Tag: grass

THE grass so little has to do,–
A sphere of simple green,
With only butterflies to brood,
And bees to entertain,

And stir all day to pretty tunes
The breezes fetch along,
And hold the sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything;

And thread the dews all night, like pearls,
And make itself so fine,–
A duchess were too common
For such a noticing.

And even when it dies, to pass
In odors so divine,
As lowly spices gone to sleep,
Or amulets of pine.

And then to dwell in sovereign barns,
And dream the days away,–
The grass so little has to do,
I wish I were a hay!

Emily Dickinson

I keep expecting these things to be unrelatable, given the hundred and fiftyish years between us and our poet, and the poems keep on scratching right at my particular itch for the day. Perhaps that’s why Dickinson has remained relevant so long: we can continue to read ourselves, easily, into her poems.

I can imagine the speaker now, looking at the grass after a long, hard day, and thinking, ‘You know, it must be great to just have to be a blade of grass.’ I’ve had that kind of day. The one that starts with a raging thunderstorm as you’re driving to work, and continues with forgetting the textbook for your 8 am class, and crescendoes to the part where you have 20 or so research paper rough drafts to critique and not enough hours in the day. Oh, and remember when you promised to build a fort with your daughter and play pirates? Good, because she hasn’t forgotten. Find somewhere to fit that in between dance practice, dinner, and breathing.

I’m not quite ready to be a hay just yet, but I can definitely see the appeal.