Poem Analysis «I taste a liquor never brewed.» Emily Dickinson

Poem Analysis «I taste a liquor never brewed.» Emily Dickinson

« Cet été les roses sont bleues; le bois c’est du verre. La terre

drapée dans sa verdure me fait aussi peu d’effet qu’un
revenant. C’est vivre et cesser de vivre qui sont des solutions imaginaires. L’existence est ailleurs. »

André Breton (Manifeste du surréalisme)

“This summer the roses are blue; the wood is of glass. The earth draped in its verdure has as much effect on me as a ghost. It is living and ceasing to live which are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.”

Translation of the «First Manifesto of Surrealism» 1924 André Breton: Translated by A. S. Kline

I taste a liquor never brewed —

[ again I am in land unforeseen

A mystic dwell all my own
“I dwell in possibility
A fairer house than prose “

[ Oh wonders that ” I ”
or is it an ” Eye ” of mind
I exclusively own
Analogies drawn
with verses alone ]

From Tankards scooped in Pearl —

[What godly Speech creates being

ontologgy is «Brain, within» its «Reeling» ]*

Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!

[ Without a Rhyme my dashes Align
The reading rhythm of song inside
The song arrives in Capital shine]–

[ “Bees” capitalised

and “Tankards scooped in Pearl”

are my Geography’s landmarks,

my reading guide in rhythm Bells]

Inebriate of Air — am I –

[A Sensualist crescendo and Purity gist
In unexpected wonderful twist]

And Debauchee of Dew –

[Oh! Rerum Concordia discors ]**

{This makes them in rows two}
[and while meter is omnipresent]

{Here comes a rhyme of Dew with Blue]

Reeling — thro endless summer days —
From inns of Molten Blue –

[What mystic Flux– is Poetry Hex ]

When «Landlords» turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door –

[And even when
Yes even then
that rhyme begins at door
To: drink the more ]

When Butterflies — renounce their «drams»
[A final act a drumming rant a Whimper or a Bang ]

I shall but drink the more!

[ of air and dew— a Debauchee–

a genuine form as my attaché ]

Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats —
And Saints — to windows run —

“I never spoke with God
Nor visited in Heaven
Yet certain am I of the spot”

To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the — Sun –

[In heaven bliss
A tippler in the sunny sky
what heaven is to lie
in molten blue and die]

This was my Ana-lysis


* Quotes within brackets [ ] are my (so to say) analysis
** Horace Epistles
» ….» I used double quotes to mark the insertion of verses
from Dickinson’s poems that we read in the course and which
shared some analogy with the verses of the poem in analysis
-The song arrives in Capital shine-
Poetry is fairer house than prose, its form in a —

quasi manner, as Splinter swerved — in here seems too.


Εισάγετε τα παρακάτω στοιχεία ή επιλέξτε ένα εικονίδιο για να συνδεθείτε:

Λογότυπο WordPress.com

Σχολιάζετε χρησιμοποιώντας τον λογαριασμό WordPress.com. Αποσύνδεση /  Αλλαγή )

Φωτογραφία Twitter

Σχολιάζετε χρησιμοποιώντας τον λογαριασμό Twitter. Αποσύνδεση /  Αλλαγή )

Φωτογραφία Facebook

Σχολιάζετε χρησιμοποιώντας τον λογαριασμό Facebook. Αποσύνδεση /  Αλλαγή )

Σύνδεση με %s