Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn
~Emily Dickinson
Indicative that suns go down;
The notice to the startled grass
That darkness is about to pass.
Such a small yet fascinating poem. The first thing we read, that unwieldy first line, mimics the length of the shadow on the lawn. This line is twelve syllables, while the remaining three lines have only eight syllables each. They are all perfectly matched, the last two even rhyming in a true rhyme with “grass” and “pass.” I love when poems do this–when their structure somehow mirrors their subject matter. “Presentiment” itself is a long, unwieldy word, and perhaps presentiment itself is an unwieldy, awkward thing–what do we do with our presentiments, if we have them? What do we make of them? How do they affect us? Are they even real?
I’m not sure why the grass is startled. Doesn’t it know to expect the passing darkness? It’s not as if it’s never happened before or will never happen again. The very notion of presentiment being connected to the setting of the sun is strange–of course the sun goes down. It does this every day. It’s not a presentiment if we know it’s going to happen.
But Dickinson is, of course, dealing in metaphor. Presentiment is symbolized by that long shadow, the stretching shade that tells us that something else, something different, is on its way. Darkness follows light.
In the final line, “darkness is about to pass.” This is a rich choice of words. On the one hand, darkness is about to pass over–it’s about to happen. But on the other hand, the choice of “pass” conveys a sense of motion, a certainty that, no matter what, the darkness is not forever. This, too, shall pass.
The Emily Project 