 |
| Helleborus 'Honeymoon' - 27 March 2025 |
Essential Oils — are wrung – Emily Dickinson
675
Essential Oils — are wrung —
The Attar from the Rose
Be not expressed by Suns — alone —
It is the gift of Screws —
The General Rose — decay —
But this — in Lady's Drawer
Make Summer — When the Lady lie
In Ceaseless Rosemary —
Of late I have had so many distractions, and particularly today. Because it was sunny I worked in the garden and I found myself a tad less sad about not having my Rosemary around.
As soon as it got dark and it began to rain I was back to my usual dark mood. Sometimes to lift myself from that writing a blog about her helps a bit.
Because I have several books of Emily Dickinson’s poems I know quite a few of them. I believe I may have written around 125 blogs where I combine my photograph with a Dickinson poem.
Today my awareness of a Dickinson poem I was not familiar with appeared in my Twitter/X feed as I follow at least two Dickinson sites.
It mentions Rosemary (the plant) and a rose. Today I have neither to show but I knew I could work around the problem by using Helleborus ‘Honeymoon’. Why? Because this spring blooming perennial, a favourite of Rosemary, is also called a Lenten Rose.
More Emily Dickinson blogs
All the Witchcraft that we need
It only gives our wish for blue
Rosemary white and a bit of yellow
November left then clambered up
You cannot make remembrance grow
November
the maple wears a gayer scarf
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
Sleep
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
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
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
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
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html