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愛密莉. 狄金生 的 秘密花園 If we love Flowers, Are we not “born again” every Day.. E.D. to Mrs.Dickerman, 1886.

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Presentation on theme: "愛密莉. 狄金生 的 秘密花園 If we love Flowers, Are we not “born again” every Day.. E.D. to Mrs.Dickerman, 1886."— Presentation transcript:

1 愛密莉. 狄金生 的 秘密花園 If we love Flowers, Are we not “born again” every Day.. E.D. to Mrs.Dickerman, 1886

2 Emily /Dickinson I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—Too? Then there’s a pair of Us ? Don’t tell! They’d advertise—you know! How dreary—to be—Somebody! How public—like a Frog— To tell one’s name—the livelong June— To an admiring Bog!

3 I must tell you about the character of Amherst. It is a lady who the people call the Myth. She is a sister of Mr. Dickinson, and seems to be the climax of all the family oddity. She has not been outside of her own house in fifteen years, except once to see a new church, when she crept out at night, and viewed it by moonlight. No one who calls upon her mother & sister ever see her, but she allows little children once in a great while, & once at a time, to come in, when she gives them candy, or some nicety, for she is very fond of little ones. (Jay Leyda, 357)

4 Emily Dickinson’s home Historical time and place Family Education

5 是甚麼原因使家世良好的狄金生自我囚禁一生? 她謎樣的故事與吸引人的詩文百餘年來引發無 數讀者及學者的好奇探討。傳統派的人士一直 努力為她創造一個愛情悲劇,想找出她的 secret lover ,那位讓她心碎而閉門與世隔絕的 男士。女性主義或同性戀者則宣稱他們從 Dickinson 詩文中發現那位秘密戀人是位女性, 她是 lesbian 。在大眾心理學盛行之時,讀者、 學者以及心理醫師宣稱她隱居是因為心理的疾 病。至於是什麼病則眾說紛紜,從自閉症、空 間恐懼症到戀父情結都紛紛出籠。 Depression?

6 Drawing a line: Me and They The Show is not the Show But they that go - Menagerie to me My neighbor be - Fair Play - Both went to see -

7 They shut me up in Prose As when a little Girl They put me in the closet - Because they liked me “still” -

8 Much Madness is divinest Sense— To a discerning Eye— Much Sense—the starkest Madness— ‘Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail— Absent—and you are sane— Demur—you’re straightway dangerous— And handled with a Chain— (#435)

9 The Soul selects her own Society - Then - shuts the Door - To her divine Majority - Present no more - Unmoved - she notes the Chariots - pausing - At her low Gate - Unmoved - an Emperor be Kneeling On her Rush mat - I’ve known her - from an ample nation Choose one - Then - close the Valves of her attention Like Stone -

10 What mystery pervades a well! The water lives so far— A neighbor from another world Residing in a jar…. But Nature is a stranger yet; The ones that cite her most Have never passed her haunted house Nor simplified her ghost

11 How Happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone He doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears - Whose Coat of elemental Brown A passing Universe put on, And independent as the sun Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute Decree In casual simplicity -

12 時間的囚犯 I sing to use the Waiting My bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I Till His best step approaching We journey to the Day And tell each other how we sung To keep the Dark away. A Night—there lay the Days between— The Day that was Before— And Day was Behind—were one— And now—‘twas Night—was here-- Slow—Night—that must be watched away— As Grains upon a shore— Too imperceptible to note— Till it be night—no more--

13 Good Morning— Midnight— I’m coming Home— Day—got tired of Me— How could I—of Him? Sunshine was a sweet place— I liked to stay— But Morn—didn’t want me—now So—Goodnight—Day! I can look—can’t I— When the East is Red? The Hills—have a way— then— That puts the Heart— abroad— You—are not so fair— Midnight— I chose—Day— But—please take a little Girl— He turned away!

14 The Brain is wider than the sky The Brain - is wider than the Sky - For - put them side by side - The one the other will contain With ease - and You - beside - The Brain is deeper than the sea - For - hold them - Blue to Blue - - The one the other will absorb - As Sponges - Buckets - do The Brain is just the weight of God - For - Heft them - Pound for Pound - And they will differ - if they so - As Syllable from Sound -

15 Me from myself—to banish— Had I Art— Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart--

16 Publication is the auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing… In the Parcel--Be the Merchant Of the Heavenly Grace— But reduce no Human Spirit To Disgrace of Price— (#709)

17 Gardening in Eden Every bird that sings, and every bud that blooms, does but remind me more of that garden unseen, awaiting the hand that tills it. Emily Dickinson to Susan Gilbert,1852

18 We should not mind so small a flower Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again. That whoso sees this little flower By faith may clear behold The Bobolinks around the throne And Dandelions gold

19 Dear Friend, A Tree your Father gave me, bore this priceless flower. Would you accept it because of him

20 Samuel Bowles chose 2 nicknames for E.D.:his Daisy and his Queen The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done Sits shily at his feet— He—waking—finds the flowers there— Wherefore—Marauder—are thou here? Because, Sir love is sweet! We are the flower—Thou the Sun!

21 The letter Higginson wrote to his wife She came to me with 2 day lilies which she put in a sort of childlike way into my hand and said, ‘These are my introduction’ in a soft frightened breathless childlike voice & added under her breath, Forgive me if I am frightened: I never see strangers & hardly know what I say… I never was with any one who drained my never power so much. Without touching her, she drew from me. I am glad not to live near her.

22 The Woodland Garden Susie, You will forgive me, for I never visit. I am from the fields, you know and while quite at home with the Dandelion, make but sorry figure I a Drawing- room—Did you ask me out with a bunch of Daisie, I should thank you, and accept—but with Roses— Lilies”…I suffer much embarrassment! (p.103)

23 Two years before she dies, she jotted this bleak poem on the back of an envelope addressed to her Aunt E. Currier Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at it’s play— In accidental power— The blonde Assassin passes on— The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day To an Approving God--

24 The Enclosed Garden Some keep the Sabbath going to Church— I keep it, staying at Home— With a Bobolink for Chorister— And an Orchard, for a Dome--

25 The Garden in the Brain When I believe the Garden Mortal shall not see— Pick by faith it’s blossom And avoid it’s Bee, I can spare this summer-- unreluctantly -

26 To pack the Bud—oppose the Worm— Obtain it’s right of Dew— Adjust the Heat—elude the Wind— Escape the prowling Bee— Great Nature not to disappoint Awaiting Her that Day-- To be a Flower, is profound Responsibility-

27 Obituary: Duties beautifully done Very few in the village knew Miss Emily personally, except among the older in habitants, although the fact of her seclusion and intellectual brilliancy was one of the familiar Amherst traditions. There are many homes among the classes into which her dainty treasures of fruit and flowers and almost ambrosial dishes for the sick and well were constantly sent, that will forever miss those dainty traces of her unselfish devotion …. As she passed on in life, her sensitive nature shrank from much personal contact with the world,

28 and more and more she turned to her own large wealth of individual resources, for companion-ship - sitting henceforth, as some one said of her, "In the light of her own fire". Not disappointed with the world, not an invalid till within the past two years - not from any lack of all embracing love,and sympathy - not because she was insufficient for any mental work, or social career, her endowments being so exceptional, but the "mesh of her soul" as Browning calls the body, was too rare, and the sacred quiet of her own home proved the native at- mosphere for her worth and work. …One can only speak of "Duties beautifully done"- of her gentle tillage of her rare flowers filling her conservatory, into which, like the heavenly Paradise entered nothing that could defile, and which was ever abloom in frost or sunshine

29 Emily Recalled This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings And Attar so immense From the familiar species That perished by the Door- We wonder it was not Ourselves Arrested it—before--


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