekend, and I started reading it on my flight.  The first of 150 poems she discusses is “In the name of the bee,” and of this poem, Vendler said this:

“Dickinson’s first editors thought that this short invocation couldn’t be a complete poem.  Making one poem out of three poems transcribed by Dickinson on a single page, they tacked this little tercet onto the end of their compound assembly.”

However, Vendler doesn’t mention the other two poems of the “assembly.”  What works did first editors Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Wentworth Higginson combine to create a single poem?

I checked and found the three lines of “In the name of the bee” in the second series of Dickinson’s Poems as the benediction to a poem Todd titled “Summer’s Obsequies.”  The other two poems are “The Gentian weaves her fringes” and “A brief, but patient illness.”  To be fair to Todd and Higginson, I can understand how and why they interpreted the three creations as one.  Take a look at the manuscript, the three appear as one.
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Thomas Johnson included the three as one in his 1955 compilation, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, poem #18.  However, R. W. Franklin separated the poems in his 1998 edition The Poems of Emily Dickinson, poems numbered 21, 22, and 23.  Cristanne Miller noted the following in her 2016 volume, Emily Dickinson’s Poems As She Preserved Them:

“THJ regards the first three poems of F1 (Fascicle 1) as a single poem because they are separated by white space, not a drawn line. RWF prints three poems.”

Miller also presents the three as separate poems. 

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Back to Vendler’s comment about "In the name of the Bee":  “Dickinson’s first editors thought that this short invocation couldn’t be a complete poem.”  She added, “And in fact such a short poem raises the question of what counts as a poem at all.”  

I’ll get into that tomorrow.
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Irrational Thoughts

5/9/2026

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Due to a parallel between Dickinson and Frost (discussed HERE), I decided to take a look at Dickinson’s use of “sweep,” “sweeps,” “swept” and “sweeping.”  I shared poems with “sweeping” a couple of days ago (HERE), and today I have a quick look at “swept.” 

A search of “swept” on the Dickinson Archive generates twenty entries, representing eight poems:

All things swept sole away
Grief is a Mouse –
Like brooms of steel
Like Rain it sounded till it curved
Me prove it now – Whoever doubt
Of all the sounds despatched abroad
The Winters are so short –
To her derided Home


At two lines, “All things swept sole away” is one of if not the shortest poem by Dickinson, (there is a one line fragment included in some editions of her poetry):

All things swept sole away
This – is immensity –

 
As far as I can tell, this poem was first published in the 1931 volume Letters of Emily Dickinson edited by Mabel Loomis Todd.  The two lines are part of an 1881 letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson.  Later, the work was published as a stand alone poem in Thomas Johnson’s 1955 edition of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.  It also appears in R. W. Franklin’s 1998 The Poems of Emily Dickinson and in Cristanne Miller’s 2016 Emily Dickinson’s Poems as She Preserved Them.   In Miller’s edition, the poem appears in the section entitled “Poems Not Retained” with the footnote, “Sent to TWH c. 1881.”  Miller also includes the endnote,  “Follows ED’s comment, “It is solemn to remember that Vastness – is but the Shadow of the Brain which casts it –”

Here's the page of the letter with the lines to Higginson in Dickinson’s handwriting:
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You can see the complete transcript of the letter in Dickinson's handwriting HERE. 

However, in every volume of Dickinson’s letters, the lines are shown as being indented – as if Dickinson included the lines as a poem.
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In the handwritten transcript of the letter, though, the two lines are not set off at all – they just appear as the additional lines of the letter. 
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What do you make of this?  Do you think the lines constitute a separate poem?  And what do you make of the lines themselves?

Let me ramble here for a minute:

Dickinson’s profound but paradoxical statements reminded me of a debate I had years ago with my eighth grade math teacher.  It was a heated discussion which centered on the fact that an infinite space can have boundaries. At the time, I was a non-believer, and it blew my mind in later years when I realized my teacher had been right all along. 


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Dickinson’s lines and this middle school memory also called to mind a bit of dialogue from “Bart the Genius,” the second episode of the first season of “The Simpsons.”  In this episode, Bart is thought to be “gifted,” so – at Principal Skinner’s delight – he is transferred from Springfield Elementary School to the Enriched Learning Center for Gifted Children, where his Learning Coordinator picks up on a previous lesson:
 
Ms. Mellon: And now we can continue our debate from yesterday. When we left off, Calvin and Tanya were arguing that free will is an illusion.

Ian:  If you ask me humankind has freedom, a freedom fraught with paradoxes. Freud shows how childhood shapes our subconscious mind, but this helps us to think for ourselves.

Ms. Mellon: Very good, Ian. Does anyone else have an example of a paradox?

Boy: Without law and order, man has no freedom.

Girl: If you want peace you must prepare for war.

Ms. Mellon: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Well, it seems the smartest child in the class is also the quietest. Bart, what other paradoxes affect our lives?

Bart: Well, you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't.

Ms. Mellon: Well, I guess that would be a paradox too. (chuckles) Thank you, Bart.

 

So let’s get back to Dickinson's lines:
 
It is solemn to remember that Vastness – is but the Shadow of the Brain which casts it – All things swept sole away / This – is immensity –
 
* If Vastness is an expanse created by “the Shadow of the Brain which casts it,” doesn’t the existence of a shadow imply that there is more; therefore “vastness” is even more vast than the vastness imagined by the brain which created the vastness?  (See: “The universe is wider than our views of it.”  ~ Henry David Thoreau)
 
* If all things are swept away -- thus creating immensity in the sense of vastness – then, on the other hand, if all things are gathered, is the immensity created greater or lesser than the immensity of the immensity of all things being swept away?
 
Allow me to go off on another tangent:
 
If one individual has a bucket with every possible  integer in it, another individual has a bucket with every positive integer (we’ve “swept away” the negative ones), and a third individual has a bucket with every even positive integer (we’ve swept away the negatives and the odd positives), which person has the greatest number of integers in their bucket?  If we sweep even more integers, does the immensity in the bucket remain as immense?
 
And get this:  Did you know that it is believed that the digits of pi contain every possible finite sequence of numbers?  Therefore, somewhere in that vast, immense string of numbers is my social security number {and yours too} and my Citibank Mastercard number {and yours too) -- along with every other possible number. 
 
Yikes – has my morning’s post become a bit too irrational?  Let me refocus. The question at hand involves Dickinson's 1881 letter to Higginson:  Should the lines "All things swept sole away /This – is immensity" be thought of as a stand-alone poem?


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Matters of the Heart

4/17/2026

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Yesterday I shared a poem by Dickinson which greatly impressed – and disturbed – her early editor, Mabel Loomis Todd.  Following the publication and positive reception of the first editions of Dickinson’s works, Todd gave public talks on the poet and her poetry, and in a letter to her co-editor Higginson following a talk to a “Women’s Club” in Springfield, Massachusetts, Todd spoke of conversations she’d had with individuals following her presentation.  She disclosed that “The (poem) most often verbally quoted to me as a favorite is, ‘The heart asks pleasure first.’ Oh how could Emily epitomize life so perfectly and with such bitter force! With hardly a shadow of form, this poem almost breaks my heart; and it seems to appeal to many others similarly.”
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The eight line poem is divided into two four-line stanzas. For the most part, it is a mix of lines of iambic trimeter and iambic tetrameter; syllables progress as 6 – 6 – 8 – 6 / 6 – 6 – 8 – 6 – or 5 syllables in the final line if you pronounce “privilege” as “priv-lij” – i.e., two syllables.  I suppose this construction along with the poem’s line-to-dash ratio (8 lines, 10 dashes) prompted Todd to characterize the work as one with “hardly a shadow of form.”  As for the tenor and message of the lines, I suspect that the they do – especially for many less-than-cheery souls –  “epitomize life so perfectly and with such bitter force.”

Dickinson seems to have been ahead of her time with her premise, though.  It wasn’t until the 1940s that Maslow presented his hierarchy of needs (physiological > safety > love/belonging >  esteem > self-actualization), and it wasn’t until the late 1960s that Kübler-Ross introduced the five stages of grief (denial > anger > bargaining > depression > acceptance).  Perhaps they'd both read Dickinson?  ED’s poem seems to suggest an analogous hierarchy characterized by Pleasure/Joy > Safety > Physiological Care > Sleep/Death.  

Yikes – at the end of line 5, is that “sleep” akin to Hamlet’s supposition, “by a sleep to say we end / The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks / That flesh is heir to”?  Hamlet adds, “'tis a consummation / Devoutly to be wish'd” – which echoes the chord struck in Dickinson’s final line.

The Dickinson-Shakespeare connection is certainly possible as Dickinson loved reading Shakespeare. In a letter to her friend Joseph Lyman in early 1870 she described a time when she was being treated for eye trouble in Cambridge and said this:  “Then I settled down to a willingness for all the rest to go but William Shakespear (sic). Why need we Joseph read anything else but him.”  Evidently, she repeated this language about Shakespeare to Higginson too.  He passed on this anecdote in a letter to his wife sent in August of that same year:  “After long disuse of her eyes she read Shakespeare & thought Why is any other book needed.”

To jumble Dickinson and Shakespeare, is it nobler for the heart to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and to take anodynes against a sea of troubles and drift – toward sleep? 
 
Happily, guidance on all of this appeared out of the blue this morning as I completed my daily crossword puzzle.  The clue for the 15-letter answer read, “Encouragement to a writer who shows an early penchant for rhyme?”
 
The answer:
 
YOUCOULDDOVERSE
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Below:  Other sociological hierarchies developed, I'm sure, from interpretations of Dickinson:
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Off the Cliff  & Off the Cuff

4/16/2026

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When last we met, dear reader, Robert Frost had disclosed three of his favorite poems by Dickinson. Then, in addition to identifying a trio of reviewers’ favorite verses from the first published edition of Dickinson’s poetry, Thomas Wentworth Higginson described one of his favorites as “most exquisite.” Finally, Mabel Loomis Todd gushed over one short work by the Belle of Amherst: “Oh how could Emily epitomize life so perfectly and with such bitter force! With hardly a shadow of form, this poem almost breaks my heart!”  And  Dickinson herself?  Well, she was hanging by her fingertips high above a massive drop in the Rocky Mountains. Quite the cliff hanger, indeed!
​

About which poem was it that Todd rhapsodized so madly?

The answer, my friend, is coming up.  I promise – I will get to it!  First, though, I vowed yesterday that on this very day I would discuss the three poems esteemed by Frost for just a bit, so please stick with me (or – if you simply cannot wait – scroll to the bottom of this post to find out). 
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Here are the three poems – favorites of Frost –  which I shared yesterday:
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POEM THE FIRST:  In “This is the land the sunset washes,” take a look above from left (published in 1890) to right (published in 1998) at the elimination and later reinstatement of Dickinson’s dashes.  Todd and Higginson “cleaned up” Dickinson’s punctuation (and spelling and grammar and rhymes, etc.) to make her poems more palatable for public consumption.  Even Robert Frost, at times, grumbled that “she disdained stanzaic form, rhyme, and meter” (from George Monteiro’s book Robert Frost and the New England Renaissance).  Evidently, horizontal swashes were thought to be too radical at the turn of the twentieth century; however, Dickinson's dashes indicate the measured pace she designed and desired for her works – so dash away, dash away, dash away all!

I will admit, Dickinson’s handwriting is difficult to decipher – especially when differentiating a dash from a cross stroke of a “T.”  Take a look below at Dickinson’s manuscript of the poem.  The two images, left and right, are the same; I just kept a “clean copy” on the left so you could view it without all the markings. On the right, the red circles indicate dashes, and all of them were eliminated by Todd and Higginson.  The blue circles show cross strokes that are separated from their Ts. You’ll note, too, that Todd combined lines 5 and 6 to create an eight-line, two-stanza poem. 
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POEMS THE FIRST AND SECOND:  Once again, look from left to right (1890 to 1998) for “This – is the land – the sunset washes”: Todd changed the final word of the poem, “orioles,” to “fairy sails” so that it would rhyme more perfectly with “opal bales” in line 6.  This poem was also one of fourteen poems selected for publication in an article contributed by T. W. Higginson to the Christian Union, XLII (25 September 1890), and he changed “like Orioles” to “with airy sails.”  I suppose those Victorians just couldn’t tolerate a fine and honorable slant rhyme.

With apologies to Emily Dickinson:


There’s a certain slant of rhyme
With her gnomic poem
That distresses, like the rift
Of using “who” for “whom”


Next, in “The Soul selects her own Society,” Todd published “Obtrude” in line 4 in place of the word “Present,” though I’m not sure why.  Dickinson did list “Obtrude” as a possible alternate on one draft of the poem; however, in another draft – of just the first stanza – she did not include “obtrude” as a viable substitute. I wonder if Todd had both copies in her possession?  (And by the way, Dickinson never used the word “obtrude” in any other poem.)


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With apologies to Gelett Burgess:

I rarely see the word “obtrude”
But don’t care if I see it
Though I suspect I’d come unglued
If used in place of “present”!


(OY!  That was bad!  My apologies to you!)

Oh by the way -- did you notice the addition of the apostrophe in line 5 -- from plural "chariots" to singular possessive, "chariot's"? 
​
POEM THE THIRD:  Back to punctuation: Look at the change Todd and Higginson made to lines 1, 2, and 5 of “Alter! When the Hills do”:  they used question marks after “alter,” “falter,” and “surfeit” in place of exclamation points; Dickinson’s manuscript, though, clearly shows exclamation points.  Why do you think they did that?  I think the change shifts the tone and meaning of the poem.  With the question marks, it’s as if the speaker in the poem is questioning herself.  With the exclamation points, it seems more that someone has demanded the speaker to “alter,” “falter,” and “surfeit” – and she responds defiantly to the absurd notions. What do you think?

Below is Dickinson's manuscript of the poem.  The marks are difficult to see, so I enlarged them on the right.

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Hmm...lets get this a try:  Let's change a few poetic exclamation points to question marks to see what happens:

Still I Rise?  by Maya Angelou

O Captain?  My Captain?   by Walt Whitman

Tyger? Tyger? Burning bright   by William Blake

Oh, the Places You'll Go?   by Doctor Suess

I'm Nobody?  Who are you?   by Emily Dickinson

Now, finally, I am ready to help us off that damn cliff I left us all hanging from at the conclusion of yesterday’s post:  Of which poem did Mabel Loomis Todd say, “Oh how could Emily epitomize life so perfectly and with such bitter force! With hardly a shadow of form, this poem almost breaks my heart!”

That poem is…


A drum roll please…(click HERE for a drum roll)...

“The Heart asks Pleasure – first.” I have posted the poem below, and I will discuss it tomorrow.
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Any initial comments or thoughts on this?
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