My Season’s furthest Flower (1019)

Emily Dickinson

My Season’s furthest Flower —

I tenderer commend

Because I found Her Kinsmanless,

A Grace without a Friend.

Comment:

“Furthest:” this may be the most developed, most isolated, perhaps only remaining flower. The “furthest Flower” is from the speaker’s own season. Our passions culminate in achievements of sorts, perhaps. If it is the case we cannot achieve some perfect emotional state immune to the trials of this world, then what results from our imperfect states will in some sense perish, even if wondrous. I learned a lot from someone no longer in my life. Still keep up with the topic we discussed most, though not as much. Pass what I learned best to others.

That’s why “tenderer,” I suspect. The “tenderest” has lapsed at least temporarily. The speaker is wondering where she is. All she knows is where she isn’t.

What might it mean to be alienated from one’s own “grace?” This may not be possible. If you recognize something as a grace, in a way it pleases you. Not to recount “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” but you can’t leave yourself behind. One does not befriend grace or simply give it away. The Greek charis refers to that which “reasonably pleases.” Sharing is inherent to the poem itself. This grace will find other graces and blossom again.