One of my favorite poems is ' Bring me the sunset in a cup ' by Emily Dickinson . It's one of the finest poems on nature in a very modern style ...unusually beautiful !!
Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning's flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!
Write me how many notes there be
In the new Robin's ecstasy
Among astonished boughs.
How many trips the Tortoise makes
How many cups the Bee partakes,
The Debauchee of Dews!
Also, who laid the Rainbow's piers,
Also, who leads the docile spheres
By withes of supple blue?
Whose fingers string the stalactite
Who counts the wampum of the night
To see that none is due?
Who built this little Alban House
And shut the windows down so close
My spirit cannot see?
Who'll let me out some gala day
With implements to fly away,
Passing Pomposity?
- Emily Dickinson.
This poem is not much discussed, though it is one of the finest poems on nature with many startling phrases.It oscillates between familiarity and obscurity. It's remarkable for it's unconventional treatment of nature.
stanza 1- The very first stanza is noticeable for intensity as the poetess asks for a cup of sunset, and wants the flasks of dew to be opened and counted. Morning 'leaps', as all of a sudden the day brightens up in morning. And creator of this magical world is compared to a weaver bird weaving her nest.
stanza 2- In the second stanza are all those things, that can't be counted. Nature's bliss in it's purest form is portrayed. 'Astonished boughs' stand for trees surprised by the sweet melody of the robin singing out suddenly from them. The bees are madly drinking the dew from the flowers and are drunk with the sweetness.
stanza 3- Poetess wants to know who has created the bridge of the Rainbow? And who bounds the obediently moving spheres in their orbits, by flexible twigs of supple blue in the sky? Who strings together the icicles that form the roofs of caves? And who is it that counts the beaded strings of shells (stars) at night to check if all is in place ?
stanza 4- The questioning continues. Who is it that has created this limited mind and body through the window of which, my spirit can not see clearly? Who will that be who some fine day will let me out ...far far away from the superficialities of this world?
Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning's flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!
Write me how many notes there be
In the new Robin's ecstasy
Among astonished boughs.
How many trips the Tortoise makes
How many cups the Bee partakes,
The Debauchee of Dews!
Also, who laid the Rainbow's piers,
Also, who leads the docile spheres
By withes of supple blue?
Whose fingers string the stalactite
Who counts the wampum of the night
To see that none is due?
Who built this little Alban House
And shut the windows down so close
My spirit cannot see?
Who'll let me out some gala day
With implements to fly away,
Passing Pomposity?
- Emily Dickinson.
This poem is not much discussed, though it is one of the finest poems on nature with many startling phrases.It oscillates between familiarity and obscurity. It's remarkable for it's unconventional treatment of nature.
stanza 1- The very first stanza is noticeable for intensity as the poetess asks for a cup of sunset, and wants the flasks of dew to be opened and counted. Morning 'leaps', as all of a sudden the day brightens up in morning. And creator of this magical world is compared to a weaver bird weaving her nest.
stanza 2- In the second stanza are all those things, that can't be counted. Nature's bliss in it's purest form is portrayed. 'Astonished boughs' stand for trees surprised by the sweet melody of the robin singing out suddenly from them. The bees are madly drinking the dew from the flowers and are drunk with the sweetness.
stanza 3- Poetess wants to know who has created the bridge of the Rainbow? And who bounds the obediently moving spheres in their orbits, by flexible twigs of supple blue in the sky? Who strings together the icicles that form the roofs of caves? And who is it that counts the beaded strings of shells (stars) at night to check if all is in place ?
stanza 4- The questioning continues. Who is it that has created this limited mind and body through the window of which, my spirit can not see clearly? Who will that be who some fine day will let me out ...far far away from the superficialities of this world?
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this beautiful poem. I just happened to stumble upon it.
ReplyDeletelove love this poem. thank you for sharing the song. where did you find it?
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem... enjoyed reading it ;)
ReplyDelete