Happy Turkey Day, one and all. Did Dickinson ever use the word “turkey” in any of her poems? Nope (though she did use the word “Thanksgiving” in two poems). So, if no turkeys – what about swans? Dickinson used the word “swan” in two different poems – and in one of her five variations of “It sifts from Leaden Sieves.” Why take a look at swans? Well, this all started a few days ago when I explored the two poems by Dickinson which use the word “titanic” (HERE). I started discussing one of those two poems yesterday, “I think I was enchanted.” Yesterday, I discussed the “Foreign Lady” in line 3 (HERE), thought to be one of Dickinson’s favorite poets, Elizabeth Barrett Browning,” a writer who made the Dark feel beautiful (line 4) – “And whether it was noon at night / Or only Heaven – at Noon” (lines 5 and 6 in the second stanza). The swans show up in the third stanza: The power and enchantment of poetry can transform bees into butterflies, and then butterflies into swans. Sooo…swans? Why swans? |
“A swan has often been seen as a symbol of wisdom and includes awakening the power of self, balance, grace, inner beauty, innocence, self-esteem, seeing into the future, understanding spiritual, evolution, developing intuitive abilities, grace in dealing with others and commitment.”
And this:
“In literature and myth, the swan symbolizes light, purity, transformation, intuition, grace. In Ancient Greece the swan stood for the soul and was linked to Apollo, the god of the Sun, whereas in other religions, the swan became a feminine symbol of the moon.”
Coincidentally, swans came up in the dialogue of two episodes of a couple of sitcom re-runs I watched recently. One was from Episode 4 of Season1 of The Simpsons, “There’s No Disgrace Like Home”; the other was from Episode 7 of Season 7 of “Frasier,” “A Tsar is Born.”
THE SIMPSONS Season 1, Episode 4: There's No Disgrace Like Home The Simpsons go to family therapy after an embarrassing incident at the power plant's company picnic on the grounds of Mr. Burns' estate. Homer: Now remember, as far as anyone knows, we’re a nice, normal family. Lisa: Hey, Bart, last one in the fountain’s a rotten egg! Bart: Hey! Homer: D’oh! Be normal! Be normal! Marge: What an adorable little girl. Woman: (chuckles) Thank you. Why don’t we dump them in the nursery and get a glass of punch? Marge: Oh, I’m not much of a drinker. Woman: Hey, isn’t that your boy there torturing the swans? (squawking) Homer: Bart! | FRASIER Season 7, Episode 7: A Tsar is Born After appearing on "The Antiques Roadshow" where a family heirloom is linked to the Romanoffs, Frasier and Niles giddily assume they are descended from royalty. Frasier: Oh, Dad. Niles just reminded me of something I completely forgot. When the appraiser mentioned that the bear was from Russia... Martin: Oh, yeah. Well, it probably got passed down through your great-great grandmother. She was from Russia. Frasier: A-ha, he said something about the Romanov family? Martin: Oh, yeah, that, eh? Are you sure you want to hear about this? Niles: [no question] Yes, Dad. Martin: Well, I guess you would have found out anyway after I died... We're royalty. Frasier and Niles are ecstatic. Martin: But I didn't want you to grow up spoiled, so I abdicated and took a job in Seattle on the police force. It was kinda hard giving up that royal way of life, but I think maybe it's the swans that I miss most. |
Book 1: I, a little child, would crouch For hours upon the floor with knees drawn up, And gaze across them, half in terror, half In adoration, at the picture there,-- That swan-like supernatural white life Just sailing upward from the red stiff silk Which seemed to have no part in it nor power To keep it from quite breaking out of bounds. Book 4: (You poets are benighted in this age, The hour's too late for catching even moths, You've gnats instead), love!—love's fool-paradise Is out of date, like Adam's. Set a swan To swim the Trenton, rather than true love To float its fabulous plumage safely down The cataracts of this loud transition-time,-- Whose roar for ever henceforth in my ears Must keep me deaf to music." | Book 5: In the ducal reservoir she calls her line By no means arrogantly? she's not proud; Not prouder than the swan is of the lake He has always swum in;—'tis her element Round glittering arms, plunged elbow-deep in suds, Like wild swans hid in lilies all a-shake. Book 6: The city swims in verdure, beautiful As Venice on the waters, the sea-swan. What bosky gardens dropped in close-walled courts Like plums in ladies' laps who start and laugh |