"On my volcano grows the Grass"

On my volcano grows the Grass
A meditative spot --
An acre for a Bird to choose
Would be the General thought --

How red the Fire rocks below
How insecure the sod
Did I disclose
Would populate with awe my solitude.

F (1743), Undated. 

Dickinson's volcano poems represent an especially compelling subset of her oeuvre, with all of them finding her channeling the imagery of the destructive powers the geological formations possess in order to touch upon a variety of metaphors that stretch across her body of work. This particular entry features Dickinson picturing the precarious position the nature that has flourished upon her now dormant volcano is in, knowing that if she so chose, she could obliterate them and render herself alone again.

The grass-covered Musuan volcano in the Philippines.
Last known eruption in 1886.

Like most of the others in the series, there is an intense undercurrent of violence and danger that runs throughout the poem, in this case demonstrated by the "red...Fire" which "rocks below" the pastoral and "meditative" scene taking place right above it. It is interesting to note, however, that while the fear of the unknown is generally a recurring topic of Dickinson's work, here she almost seems to relish the power she has over the nature that has, completely unbeknownst to it, encroached upon her "solitude." It is somewhat hard not to take into account the potential double meaning "sod" may have given this reading, serving as both the literal earth and also perhaps the pejorative insult. The dark humor present in the final line (the lava "populat[ing]" that newfound solitude "with awe" by destroying everything around it) appears to further this concept. As Charles Anderson states, "...a volcano may be said to enjoy disclosing its inner fires" (172).

Attempts to psychoanalyze Dickinson should certainly be approached with caution, but this poem lends itself to that end quite well in that the divide depicted within it can easily be viewed as a metaphor for her own mental state and public image. In some sense, it can even be seen to function as a kind of reflexive commentary on the scope of her poetry as a whole, as it includes bucolic and ruminative considerations of nature's beauty and peacefulness just as it contains much darker pictures of death, existential anguish, and grief. That a fascination with each of these components constituted an important part of Dickinson's life is hard to disprove, and it is here that she may be recognizing that constant dichotomy herself, perhaps hinting at the cathartic value she finds in addressing the more morbid aspects of existence through her art that would surely alienate her from her peers if she were to discuss them more openly. Her issues with traditional displays of faith, gender roles, and general contempt for the vapidity of her society explored in poems such as “What Soft – Cherubic Creatures –” certainly reveal the lengths to which she sometimes found herself at odds with her contemporary 1800s Amherst community, so the notion that she may have used her largely unpublished poems as a way to safely expound upon and engage in her individuality is not far-fetched.   

Cody, John. “Emily Dickinson's Vesuvian Face.” American Imago, vol. 24, no. 3, 1967, pp. 161-180. JSTOR. 

https://volcano.si.edu/volcano.cfm?vn=271070