Emily Dickinson’s speaker gently reminds a flower that it can’t soothe a butterfly or thrill a bee — those aren’t its capacities. Then she imagines being that blossom and says she would rather be its brief, radiant moment than a bee’s everlasting, busy life. The flower doesn’t need to do more than bloom and wither, and that feels wholly enough. Fading brings her profound contentment, as if she’s slipping into divinity. Even dying becomes a lifetime, as vast as what the eye can take in, if some beloved presence — nature, a lover — raises the least attention her way. The mood is hushed, accepting, almost weightless. There’s no struggle against time, just a calm embrace of transience as something holy.
'Twould ease -- a Butterfly -- — Summary
'Twould ease -- a Butterfly -- Elate -- a Bee -- Thou'rt neither -- Neither -- thy capacity --
But, Blossom, were I, I would rather be Thy moment Than a Bee's Eternity --
Content of fading Is enough for me -- Fade I unto Divinity --
And Dying -- Lifetime -- Ample as the Eye -- Her least attention raise on me --