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A something in a summer's day,
As slow her flambeaux burn away,
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer's noon, —
An azure depth, a wordless tune,
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright,
I clap my hands to see;
Then veil my too inspecting face,
Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me.
The wizard-fingers never rest,
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes its narrow bed;
Still rears the East her amber flag,
Guides still the sun along the crag
His caravan of red,
Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their low brows;
Or bees, that thought the summer's name
Some rumor of delirium
No summer could for them;
Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred
By tropic hint, — some travelled bird
Imported to the wood;
Or wind's bright signal to the ear,
Making that homely and severe,
Contented, known, before
The heaven unexpected came,
To lives that thought their worshipping
A too presumptuous psalm.
Emily Dickinson’s "Psalm of the Day" is a meditation on the ineffable moments of transcendence that nature offers, moments so profound that they verge on the sacred. The poem captures the fleeting, almost mystical quality of summer’s beauty, framing it as both a revelation and a challenge to human perception. Through its rich imagery, paradoxical language, and contemplative tone, the poem explores themes of awe, limitation, and the tension between earthly experience and spiritual longing. This analysis will examine the poem’s historical and cultural context, its literary devices, thematic concerns, and emotional resonance, while also considering Dickinson’s broader philosophical and poetic preoccupations.
Dickinson wrote during the mid-19th century, a period marked by the rise of Transcendentalism, a movement that emphasized the spiritual significance of nature and the individual’s intuitive grasp of the divine. Figures like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau celebrated nature as a conduit for higher truth, a belief that resonates in Dickinson’s work. However, Dickinson’s perspective is distinct—more skeptical, more private, and more attuned to the limits of human comprehension.
The poem’s title, "Psalm of the Day," immediately situates it within a religious framework. Psalms, traditionally sacred songs or hymns, express devotion, awe, and sometimes lament. Dickinson secularizes this form, applying it not to God directly but to the ephemeral beauty of a summer day. This reflects her broader tendency to blend the sacred and the mundane, treating natural phenomena with the reverence typically reserved for the divine.
Dickinson’s poem is dense with imagery that evokes both wonder and restraint. The opening lines—
"A something in a summer's day, / As slow her flambeaux burn away, / Which solemnizes me."
—introduce the central motif of an undefined, almost mystical presence ("a something") that transforms the ordinary into the sublime. The word "flambeaux" (torches) suggests both illumination and transience, as the day’s light fades. This imagery is paradoxical: the day’s beauty is radiant yet diminishing, inspiring both reverence ("solemnizes") and a sense of fleetingness.
The second stanza deepens this tension:
"An azure depth, a wordless tune, / Transcending ecstasy."
Here, Dickinson employs synesthesia—blending visual ("azure depth") and auditory ("wordless tune") sensations—to convey an experience beyond language. The phrase "transcending ecstasy" suggests that this moment surpasses even the highest emotional intensity, positioning it as something almost ungraspable.
The third stanza introduces an almost childlike response to beauty:
"And still within a summer's night / A something so transporting bright, / I clap my hands to see;"
The speaker’s spontaneous gesture ("I clap my hands") contrasts with the poem’s otherwise restrained tone, emphasizing the overwhelming effect of the vision. Yet this immediacy is quickly tempered by self-consciousness:
"Then veil my too inspecting face, / Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace / Flutter too far for me."
The act of veiling suggests a recognition of human limitation—the "inspecting face" risks dissecting the moment into oblivion. The "shimmering grace" is fragile, like a butterfly that might flee if scrutinized too closely. This tension between observation and restraint is central to Dickinson’s poetics.
The poem engages deeply with the Romantic and Transcendentalist concept of the sublime—the awe-inspiring, often terrifying beauty that overwhelms human comprehension. Dickinson’s sublime is quieter than, say, Wordsworth’s or Shelley’s; it is found in the "subtle" and "shimmering" rather than the grand and mountainous. Yet it is no less profound.
The latter stanzas introduce a series of metaphors that underscore the theme of unattainable beauty:
"Like flowers that heard the tale of dews, / But never deemed the dripping prize / Awaited their low brows;"
Here, the flowers are unaware that the dew—a symbol of nourishment and blessing—is meant for them. This reflects Dickinson’s recurring concern with the gap between human perception and divine (or natural) benevolence. Similarly, the bees who mistake summer for "some rumor of delirium" suggest that even those most attuned to nature’s rhythms may fail to fully comprehend its gifts.
The Arctic creature stirred by "tropic hint" and the "wind’s bright signal" further develop this idea of partial understanding. These images evoke a world where meaning is always just beyond reach, where creatures (and humans) grasp only fragments of a larger, inscrutable design.
Dickinson’s personal spirituality was heterodox—she was deeply engaged with religious questions but resisted orthodox Christian doctrine. Her poems often depict moments of near-revelation that stop short of doctrinal certainty. In "Psalm of the Day," the final lines—
"The heaven unexpected came, / To lives that thought their worshipping / A too presumptuous psalm."
—suggest that transcendence arrives not through deliberate seeking but as an unanticipated gift. The "presumptuous psalm" implies that humans often doubt their own capacity to perceive the divine, yet grace descends regardless. This aligns with Dickinson’s broader skepticism toward institutional religion and her preference for private, intuitive encounters with the sacred.
While Emerson proclaimed that "Nature is the symbol of spirit," Dickinson’s relationship with nature was more ambivalent. Where Emerson and Thoreau saw a transparent correspondence between the natural and the divine, Dickinson often portrays nature as elusive, even withholding. In "A Light exists in Spring," for instance, she describes a luminosity "Not present on the Year / At any other period," emphasizing its fleeting, singular quality—much like the "something" in "Psalm of the Day."
Similarly, her contemporary Walt Whitman celebrated the self’s expansive unity with the cosmos in "Song of Myself," whereas Dickinson’s speakers frequently confront their own smallness before the vastness of experience. This humility is evident in "Psalm of the Day," where the speaker both exults in and retreats from the sublime.
The emotional power of "Psalm of the Day" lies in its delicate balance between rapture and restraint. The poem does not offer the easy consolations of faith or the triumphant union of self and universe. Instead, it captures the quiet, trembling awe of one who glimpses something beyond comprehension—and, recognizing the limits of perception, chooses reverence over dissection.
Dickinson’s genius is in rendering such moments with precision and grace, allowing the reader to feel both the splendor and the sorrow of ephemeral beauty. In doing so, she transforms the summer day into a psalm—not a triumphant hymn, but a whispered, wondering prayer.
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