Wednesday, June 03, 2020

Yellow she affords

From right clockwise - Rosa 'James Mason', R. 'William Lobb', R. 'Duchess of Portland' & R. 'La Belle Sultane' - 04 June 2020

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Two: Nature


NATURE rarer uses yellow       

  Than another hue;       

Saves she all of that for sunsets,—   

  Prodigal of blue,


Spending scarlet like a woman,                 5

  Yellow she affords       

Only scantly and selectly,        

  Like a lover’s words.

These days of waiting it is easy to roam in our garden and cut roses to scan. Today I thought that the idea of doing something related to the yellow stamens of my roses (all once bloomers) was a good one. But then, what could I possibly write about?

The first thing I did was to look up the Real Academia Española Dictionary (RAE) definition of amarillo (yellow). It seems that it comes from the Latin amarellus which means bitter.

Del b. lat. hisp. amarellus, y este del dim. del lat. amārus 'amargo'.

From there I went to my old faithful Emily Dickinson who seems to have written about everything. That she did. Her little poem is not bitter. I would say bittersweet.

 More Emily Dickinson  
A sepal, petal and a thorn
Her breast is fit for pearls  
I would not paint a picture
November left then clambered up
You cannot make remembrance grow
the maple wears a gayer scarf 
We turn not older with years, but older

 A melancholy of a waning summer
Just as green and as white
It's full as opera
I cannot dance upon my Toes
a door just opened on the street 
Amber slips away
When August burning low
Pink Small and punctual
A slash of blue
I cannot dance upon my toes
Ah little rose
For hold them, blue to blue
The colour of the grave is green
 Her Grace is not all she has  
To know if any human eyes were near
Linda Melsted - the music of the violin does not emerge alone
The Charm invests her face
A sepal, a petal and a thorn
The Savior must have been a docile Gentleman
T were blessed to have seen
There is no frigate like a book
I pay in satin cash
Emily Dickinson's White Dress & a Hunter of Lost Souls
El vestido blanco - The White Dress
Water makes many beds
 The viola da gamba
 But sequence ravelled out of reach
 A parasol is the umbrella's daughter
 Without the power to die
 Lessons on the piny
Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
 Sleep is supposed to be
The shutting of the eye
I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
In a library
 A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed

But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts