Emily Dickinson's "She slept beneath a tree" and "It's all I have to bring today"

The first installment of this mini-series, "She slept beneath a tree," offers up one of those famous Dickinson riddles. She only describes her subject but never names it, leaving that up to her readers to guess.

The second installment, "It's all I have to bring today," sounds almost as if she is offering a continuation of the first offering. One can imagine that the "it" in the first line refers to the subject of the "She slept beneath a tree." It offers an interesting contrast to read the second in tandem with the first as opposed to reading it as standing alone.

Thomas H. Johnson returned Emily Dickinson’s poems to a closer facsimile of their original. Other editors of Dickinson had given her poem titles and regularized her idiosyncratic style, such as the liberal spray of dashes, capitalizations, and many other grammatical ellipses.

In an earlier edition of the Dickinson poems, "She slept beneath a tree" was given the title "The Tulip." Dickinson would not have approved of this titling, because the poem is one of her obvious riddles, which leaves the subject of the poem up to the reader to suss out.

The reading of the poem in the video below uses the mistitled version of the poem; still the sense of the piece can be appreciated by the reading, even though the printed form of the poem varies from the Johnson version, which offers Emily’s original and intended style.

She slept beneath a tree (aka "The Tulip")

She slept beneath a tree –
Remembered but by me.
I touched her Cradle mute –
She recognized the foot –
Put on her carmine suit
And see!

It's all I have to bring today

It's all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

Commentary on "She slept beneath a tree"

This riddle poem "She slept beneath a tree" remains mysteriously vague, as the speaker plays with the reader's sensibilities. While the subject of the riddle might be interesting, more important is the effect that child of nature has on the speaker.

First Movement: A Riddle

She slept beneath a tree –
Remembered but by me.
I touched her Cradle mute –

The speaker reports that the subject of her riddle had been sleeping at the foot of tree. No one had remembered or taken note of the subject except for the speaker, who visits the subject and "touched her Cradle." The cradle was mute or perhaps it was the speaker who remained mute. By allowing the ambiguity, the speaker amplifies the impact of the riddle.

Second Movement: Remarkable Claim

She recognized the foot –
Put on her carmine suit
And see!

The speaker then makes a remarkable claim, reporting that her subject was aware of the speaker's identity because of the sound of her football. The speaker is now playing with her readers, telling them that she, in fact, is the one who was able to remember and spot the subject.

Even more remarkable and cagey of the speaker is that after the subject of her discourse recognizes the speaker, the subject dresses herself out in a "carmine suit." The dark red coloring of the subject might offer a clue to her identity, but it might also obfuscate that identify.

The speaker then excitedly cries, "And see!" She is pointing to the subject, telling her companion, who may be real or imagined, to observe the fascinating, unusual color of the subject.

The speaker makes little known about the subject itself; her description seems to cover more than uncover, yet it reveals much about the speaker, who has demonstrated her joy, even glee, at the opportunity to discover and visit this nature's child who sleeps beneath a tree and then turns red at the mere presence of the speaker's aura.

So who is this child of nature sleeping beneath and tree? The speaker does not name the subject of this riddle poem, because she wants her audience to participate in wonder and amazement as they try to suss out exactly who that entity is.

Commentary on "It's all I have to bring today"

The poem begins in humble recognition of a humble offering but then expands to include all the speaker's circumference.

First Movement: A Blooming Statement

It's all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –

The speaker begins small with a statement that sounds quite limiting. She apparently is porting something and says that's all she has brought today. But she seems immediately to contradict that limiting statement by opening up to a whole wide world of other things she is bringing.

In addition to the object she has brought, she is also bringing "her heart," "all the fields," as well as "all the meadows." Her statement seems to fan out like one of those Japanese folding fans that folds up and then spreads out for use in moving the air about one's face.

Second Movement: Reckoning God

Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

To her audience, the speaker then commands that they also include God, that is, "some one the sum could tell." Only God is able to reckon all the creation that the speaker has chosen to allude to in her expanding report.

The speaker then reiterates that she is bringing "this" along with her heart and then expands further by including "all the Bees" that live in the clover. She has gone from bringing only a seeming token to bringing all that her eyes can detect or all that he mind can discern.

This humble speaker is simply offering all that she is, all that she sees, and all that she knows to the Blessed Creator, Who has fashioned all of this magnificent nature that she adores with her heart and soul.

Taken Together: An Alternative View

Looking at each installment of this mini-series individually returns a commingling of two slightly differing views as described in the commentaries above. But a slightly different view may be taken by using a small adjustment.

If one interprets the "it" in the second part of the series as referring to the subject of the first installment, then the speaker seems to have plucked the tulip and is now offering it at her altar for her meditation and prayer.

Actually, everything else remains the same; her humble offering to God has caused her mind to expand from simple awareness of the tulip to acknowledgment of all God's creation–including her heart, the fields, the meadows, and, of course, all the bees in the clover.

Related Emily Dickinson Information

• Life Sketch of Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson may be the most famous American poet of the nineteenth century. Her poems focus on a number of topics—some considered her "flood subjects"—including death, philosophy of life, immortality, riddles, birds, flowers, sunsets, people, and many others.

Commentaries on Emily Dickinson Poems

• Emily Dickinson's "Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine" In The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited and returned to Dickinson's idiosyncratic style by Thomas H. Johnson, the first poem sports a whopping 40 lines of 20 riming couplets.
• Emily Dickinson's "Winter is good – his Hoar Delights" and "Like Brooms of Steel" Emily Dickinson creates speakers who are every bit as a tricky as Robert Frost’s tricky speakers. Her two-stanza, eight-line lyric announcing, "Winter is good" attests to the poet’s skill of seemingly praising while showing disdain in the same breath.
• Emily Dickinson's "There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House" The following version of Emily Dickinson's "There's been a Death, in the Opposite House" in Thomas Johnson's The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson displays the poem as the poet wrote it.
• Emily Dickinson's "Because I could not stop for Death" Emily Dickinson's mystical drama features a carriage driver who appears to be a gentleman caller. The speaker abandons both her work and leisure in order to accompany the kind gentleman on a carriage ride. Dickinson’s mystical tendencies are on pull display in this poem.
• Emily Dickinson's "After great pain, a formal feeling comes" Emily Dickinson's "After great pain, a formal feeling comes" is the poem equivalent of a sculpture carved to represent grief; the poet has metaphorically carved from the rock of suffering a remarkable statue of the human mind that has experienced severe agony.