ONE of the ones that Midas touched,
Who failed to touch us all,
Was that confiding prodigal,
The blissful oriole.
So drunk, he disavows it
With badinage divine;
So dazzling, we mistake him
For an alighting mine.
A pleader, a dissembler,
An epicure, a thief,—
Betimes an oratorio,
An ecstasy in chief;
The Jesuit of orchards,
He cheats as he enchants
Of an entire attar
For his decamping wants.
The splendor of a Burmah,
The meteor of birds,
Departing like a pageant
Of ballads and of bards.
I never thought that Jason sought
For any golden fleece;
But then I am a rural man,
With thoughts that make for peace.~Emily dickinson
But if there were a Jason,
Tradition suffer me
Behold his lost emolument
Upon the apple-tree.
There is a lot happening in this poem–so much that I don’t know where to begin. I chose it to follow up yesterday’s oriole poem–it seemed like a good idea at the time. But I don’t know what to do with this one. It’s crammed with classical allusions, bizarre and gorgeous metaphors and similes, maybe a zing aimed at Jesuits, and Emily writing as a “rural man.”
Did Midas touch the oriole? Is it Midas or the oriole who failed to touch us all? What the heck is “an alighting mine”? “The meteor of birds,/Departing like a pageant” is a shimmeringly lovely description. But then what’s up with the golden fleece business, and what does that have to do with being “a rural man,/With thoughts that make for peace?” And the word “emolument” is one I can’t read without a certain modern cringing at current events.
I think she’s saying that the oriole’s music is like gold, but that’s about all I’ve got. I wonder if Dickinson is throwing words at paper in a sort of poetic stream of consciousness and seeing what sticks. I like the poem, but I don’t know exactly what to make of it. What do you think?
The Emily Project 