I taste a liquor never brewed

Emily Dickinson had a thing for dashes and arbitrary capitalization. It is obnoxious. Anyway, this'll be a bit of a combo between question 10 and question 14. First off, it is extremely helpful to know what "the Rhine" refers to. It is a river that passes through most of Europe, including Germany. Now, this particular river is famous for its various vineyards and wineries built right alongside it. And I hardly think it's a stretch to say that the Germans are pretty good at making alcohol. So when the speaker says that not all the vats upon the Rhine yield such an alcohol, she is literally saying that this particular "alcohol" (which is probably not actually alcohol) is better than any brew of human design. I declare it to be an effective allusion. Nextly, there is some pretty intriguing imagery, and I think it all seems to flow along a similar thread. Most of the images have to do with nature: Inebriate of Air, Debauchee of Dew, summer days, Molten Blue, drunken bee, butterflies, and the sun. This ultimately implies that the speaker can get "drunk" off of nature. Literally, she finds nature, either dew or air or sky, to be the most intoxicating experience imaginable. She has such love for nature that she says she will never stop, even when bees and butterflies have had their fill, she will keep going (third stanza) until she need not drink anymore (fourth stanza).

"I think you've had quite enough of that nature, Ms. Dickinson."
"I think YOU'VE had enough! *falls off tree stump*

I Felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I'll go ahead and take a stab at question number 10 here. The imagery in this poem is fairly intriguing. Generally when one thinks of imagery, they picture sprawling landscapes or vibrant colors or bustling city scenes or a dank bar. The important thing is that usually, they picture things. The most prevalent part of imagery is usually sight, but in this poem, it's entirely absent, making way for the auditory sense to take root. Most of the things described, Drum, beating, heard, creak, toll, Bell, Ear, Silence, etc. all create a sense of hearing. The ultimate purpose of this is to give the sense that the speaker is being assaulted by things, in this case, various ideas. It makes sense really. When one is assaulted by something visual, a bright light or something traumatizing, all that needs to be done is to shut one's eyes. However, in the case of sound, an intense sound is impossible to keep out. One can cover their ears, but it is ultimately impossible to shut it out completely, and it still wracks through the mind. Thus, these opposing ideas and conflicts that plague the speaker's mind are impossible to keep out, and eventually lead to the speaker's mental breakdown.

Some might doubt the sheer destructive power of sound, but Marty McFly will tell them differently.

Ten - Welcome to Spain

I am just not feeling the creative titles today. There was something interesting about this chapter that struck me almost immediately. This of course is the extreme detail that Hemingway gives to the landscape and area of Spain. In previous chapters, things followed a simple pattern: "I woke up, went to the cafe, met Friend X, *three pages of dialogue*". It was a simple style, and it got the job done. However, now we're in a brand new country, and Hemingway spares no expense on the vivid imagery. Things like "You could feel the air came from the sea," (p. 97), and "long brown mountains and a few pines and far-off forests of beech trees on some of the mountainsides" (p. 99). Anyway, it was certainly a welcome change. Dare I say refreshing? Anyway, as far as the way of plot goes, nobody likes Robert Cohn. Poor guy. It's quite understandable for Jake to hate on him; one can only assume that perhaps Jake is a wee bit jealous. However, I don't really get why Bill is so hostile. I guess it could just be that little "air of superior knowledge" (p. 101), but he certainly got worked up awful quick. Maybe he just senses that Robert Cohn is just destined to be made fun of. Anyway, seeing as they are Jake and Bill, rather than confronting Cohn, they dance around the topic and make fun of his Jew-ness. Real mature, guys.

This is Spain. It's pretty, just like Hemingway said.