From: LouisFors <LouisFors@aol.com>
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Date: Thu, 2 Apr 1998 20:39:11 EST
To: emweb@fmgmt.mgmt.utoronto.ca
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Subject: "Odd intergrowth of heathen/And New England Puritan"
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Dear Friends:

I want to share a poem with emwebbers who, like me, are amateurs in their
quest toward the blaze that was ED.  (Old pros are welcome too, but I won't
offend you by assuming this is new to you.)  In 1895 a man named J. William
Lloyd wrote in his _Wind-Harp Songs_ a poem about Dickinson.  He's an astute
and swinging guy:

                               Emily Dickinson

                  It seems to me you sing a song
                  That startled every one;
                  Odd intergrowth of heathen
                  And New England Puritan.

                  Your art is liked a Japanesque;--
                   Perspective and detail
                   Are very independent,
                   But the picture pleases well.

                   Suppose a Quaker wood-bird
                   To throw a parrot wing,
                   Talk Manx and Hindostanee,
                    And then go back and sing

                    Weird bits and beautiful
                    A Concord touch or two,
                    Lyric thought, so stated
                    As no one else dare do. 

I've been hopping about in my reading about ED.  Most recently I've read Klaus
Lubbers' _Emily Dickinson:  The Critical Revolution_, a book that rounds up
Dickinson criticism from the beginning to the early 1960s.  This poem, and
very many other tibits expressing affection or hatred of ED are in the book.
Particularly caustic was a Scot--Andrew Lang--who tore into ED.  Writing about
what is now # 99 (Johnson), here's a sample of Lang:  "What in the world has a
troubadour to do in New England?  And why did he climb a tree?  Or was he a
bird?  And how can solitude be betrayed by a troubadour, somewhere near
Boston, in the foliage of an elm?"  Pretty literal, huh? Sounds today like a
comedy routine.

# 99

New feet within my garden go--
New fingers stir the sod--
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green --
New Weary sleep below --
And still the pensive Spring returns --
And still the punctual snow!

Are there other gems, pro or con, about ED, particularly in the early years?

best to all,

Louis Forsdale