Emily had me in tears this week. I cannot wait to meet this woman once we are both behind the veil, when we “wade in Liberty” as she puts it. What a gift of words E. Dickinson had to hint us there, what a manner of speaking. Here is one sample I recently came across, #276:
Many a phrase has the English language—
I have heard but one—
Low as the laughter of the Cricket,
Loud as the Thunder’s Tongue–
Murmuring, like old Caspain Choirs,
When the Tide’s a’lull
Saying itself in new inflection—
Like a Whippoorwill—
Breaking in bright Orthography
On my simple sleep—
Thundering its Prospective—
Till I stir and weep—
Not for sorrow, done me—
But for push of Joy—
Say it again Saxon!
Hush—Only to me!
Here’s another monotype I did in December and titled in January, “A Manner of Speaking.” It is that similar sense of language (though not English) out there that is continually speaking, if we will look and earnestly consider, for joy and for healthy weeping.