With this line, Dickinson begins a curious condensation of major Biblical figures and places, describing most with an epithet of no more than three words until the full stop, after which the speaker dwells on “Sin” for far longer (relatively speaking). By reducing these multi-faceted figures to brief epithets, Dickinson demonstrates the lack of attention to these captivating aspects of the Bible in favor of “Sin” and “Condemn[ation]” that drives the “boys” away.

Emily Dickinson sent this poem, often referred to as 1557 (its Fr#) or by its first line, to her nephew Ned “when he was probably ill.” She prefaced it with the note, “‘Sanctuary Privileges’ for Ned, as he is unable to attend” (Phillips 167).

The poem expresses a frustration with the way in which biblical stories were presented to youth—an especially important issue for Amherst residents who were in the midst of moving away from austere Calvinism. As Lundin puts it in Dickinson and the Art of Belief, “Over the course of the first several decades of the nineteenth century, the transformation of the Edwardian legacy continued across new England. Following the lead of Dwight and others, evangelical Christians sought increasingly to link church and society by stressing the moral improvement of the self rather than the inscrutable will and character of God” (12).

Lundin, Roger. Emily Dickinson and the Art of Belief. N.p.: William B. Eerdmans Pub., 2004. Print.

Phillips, Elizabeth. Emily Dickinson: Personae and Performance. University Park: Pennsylvania State UP, 1988. Print.

So much criticism of GoT is based on this weird idea that every single scene has to explicitly move the plot or develop a character in a new way, which is frustrating and kind of sad. I don’t want to watch a show where everything “need[ed]” to happen. Granted, GoT can start to feel a bit like Titus Andronicus when it isn’t careful. This might be one of those cases, but we shouldn’t argue against it just because it wasn’t absolutely necessary.