Emily Dickinson - A Quiet Passion

Emily Dickinson is considered among the greatest poets in English literature. She is known for her unusual use of form and syntax; and for being “The poet of paradox”. Dickinson was a prolific writer and created nearly 1800 poems but only a handful of them were published during her lifetime.

Movie Quotes by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.

This is my letter to the world that never wrote to me.The heart asks pleasure first and then excuse from pain.

We deceive ourselves and then others.

Poems are my solace for the eternity which surrounds us all.

If I can't have equality, then I want nothing of love.

Emily Dickinson: How can you go on loving me?

Vinnie Dickinson: You are so easy to love.

Clarity is one thing; obviousness is quite another.

Movie Review

Neither quiet nor passion

by Howard Schumann

October 29, 2016

The great American poet Emily Dickinson wrote:

"Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality."

Whether or not Dickinson stopped for life, it kindly stopped for her and her immortality is enshrined in the legacy of the 1800 exquisite poems she left, only ten of which were published during her lifetime. She did not leave any commentaries to interpret her work, but left them for us to understand and explain. One interpretation of her life and work is provided by Terence Davies in his film, A Quiet Passion, a sympathetic but overwritten and curiously wooden look at her life and the influences that shaped her art. Starring Cynthia Nixon ("The Adderall Diaries") as Emily, Davies traces Dickinson's life in a standard linear format. Raised in the Puritan New England city of Amherst, Massachusetts (the film is shot near Antwerp, Belgium) the poet was lonely and secretive throughout her life, seldom left home, and visitors were few.

She stayed with her family all of her life, living through births, marriages, and deaths but always setting aside the early morning hours in her study to compose. Bright and outgoing as a young woman, Emily is portrayed as becoming more isolated, and bitter as she grows older. Her only companions were her austere and unforgiving father, Edward (Keith Carradine, "Ain't Them Bodies Saints"), a one-term Congressman, her haughty brother, Austin (Duncan Duff, "Island"), who became an attorney and lived next door with his wife Susan Gilbert (Johdi May, "Ginger and Rosa"), and her younger sister, Lavinia (Jennifer Ehle, "Little Men") who was her greatest solace. As the film opens, Emily is tagged as an outsider almost immediately. As a young student (Emma Bell, "See You in Valhalla") at the Mount Holyoke women's seminary, she stands up to the governess by declaring that she does not want either to be saved by divine Providence or forgotten by it and also speaks out for feminism, women's rights and abolitionism.

Her willingness to challenge conventional thinking by dismissing Longfellow's poem "The Song of Hiawatha" as "gruel," and her support for the poorly-regarded Bronte sisters was not appreciated by her family. "If they wanted to be wholesome," she retorted, "I imagine they would crochet." As Davies cleverly morphs the faces of Emily and her well-to-do family from children into adults, a clearer picture emerges of her relationship with her strict father and reserved mother (Joanna Bacon, "Love Actually"). Her only refuge from family conflicts and disappointments was her intimate relationship with Vinnie, the companionship of her best friend Vryling Buffam (Catherine Bailey, "The Grind"), and the sermons of Reverend Wadsworth (Eric Loren, "Red Lights"). Irreverent and provocative, Emily, Vinnie, and Vryling are shown walking through the gardens, exchanging witty aphorisms while they twirl their parasols, but the element of artifice is overbearing.

We do not see Emily in the process of composition but listen to her poems read aloud in voice-over. They are the highlight of the film, but there are not enough of them and too much time is spent on Emily's sad physical deterioration as she confronts the debilitating Bright's disease. In this regard, there is no subtlety in the film's presentation as the camera unnecessarily lingers over Emily's shaking fits for an inordinate length of time and her last days are an endurance test for the audience. In spite of the family's strong religious approach to life, there is no reflection about her life and legacy or talk about life's meaning and purpose.

Though Emily Dickinson's poetry glimmers with a spiritual glow, the uniqueness of who she is does not fully come across. For all of its fine performances and moments of comic satire, A Quiet Passion is dramatically inert, and its stilted and mannered dialogue is an emotional straitjacket with each character talking to the other as if they were reading a book of aphorisms. Terence Davies has directed some memorable period films in his career such as his remarkable adaptation of Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth. A Quiet Passion, however, has neither quiet nor passion. Gratitude must be offered, however, to Davies for introducing the poems of Emily Dickinson to a wider audience. Thanks Terence and thanks Emily.

You left me – Sire – two Legacies – (#713)

by Emily Dickinson

You left me – Sire – two Legacies – 

A Legacy of Love

A Heavenly Father would suffice

Had He the offer of –

You left me Boundaries of Pain –

Capacious as the Sea –

Between Eternity and Time –

Your Consciousness – and me –

Poems by Emily Dickinson

And with what body do they come (#10)

by Emily Dickinson

'And with what body do they come?' -

Then they do come - Rejoice!

What Door - What Hour - Run - run - My Soul!

Illuminate the House!

'Body!' Then real - a Face and Eyes -

To know that it is them!

Paul knew the Man that knew the News -

He passed through Bethlehem -

My Cocoon Tightens, Colors Tease (#17)

by Emily Dickinson

MY cocoon tightens, colors tease,

I 'm feeling for the air;

A dim capacity for wings

Degrades the dress I wear.

A power of butterfly must be

The aptitude to fly,

Meadows of majesty concedes

And easy sweeps of sky.

So I must baffle at the hint

And cipher at the sign,

And make much blunder, if at last

I take the clew divine.

For Each Ecstatic Instant (#37)

by Emily Dickinson

FOR each ecstatic instant

We must an anguish pay

In keen and quivering ratio

To the ecstasy.

For each beloved hour

Sharp pittances of years,

Bitter contested farthings

And coffers heaped with tears.

Success Is Counted Sweetest (#67)

by Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest

By those who ne’er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host

Who took the Flag today

Can tell the definition

So clear of victory

As he defeated – dying –

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Burst agonized and clear!

Note: In this poem Dickinson uses the image of a victorious army and of a defeated soldier who is dying. Through this image she conveys that success can be understood best by those who have suffered defeat. The popularity of the poem lies in the fact that unlike some of her other poems which talk about losing in romance, ‘Success Is Counted Sweetest’ “can be applied to any situation where there are winners and losers.” - Learnodo Newtonic

Declaiming Waters None May Dread (#126)

by Emily Dickinson

Declaiming Waters none may dread -

But Waters that are still

Are so for that most fatal cause

In Nature - they are full -

On that dear Frame the Years had worn (#135)

by Emily Dickinson

On that dear Frame the Years had worn

Yet precious as the House

In which We first experienced Light

The Witnessing, to Us—

Precious! It was conceiveless fair

As Hands the Grave had grimed

Should softly place within our own

Denying that they died.

“Faith” is a fine invention (#185)

by Emily Dickinson

“Faith” is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!

Notes: An often quoted poem, ‘”Faith” is a fine invention’ gives insight on Dickinson’s views on religion and science. While calling faith an invention and putting it in quotation marks suggests that the poem is pro science yet the ability for only some to ‘see’, or possess a kind a divine power, contradicts that. No wonder Dickinson is famous as the “The poet of paradox”. She goes on to add that it is wiser to use ‘microscopes’, or science, in an emergency. - Learnodo Newtonic

Wild nights – Wild nights! (#249)

by Emily Dickinson

Wild nights – Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –

To a Heart in port –

Done with the Compass –

Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –

Ah – the Sea!

Might I but moor – tonight –

In thee!

Note: 'Wild nights – Wild nights!’ is widely discussed for its implications. It doesn’t tell a story but is an expression of wish or desire. Dickinson uses the sea as an image for passion. It remains one of the most popular romantic poems written by an American. - Learnodo Newtonic

Hope is the Thing with Feathers (#254)

by Emily Dickinson

"Hope" is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

Note: The most famous poem by Dickinson, “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” is ranked among the greatest poems in the English language. It metaphorically describes hope as a bird that rests in the soul, sings continuously and never demands anything even in the direst circumstances. - Learnodo Newtonic

I’m nobody! Who are you? (#288)

by Emily Dickinson

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Are you — Nobody — Too?

Then there’s a pair of us!

Don’t tell! They’d banish us — you know!

How dreary — to be — Somebody!

How public — like a Frog —

To tell one’s name — the livelong June —

To an admiring Bog!

Note: In this poem the narrator considers that being nobody is a luxury and it is depressingly repetitive to be somebody, who like a frog has a compulsion to croak all the time. The most talked about detail of Dickinson’s life is perhaps that only 10 of her nearly 1800 works were published during her lifetime and she lived her life in anonymity. This and the fact that the poem is about the popular subject of “us against them” makes it one of the most famous poems written by Dickinson. - Learnodo Newtonic

So From The Mould (#335)

by Emily Dickinson

So from the mould

Scarlet and Gold

Many a Bulb will rise—

Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious eyes.

So from Cocoon

Many a Worm

Leap so Highland gay,

Peasants like me,

Peasants like Thee

Gaze perplexedly!

Much Madness is divinest Sense (#435)

by Emily Dickinson

Much Madness is divinest Sense –
To a discerning Eye –
Much Sense – the starkest Madness –
‘Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail –
Assent – and you are sane –
Demur – you’re straightway dangerous –
And handled with a Chain –

Note: "Much Madness" begins with a paradoxical line which equates madness to divine sense. Dickinson talks about the insane society which treats individuality as madness. If you agree with the majority you are sane but if you raise objections you are considered dangerous and need to be controlled. The madness versus sanity theme of the poem can also be interpreted in various other ways adding to the popularity of the poem.- Learnodo Newtonic

The Murmur of a Bee (#443)

by Emily Dickinson

The Murmur of a Bee

A Witchcraft—yieldeth me—

If any ask me why—

'Twere easier to die—

Than tell—

The Red upon the Hill

Taketh away my will—

If anybody sneer—

Take care—for God is here—

That's all.

The Breaking of the Day

Addeth to my Degree—

If any ask me how—

Artist—who drew me so—

Must tell!

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died (#465)

by Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –

The Stillness in the Room

Was like the Stillness in the Air –

Between the Heaves of Storm –

The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –

And Breaths were gathering firm

For that last Onset – when the King

Be witnessed – in the Room –

I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away

What portion of me be

Assignable – and then it was

There interposed a Fly –

With Blue – uncertain – stumbling Buzz –

Between the light – and me –

And then the Windows failed – and then

I could not see to see –

Note: In “I heard a Fly buzz” the narrator is on his or her deathbed in a still room surrounded by loved ones. Everyone is awaiting the arrival of the ‘King’. The figure of death appears as a tiny, often disregarded, fly with a ‘stumbling Buzz’. It comes between the narrator and light and then the narrator ‘could not see to see’ or is dead. The poem remains one of Dickinson’s most discussed and famous works. - Learnodo Newtonic

Because I could not stop for Death (#479)

by Emily Dickinson

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 –

My Portion is Defeat - Today (#601)

by Emily Dickinson

My Portion is Defeat—today—

A paler luck than Victory—

Less Paeans—fewer Bells—

The Drums don't follow Me—with tunes—

Defeat—a somewhat slower—means—

More Arduous than Balls—

'Tis populous with Bone and stain—

And Men too straight to stoop again—,

And Piles of solid Moan—

And Chips of Blank—in Boyish Eyes—

And scraps of Prayer—

And Death's surprise,

Stamped visible—in Stone—

There's somewhat prouder, over there—

The Trumpets tell it to the Air—

How different Victory

To Him who has it—and the One

Who to have had it, would have been

Contender—to die—

Knows How to Forget! (#620)

by Emily Dickinson

Knows how to forget!

But could It teach it?

Easiest of Arts, they say

When one learn how

Dull Hearts have died

In the Acquisition

Sacrificed for Science

Is common, though, now—

I went to School

But was not wiser

Globe did not teach it

Nor Logarithm Show

"How to forget"!

Say—some—Philosopher!

Ah, to be erudite

Enough to know!

Is it in a Book?

So, I could buy it—

Is it like a Planet?

Telescopes would know—

If it be invention

It must have a Patent.

Rabbi of the Wise Book

Don't you know?

I Tend My Flowers for Thee (#622)

by Emily Dickinson

I tend my flowers for thee—

Bright Absentee!

My Fuchsia's Coral Seams

Rip—while the Sower—dreams—

Geraniums— tint—and spot—

Low Daisies—dot—

My Cactus—splits her Beard

To show her throat—

Carnations—tip their spice—

And Bees—pick up—

A Hyacinth—I hid—

Puts out a Ruffled Head—

And odors fall

From flasks—so small—

You marvel how they held—

Globe Roses—break their satin glake—

Upon my Garden floor—

Yet—thou—not there—

I had as lief they bore

No Crimson—more—

Thy flower—be gay—

Her Lord—away!

It ill becometh me—

I'll dwell in Calyx—Gray—

How modestly—alway—

Thy Daisy—

Draped for thee!

'Tis Good - the Looking Back On Grief (#660)

by Emily Dickinson

'Tis good—the looking back on Grief—

To re-endure a Day—

We thought the Mighty Funeral—

Of All Conceived Joy—

To recollect how Busy Grass

Did meddle—one by one—

Till all the Grief with Summer—waved

And none could see the stone.

And though the Woe you have Today

Be larger—As the Sea

Exceeds its Unremembered Drop—

They're Water—equally—

Because I Could Not Stop For Death (#712)

by Emily Dickinson

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 –

Note: Many of Dickinson’s poems deal with the themes of death and immortality; and this is the most famous of them all. In it Emily personifies death as a gentle guide who takes a leisurely carriage ride with the poet to her grave. According to prominent American poet Allen Tate, “If the word great means anything in poetry, this poem is one of the greatest in the English language; it is flawless to the last detail.” - Learnodo Newtonic

If I can stop one Heart from breaking (#919)

by Emily Dickinson

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

Note: This simple and often quoted poem by Dickinson talks about the deeds one can do which will insure that one’s life was not is vain. - Learnodo Newtonic

Tell all the truth but tell it slant (#1129)

by Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth’s superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind —

Note: In this poem Dickinson presents truth as a powerful entity whose dazzling brilliance can bring this world to an end. Hence she suggests that it would be wise to tell the truth but ‘tell it slant’ and to gradually ease it into the world. - Learnodo Newtonic

A Word made Flesh is seldom (#1715)

by Emily Dickinson

A Word made Flesh is seldom

And tremblingly partook

Nor then perhaps reported

But have I not mistook

Each one of us has tasted

With ecstasies of stealth

The very food debated

To our specific strength --

A Word that breathes distinctly

Has not the power to die

Cohesive as the Spirit

It may expire if He --

"Made Flesh and dwelt among us"

Could condescension be

Like this consent of Language

This loved Philology.

Cynthia Nixon plays Emily Dickinson in Terence Davies' new film A Quiet Passion. "I think she was afraid of life," Davies says. "Like a lot of geniuses, she had — skin missing. And that makes you very, very vulnerable." | Johan Voets/Hurricane Films/Courtesy of Music Box Films

New Film Celebrates Emily Dickinson's Poetry

And 'Quiet Passion'

http://www.npr.org/2017/04/13/523799211/new-film-celebrates-emily-dickinsons-poetry-and-quiet-passion

by Lynn Neary

April 13, 2017

Many people are drawn to Emily Dickinson because of her mysterious life — the brilliant poet rarely left her family home in Amherst, Mass., and her work wasn't recognized until after her death.

But British film director Terence Davies says it was her poetry, more than her personal life, that drew him in. Davies discovered Dickinson on television. An actress was reading one of her poems and afterwards Davies immediately ran out to buy one of her collections.

"What moves me about all the poems I've read is everything is distilled down to the bare essential," Davies explains. "But it's the very reticence of that that makes it desperately, desperately moving."

His new film, A Quiet Passion, stars Cynthia Nixon as Dickinson. The movie creates an image of a complicated woman whose poetry is steeped in pain.

In the film Davies uses Dickinson's poetry as a kind of commentary on her life. In the opening scene, Dickinson is severely chastised by the headmistress of her school because she refuses to say she wants to be Christian. Dickinson is dismissed as a "no hoper." As the scene ends she stands alone by a window as Nixon reads one of her poems:

For each ecstatic instant

We must an anguish pay

In keen and quivering ratio

To the ecstasy.

For each beloved hour

Sharp pittances of years,

Bitter contested farthings

And coffers heaped with tears.

Much of A Quiet Passion focuses on Dickinson's spiritual struggles. Davies says he identified with her because he also went through a spiritual crisis in his youth.

Emily Dickinson had a "green thumb"

"From 15 to 22 there was seven years of doubt and I really, really prayed for God to reveal himself, and of course he didn't," he recalls. "So I know what that is like. Faced with mortality, what do we do with this thing we call the soul?"

In the film, Dickinson's refusal to compromise her beliefs often puts her at odds with the conservative religious beliefs of her family and friends. In one scene, she refuses to kneel when a visiting minister leads her family in prayer. Her disobedience infuriates her father.

"My soul is my own," she tells him.

"Your soul is God's!" he replies.

The American Poet, Emily Dickinson

Dickinson had a few close relationships but is heartbroken when friends leave her. The only man she is attracted to is already married. He appreciates her poetry but few others do. She withdraws into her family home, sheltering herself from a world she doesn't really understand.

"To interpret the world you have to be an observer of it," Davies says. "What being an observer does, it puts you on the outside of life. You're never really part of it and life seems almost incomprehensible. How do other people manage their way through the world?"

Dickinson's reclusive life has been always been a source of fascination for artists.

"There's a kind of mystery around Dickinson and where mystery is, stories bloom," says Brenda Wineapple, author of White Heat, about Dickinson's friendship with a well-known abolitionist. Wineapple sees Dickinson as a strong, witty woman who did have lasting friendships. She says Davies has created a Dickinson whose radical life choices cost her a great deal.

"Over time she becomes caustic and angry and disappointed, which is not necessarily how people, particularly in the recent past, have imagined Emily Dickinson," Wineapple says.

But Davies says of course Dickinson was angry — she wanted to be loved and she wanted her work recognized even though she chose to live as a recluse.

"In the end that haven becomes a prison," he says. "It's sort of an emotional prison she can't get away from. That's very sad and very hard to bear, I think."

A Quiet Passion ends with Dickinson's death, before the hundreds of poems that would make her famous, were discovered.

---

For Further Reading:

Billy Collins: A Poet's Affection For Emily Dickinson

Biography Speculates Emily Dickinson Had Epilepsy

Elizabeth Akers Allen - Rock Me to Sleep

Rock Me to Sleep

by Elizabeth Akers Allen

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,

Make me a child again just for tonight!

Mother, come back from the echoless shore,

Take me again to your heart as of yore;

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,

Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;

Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; -

Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!

I am so weary of toil and of tears, -

Toil without recompense, tears all in vain, -

Take them, and give me my childhood again!

I have grown weary of dust and decay, -

Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;

Weary of sowing for others to reap; -

Rock me to sleep, mother - rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,

Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!

Many a summer the grass has grown green,

Blossomed and faded, our faces between:

Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,

Long I tonight for your presence again.

Come from the silence so long and so deep; -

Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,

No love like mother-love ever has shone;

No other worship abides and endures, -

Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:

None like a mother can charm away pain

From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.

Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep; -

Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,

Fall on your shoulders again as of old;

Let it drop over my forehead tonight,

Shading my faint eyes away from the light;

For with its sunny-edged shadows once more

Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;

Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep; -

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long

Since I last listened your lullaby song:

Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem

Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.

Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,

With your light lashes just sweeping my face,

Never hereafter to wake or to weep; -

Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Elizabeth Akers Allen

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Elizabeth Anne (Chase) Akers Allen (October 9, 1832 – August 7, 1911), initially writing as Florence Percy and Elizabeth Akers, was an American poet and journalist.

Writing career

She was born Elizabeth Anne Chase in 1832 in Strong, Maine. Her mother died when she was an infant, and her father moved the family to Farmington, where she attended Farmington Academy.

Her earliest poems are said to have been published when she was between 12 and 15 years old, under the pen name 'Florence Percy'. In 1855, using this pseudonym, she published her first book of poetry, Forest Buds from the Woods of Maine. She started contributing poems to the Atlantic Monthly in 1858. In 1866, she published her second collection, Poems, under the name of Elizabeth Akers. All subsequent volumes were published under the name Elizabeth Akers Allen.

For much of her career, Allen earned her living partly as a journalist. The success of her first book allowed her to travel in Europe in 1859–60. While in Europe she served as a correspondent for the Portland Transcript and the Boston Evening Gazette. In 1874, she moved to Portland, Maine, where she spent seven years as the literary editor of the Daily Advertiser. She was a member of the professional women's club Sorosis, which had many writer members.

Allen is best known for the first couplet of her sentimental poem "Rock Me to Sleep, Mother" (1859), which was written during her European sojourn and first published in the Saturday Evening Post of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Though it is not considered her finest work, it was very popular during the Civil War, and for some years she was forced to dispute its authorship with a number of claimants. The first couplet runs:

Backward, turn backward, O time, in thy flight;
Make me a child again, just for to-night.

During the Civil War, in 1863, Allen had an appointment as a government clerk in the War Office in Washington, D.C., and also worked as a nurse.

She move to Tuckahoe, New York in 1881 and died there in 1911.

Her papers are held by Colby College.

Personal life

In 1851 she married Marshall S. M. Taylor, but he abandoned her and their infant daughter and they were divorced in 1857.

She married Paul Akers, a Maine sculptor whom she had met in Rome, in 1860; he died of tuberculosis in 1861. Their only child died shortly afterwards.

In 1865 or 1866 she married Elijah M. Allen and they lived in Richmond, Virginia, and Ridgewood, New Jersey, before settling in New York.

Selected publications

• Forest Buds from the Woods of Maine (1855, as Florence Percy)
• Poems (1866, as Elizabeth Akers)
• Queen Catharine's Rose (1885)
• The Silver Bridge, and Other Poems (1885)
• Two Saints (1888)
• The High-Top Sweeting, and Other Poems (1891)
• The Proud Lady of Stavoven (1897)
• The Ballad of the Bronx (1901)
• The Sunset Song, and Other Verses (1902)

R.E. Slater - Anguish

Anguish

by R.E. Slater

I

Two guests arrive at a wedding, one invited and one not...

A delivery driver pulls into a parking lot to decide whether to quit or continue his route...

A young mother picks up her kids from school returning home remembering all the dreams

she once dreamt as a youth...

A ballerina dances gracefully across the stage wondering if fulfillment meant more than this…

An older pastor, now retired, thinks back to his school days wondering if he heard God's call

aright or simply his own self urging forward...

A college student sits in class wondering if his lessons enlighten so much as persuade...

Two sisters lead happy lives but neither are happy within....

II

Two streams diverged in a woods - one to wander through the bramble and hillocks,

the other to grow wider, deeper; which were the more successful?

If fate chooses fortune, or fortune fate, what chooses the other to do the choosing?

If wonderment is stillborn can awe ever follow?

Where do dreams go if they die within?

If evil brought good how can good succeed against such horror?

If life wrought ruin is life better lived unloved or unlived?

Can anguish be escaped or does it define who we are?

III

If all choices never were choices but momentary streams wresting apart could one ever

be sure which stream to follow?

If old age brought wisdom can youth have none without experience or regrets?

If regrets pile up one upon another can its force be overturned?

Can the eye that guides the heart serve the heart if betraying itself?

Where can peace be found if peace can nowhere be found but within?

Were enlightenment all one thing gathered together could it ever be known?

Two guests arrived at a wedding - who then was invited if no wedding was held?

R.E. Slater

May 7, 2017

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Catawba Wine

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Catawba Wine

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1907-1882)

*Written on the receipt of a gift of Catawba wine

from the vineyards of Nicholas Longworth on the Ohio River.

    This song of mine
    Is a Song of the Vine,
To be sung by the glowing embers
    Of wayside inns,
    When the rain begins
To darken the drear Novembers. 

    It is not a song
    Of the Scuppernong,
From warm Carolinian valleys,
    Nor the Isabel
    And the Muscadel
That bask in our garden alleys. 

    Nor the red Mustang,
    Whose clusters hang
O'er the waves of the Colorado,
    And the fiery flood
    Of whose purple blood
Has a dash of Spanish bravado. 

    For richest and best
    Is the wine of the West,
That grows by the Beautiful River;
    Whose sweet perfume
    Fills all the room
With a benison on the giver. 

    And as hollow trees
    Are the haunts of bees,
Forever going and coming;
    So this crystal hive
    Is all alive
With a swarming and buzzing and humming. 

    Very good in its way
    Is the Verzenay,
Or the Sillery soft and creamy;
    But Catawba wine
    Has a taste more divine,
More dulcet, delicious, and dreamy. 

    There grows no vine
    By the haunted Rhine,
By Danube or Guadalquivir,
    Nor on island or cape,
    That bears such a grape
As grows by the Beautiful River. 

    Drugged is their juice
    For foreign use,
When shipped o'er the reeling Atlantic,
    To rack our brains
    With the fever pains,
That have driven the Old World frantic. 

    To the sewers and sinks
    With all such drinks,
And after them tumble the mixer;
    For a poison malign
    Is such Borgia wine,
Or at best but a Devil's Elixir. 

    While pure as a spring
    Is the wine I sing,
And to praise it, one needs but name it;
    For Catawba wine
    Has need of no sign,
No tavern-bush to proclaim it. 

    And this Song of the Vine,
    This greeting of mine,
The winds and the birds shall deliver
    To the Queen of the West,
    In her garlands dressed,
On the banks of the Beautiful River.

Catawba Wine by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Cincinnati, Ohio, Fountain Square - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow verse on wall nearby

Setting

Cincinnati Museum Center

http://library.cincymuseum.org/cincifaq.htm

How Did Cincinnati Come to be Known as the Queen City?

During the first forty years after its founding, Cincinnati experienced spectacular growth. By 1820, citizens, extremely proud of their city, were referring to it as The Queen City or The Queen of the West.

On May 4, 1819, Ed. B. Cooke wrote in the Inquisitor and Cincinnati Advertiser, "The City is, indeed, justly styled the fair Queen of the West: distinquished for order, enterprise, public spirit, and liberality, she stands the wonder of an admiring world."

In 1854, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote his poem, Catawba Wine, to memorialize the city's vineyards, especially those of Nicholas Longworth. The last stanza of the poem reads:

And this Song of the Vine,

This greeting of mine,
The winds and the birds shall deliver,
To the Queen of the West,
In her garlands dressed,
On the banks of the Beautiful River.

Introduction

http://host31.spidergraphics.com/jos/doc/Ode_to_Catawba_-_Short_Version.pdf

Nicolas Longworth was a self-made millionaire and attorney who had an avid interest in horticulture. Beginning as early as 1813, he started vineyards along the banks of the Ohio River, hiring German immigrants whose homeland work was similar. He first began with a grape called “Alexander”, but found that it was only palatable as a fortified wine. He also planted “Catawba” vines and made a table wine which met with some success with the German immigrants in the area. An accidental discovery in the 1840’a led him to produce, with the later help of instruction from French winemakers on the “methode champenoise”, a sparkling Catawba wine – which met with great success both locally and on the East Coast. By the 1850’s, Longworth was producing 100,000 bottles of sparkling Catawba a year and advertising nationally. In the mid-1850’s he sent a case to poet, Henry Longfellow, then living in New York City, who wrote this ode. Remember, when Longfellow refers to the “Beautiful River”, he is referring to the Ohio River, which begins in Pittsburgh and passes through Cincinnati and Louisville, Kentucky on its way to Mississippi.

Catawba (grape)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Catawba is a red American grape variety used for wine as well as juice, jams and jellies. The grape can have a pronounced musky or "foxy" flavor. Grown predominantly on the East Coast of the United States, this purplish-red grape is a likely cross of the Native American Vitis labrusca and Vitis vinifera. Its exact origins and parentage are unclear but it seems to have originated somewhere on the East coast from the Carolinas to Maryland.

Catawba played an important role in the early history of American wine. During the early to mid-19th century, it was the most widely planted grape variety in the country and was the grape behind Nicholas Longworth's acclaimed Ohio sparkling wines that were distributed as far away as California and Europe.

Catawba is a late-ripening variety, ripening often weeks after many other labrusca varieties and, like many vinifera varieties, it can be susceptible to fungal grape diseases such as powdery mildew.