Emily Dickinson

Desire

DESIRE.
WHO never wanted,—maddest joy
Remains to him unknown;

banquet of abstemiousness

Paradox: a feast of self-denial. Dickinson claims the pleasure of wanting something exceeds the pleasure of having it.

The banquet of abstemiousness
Surpasses that of wine.
Within its hope, though yet ungrasped

Within its hope

The goal lives inside the hoping itself—not in achieving it. The wanting contains what you want.

Desire's perfect goal,
No nearer, lest reality

disenthrall

To free from slavery or enchantment. Reality would break desire's spell—she's saying stay enchanted, don't get what you want.

Should disenthrall thy soul.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Economics of Wanting

Dickinson argues that desire itself is the reward, not its satisfaction. The opening paradox—"Who never wanted, maddest joy / Remains to him unknown"—inverts common sense. The person who never experiences wanting misses the greatest pleasure. She's not talking about satisfaction; she's talking about the state of wanting.

The banquet of abstemiousness (line 3) is her central image: a feast made of not-eating. This isn't about delayed gratification or earning a reward. It's about the superiority of anticipation over possession. Wine represents fulfilled desire; abstinence from wine somehow "surpasses" it.

The final three lines explain why: getting what you want would disenthrall you—break the spell. Reality disappoints. The soul stays "enthralled" (enslaved, but also enchanted) only while desire remains unfulfilled. She's advising: keep your distance from your goals. Stay wanting.

Dickinson's Life of Renunciation

CONTEXT Dickinson spent most of her adult life in her father's house, rarely leaving, never marrying, publishing almost nothing. Scholars debate whether this was chosen renunciation or forced circumstance—probably both.

She wrote obsessively about renunciation as power. In another poem: "Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue." For Dickinson, saying no, keeping distance, maintaining desire rather than satisfying it—these weren't losses. They were a way of staying alive to feeling. Her withdrawal from the world wasn't retreat; it was strategy.

This poem reads like instruction: "No nearer, lest reality / Should disenthrall thy soul." Don't get closer to what you want. The "perfect goal" stays perfect only while "yet ungrasped." Whether she's talking about love, fame, publication, or something else, the advice is the same: the wanting is the having.