Two sentimental giants—Emily Dickinson and Stephen Cole—face off in the Fourth Bracket in more first round action.
BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP FOR DEATH -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 –
The soul of music (and poetry) is time.
Emily Dickinson’s famous poem, like most famous poems, has a temporal subject, which is best for poetry, the temporal art.
Dickinson, whose poetic instincts were extremely well-developed, despite the roughness, the awkwardness, and the melodrama inherent in her work, must have been thrilled when “Because I could not stop for death” fell into her brain.
The iambic rhythm marches forward and even this part is sublime: “Because I could not stop.”
This is what separates the masters from the scribblers. Be CAUSE i COULD not STOP.
The phrase itself is a world—it signifies Emily Dickinson the prolific poet, who cannot stop writing, in terms of meaning, but also in terms of music—Be CAUSE i COULD not STOP.
And then the iambic gets one more foot—Be CAUSE i COULD not STOP for DEATH. “DEATH” finishes the line (of course). (But the poet will not stop for “DEATH.”)
And then, where most poets would give us a scary DEATH—“He suddenly stopped for me?” Dickinson writes, instead, “He kindly stopped for me.” The “Civility” is the civility of poetry—which understands that “to stop” belongs to time, to music—the soul of ingenious verse. Time (movement) continues to dominate the poem: “We passed the Setting Sun -”
Dickinson’s poem is its subject, quite literally.
There is a living poet, writing many poems today, Stephen Cole, who is a genius in the manner of Emily Dickinson—and we can only hope that one day Stephen Cole will be read as widely as she is.
WAITING -Stephen Cole
I believe if She were here
She would tell me
The cold winds are departing.
The message delivered
Thoughtfully,
If only I was listening.
Comfort to the discomfort
With her warming words.
The void filled,
Recognized,
For what it lost,
Otherwise,
It could not be filled.
For Her,
The rules are absent by rules.
She always knows what to say
As only for the proper need,
She construes,
According to sidereal secrets
Of the long, long day.
The genius of Cole’s poem, like “Because I Could Not Stop For Death,” lives within the words of the poem itself, timeless and sublime. It is not, like most poems, a poem “about something,” which forces an emotional recognition in the reader. To some degree, all poems boil down to a piece of life resonating in the reader’s experience.
Some poems, however, like “Waiting,” open up new vistas of sweet pondering.
Dickinson’s “Death” is, “She” in Cole’s poem.
Cole’s poem, “Waiting,” unfolds in our minds as a philosophical event—we are not just “hearing a story.”
As in Dickinson’s poem, a profound causality takes wing.
Instead of “because I could not stop…” we get the pregnant phrase, “I believe if She were here”
And we feel “She” is right, because the sound “are” echoes in “departing” —“the cold winds are departing.”
They are. And it is all the more forceful, because of the poet’s respect, focus, and humility: “I believe if she were here she would tell me”…with her “message delivered thoughtfully…if only I was listening.” (!)
She has given him hope. She is absent. He is crushed, humbled—all this conveyed forcefully in a few lines!
The theme continues as powerfully, and gracefully, as it began:
Comfort to the discomfort
With her warming words.
The void filled,
Recognized,
For what it lost,
Otherwise,
It could not be filled.
How wonderful: “The void filled, recognized, for what it lost”—a void recognized for what it lost (he losing her?) and then “Otherwise it could not be filled.” (!)
A philosopher and a poet, both, this Stephen Cole! And a warm philosopher, not a cold one.
“The rules are absent by rules.” This sums up what has gone before, as philosophy continues to tease out the poetry.
The end of the poem is fantastic. “She” (and we would expect this) owns the “proper need.”
The “long, long day” is both generous and sad—and “sidereal secrets” swings the poem’s movement towards the stars, rather than the sun—“she” is “absent,” but her influence—due to absence (the far stars, invoked by “sidereal”)—is profound.
A simple poem. A humble poem. A remarkable poem.
Are these two poems sentimental?
Cole’s poem has great understated emotion: we feel an exquisite humility in the poem. Humility always suppresses loud, showy, drum-beating emotion—even within a dramatic scene.
Dickinson’s poem does do a better job of presenting a visual scene—the “swelling of the ground” compared to a “house,” for instance.
Is Dickinson personifying death sentimental? Some would say, yes, because it’s a distancing, fanciful, trope to stave off anxiety.
Viewing graves and counting the years is not sentimental, but turning Death into a gentleman, is.
The passage of time, however—death as the imposition of large time (“immortality, eternity”) upon a mortal, who is dead—carries (the carriage?) Dickinson’s poem—the final image is “the horses’ heads were toward eternity.”
Cole invokes the same feeling and idea—and even more mystery—with his “sidereal secrets.” A brilliant stroke.
“Because I Could Not Stop For Death” is accessible and picturesque, one of the most iconic poems ever written.
“Waiting” is a more subtle, brooding masterpiece.
OMG!
Cole wins in an upset!