Emily Dickinson

Have you got a brook in your little heart?

Have you got a brook in your little heart,

bashful, blushing

Dickinson personifies the brook's contents with human shame. These flowers and birds aren't just shy—they're embarrassed, suggesting the inner life is something to hide or be ashamed of.

Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,

bashful, blushing

Dickinson personifies the brook's contents with human shame. These flowers and birds aren't just shy—they're embarrassed, suggesting the inner life is something to hide or be ashamed of.

And shadows tremble so?

nobody knows, so still

The paradox: something flows constantly but invisibly. The brook's silence and stillness are what keep it hidden—privacy through quietness, not through absence.

And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there;
And yet your little draught of life

draught of life

A medical/bodily term. Life isn't lived; it's consumed like medicine or drink. Notice Dickinson shifts from observing the brook to claiming we drink from it daily.

draught of life

A medical/bodily term. Life isn't lived; it's consumed like medicine or drink. Notice Dickinson shifts from observing the brook to claiming we drink from it daily.

Is daily drunken there.
Then look out for the little brook in March,

March overflow, August drought

The poem moves from abundance to scarcity. These seasonal extremes aren't poetic—they're warnings about emotional danger at both ends: drowning in feeling or drying up entirely.

March overflow, August drought

The poem moves from abundance to scarcity. These seasonal extremes aren't poetic—they're warnings about emotional danger at both ends: drowning in feeling or drying up entirely.

When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying from the hills,
And the bridges often go.
And later, in August it may be,

March overflow, August drought

The poem moves from abundance to scarcity. These seasonal extremes aren't poetic—they're warnings about emotional danger at both ends: drowning in feeling or drying up entirely.

March overflow, August drought

The poem moves from abundance to scarcity. These seasonal extremes aren't poetic—they're warnings about emotional danger at both ends: drowning in feeling or drying up entirely.

When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life
Some burning noon go dry!
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Hidden Interior Life

Dickinson uses the brook as an extended metaphor for the inner emotional world—specifically one that's private, shameful, and dangerous. The poem begins with a question that assumes we all have this hidden interior, but most people don't know it exists in us. The 'bashful flowers' and 'blushing birds' suggest that what grows inside us is inherently embarrassed, something we instinctively conceal.

The critical move comes in line 7: 'And yet your little draught of life / Is daily drunken there.' We don't just have this brook—we depend on it for survival. We consume from it constantly without awareness. This reframes the hidden life from a private luxury into a biological necessity, like breathing. The brook sustains us precisely because it remains unexamined.

Seasonal Extremes as Psychological Danger

The second half abandons metaphor for direct warning. Dickinson names two specific threats: March's overflow (when 'rivers overflow' and 'bridges often go') and August's drought ('meadows parching lie'). These aren't just weather patterns—they're models for psychological crisis.

The March danger is excess: too much feeling, too much flow, loss of control and structure. The August danger is depletion: the brook 'go[es] dry,' meaning the inner life can simply stop sustaining you. Dickinson doesn't resolve this tension. Instead, she ends with 'Beware'—a direct command that the reader must actively monitor their own interior, watching for both drowning and desiccation. The poem offers no cure, only vigilance.