My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - 
In Corners - till a Day 
The Owner passed - identified -
And carried Me away -

And now We roam in Sovereign Woods -
And now We hunt the Doe -
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply -

And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow -
It is as a Vesuvius face
Had let it’s pleasure through -

And when at Night - Our good Day done -
I guard My Master’s Head -
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow - to have shared -

To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -
None stir the second time -
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -
Or an emphatic Thumb -

Though I than He - may longer live
He longer must - than I -
For I have but the power to kill,
Without - the power to die -

Emily Dickinson

We can read many essays about the most "mysterious” poem; "My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - ". I always insist that Emily is a mischievous American girl, not a mystic. Firstly native authors tend to interpret "a Loaded Gun" as a weapon of a person with anger. 

I tried to interpret it as a flank volcano and Owner as summit volcano. She is not a feminist so that we don't have to use feministic terms. The poem was mischievously composed, but not philosophical, just a description of two types of volcano; flank volcano and summit volcano. 

As usual, she prays herself be dead volcano early for eternal peace.


I - a flank volcano - had stood
In corners - till a day when
The summit passed by, identified me
And call for me -

And now we roam in Sovereign Woods -
And now we destroy the village -
And every time I speak for Him
The mountains echo straight -

When I smile, such warm light
On the valley glow -
It is as if a Vesuvius was
All smiles with pleasure -

At night when we finish our job
I guard the summit volcano -
’Tis better than to have shared
The white ashes -

I’m more terrible than he -
Any villager shrinks -
On whom I lay a yellow eye -
Or a condemning thumb -

Though I may live longer than he
He must live longer than I -
For I have the power to kill him,
But no power to commit suicide -

Emily Dickinson