If the foolish, call them "flowers" — Summary

Emily Dickinson gently pokes fun at the need to label and rank everything. She suggests that if someone innocently calls something a “flower,” why correct them? Even scholars have their own way, and that’s fine. People who grasp deep truths shouldn’t look down on those with blurred vision — like Moses, who saw the promised land from a distance, they might be reading the same revelation through a fog. The speaker imagines that from that far-off perspective, many earthly sciences would seem superfluous, things that angels in heaven never study. Instead, she aches to stand humbly among “glad Belles lettres” — the joyful play of language and beauty — like a small star in a profound galaxy, placed at God’s right hand. The mood is quiet, witty, and reverent, full of a longing for wonder over rigid classification.