How innocent we lie among
The righteous!--Lord, how sweet we smell,
Doing this wicked thing, this love,
Bought up by bishops!--doing well,
With all our leisure, all our pride,
What's illy done and done in haste
By licensed folk on every side,
Spitting out fruit before they taste.
(That stalk must thrust a clubby bud,
Push an abortive flower to birth.)
Under the moon and the lit scud
Of the clouds, the cool conniving earth
Pillows my head, where your head lies;
Weep, if you must, into my hair
Tomorrow's trouble: the cold eyes
That know you gone and wonder where.
But tell the bishops with their sons,
Shout to the City Hall how we
Under a thick barrage of guns
Filched their divine commodity.
(From "Mine The Harvest" 1954)
Where to start? The first important thing to note is that this poem is found in "Mine The Harvest," one of Millay's later books. The maturity of the verse structure makes sense for this timing but the subject matter does not. The beauty of this poem, for me, is in its ability to blend social commentary with joyous passion. I love the alliteration she uses with "cool, conniving earth." But my favorite part of this poem is the last part. It has a victorious feel to it, a rebellious, young and free declaration.
Showing posts with label late work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label late work. Show all posts
Monday, April 25, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Here In A Rocky Cup of Earth
Here In A Rocky Cup of Earth
Here in a rocky cup of earth
The simple acorn brought to birth
What has in ages grown to be
A very oak, a mighty tree.
The granite of the rock is split
And crumbled by the girth of it.
Incautious was the rock to feed
The acorn's mouth; unwise indeed
Am I, upon whose stony heart
Fell softly down, sits quietly,
The seed of love's imperial tree
That soon may force my breast apart.
"I fear you not. I have no doubt
My meagre soil shall starve you out!"
Unless indeed you prove to be
The kernel of a kingly tree;
Which if you be I am content
To go the way the granite went,
And be myself no more at all,
So you but prosper and grow tall.
(From "Mine the Harvest" 1954)
This poem always draws me in with its beauty and courage. I can't fully relate to it yet but I love to believe I someday will.
The image of this tree sprung from a large rock is etched in my mind.
I hope you enjoy it as well.
Here in a rocky cup of earth
The simple acorn brought to birth
What has in ages grown to be
A very oak, a mighty tree.
The granite of the rock is split
And crumbled by the girth of it.
Incautious was the rock to feed
The acorn's mouth; unwise indeed
Am I, upon whose stony heart
Fell softly down, sits quietly,
The seed of love's imperial tree
That soon may force my breast apart.
"I fear you not. I have no doubt
My meagre soil shall starve you out!"
Unless indeed you prove to be
The kernel of a kingly tree;
Which if you be I am content
To go the way the granite went,
And be myself no more at all,
So you but prosper and grow tall.
(From "Mine the Harvest" 1954)
This poem always draws me in with its beauty and courage. I can't fully relate to it yet but I love to believe I someday will.
The image of this tree sprung from a large rock is etched in my mind.
I hope you enjoy it as well.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Modern Declaration
Modern Declaration
I, having loved ever since I was a child a few things, never having
wavered
In these affections; never through shyness in the houses of the
rich or in the presence of clergymen having denied these
loves;
Never when worked upon by cynics like chiropractors having
grunted or clicked a vertebra to the discredit of those loves;
Never when anxious to land a job having diminished them by a
conniving smile; or when befuddled by drink
Jeered at them through heartache or lazily fondled the fingers of
their alert enemies; declare
That I shall love you always.
No matter what party is in power;
No matter what temporarily expedient combination of allied
interests wins the war;
Shall love you always.
(From "Huntsman, What Quarry?" 1939)
Seeing as it is St. Valentine's day, I thought it fitting to share one of Millay's few poems about lasting love. In this poem she makes use of a few metaphors to make her point, but there is no overarching metaphor that runs throughout the poem. She is more realistic here, describing what type of a person she is and why her declaration of love is one that can be counted upon. She names it "Modern Declaration" probably because her metaphors are drawn from modern life - wars, politics, clergy, critics, chiropractors, job interviews - these references are starkly different from her usual nature metaphors and references to ancient myth. They are modern and they are plainly stated. The last part of the poem connects us back to the first line and pulls out the simple statement behind the elongated verse: "I have loved very few things in my life but I have always been true to them, so when I say I love you, I mean forever."
It could be seen as making a case for her own devotion but I think there is more to it than that. She acknowleges the cares and concerns of modern life and says that yes, these exist, but my love for you is better than that.
Its not flowery or passionate, but I think that this may perhaps be the most romantic poem Vincent ever published.
I, having loved ever since I was a child a few things, never having
wavered
In these affections; never through shyness in the houses of the
rich or in the presence of clergymen having denied these
loves;
Never when worked upon by cynics like chiropractors having
grunted or clicked a vertebra to the discredit of those loves;
Never when anxious to land a job having diminished them by a
conniving smile; or when befuddled by drink
Jeered at them through heartache or lazily fondled the fingers of
their alert enemies; declare
That I shall love you always.
No matter what party is in power;
No matter what temporarily expedient combination of allied
interests wins the war;
Shall love you always.
(From "Huntsman, What Quarry?" 1939)
Seeing as it is St. Valentine's day, I thought it fitting to share one of Millay's few poems about lasting love. In this poem she makes use of a few metaphors to make her point, but there is no overarching metaphor that runs throughout the poem. She is more realistic here, describing what type of a person she is and why her declaration of love is one that can be counted upon. She names it "Modern Declaration" probably because her metaphors are drawn from modern life - wars, politics, clergy, critics, chiropractors, job interviews - these references are starkly different from her usual nature metaphors and references to ancient myth. They are modern and they are plainly stated. The last part of the poem connects us back to the first line and pulls out the simple statement behind the elongated verse: "I have loved very few things in my life but I have always been true to them, so when I say I love you, I mean forever."
It could be seen as making a case for her own devotion but I think there is more to it than that. She acknowleges the cares and concerns of modern life and says that yes, these exist, but my love for you is better than that.
Its not flowery or passionate, but I think that this may perhaps be the most romantic poem Vincent ever published.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Above These Cares
Above these cares my spirit in calm abiding
Floats like a swimmer at sunrise, facing the pale sky;
Peaceful, heaved by the light infrequent lurch of the heavy wave serenely sliding
Under his weightless body, aware of the wide morning, aware of the gull on the red buoy bedaubed with guano, aware of his sharp cry;
Idly athirst for the sea, as who should say:
In a moment I will roll upon my mouth and drink it dry.
Painfully, under the pressure that obtains
At the sea's bottom, crushing my lungs and my brains
(For the body makes shift to breathe and after a fashion flourish
Ten fathoms deep in care,
Ten fathoms deep in an element denser than air
Wherein the soul must perish)
I trap and harvest, stilling my stomach's needs;
I crawl forever, hoping never to see
Above my head the limbs of my spirit no longer free
Kicking in frenzy, a swimmer enmeshed in weeds.
(From "Wine From These Grapes" 1934)
This is an excellent example of Millay's late work. Mature, quiet, full of metaphor but not overflowing, her poetry took a much more subtle, thoughtful turn in her later years. She had gained a great deal of experience, both in the literary world and her personal life. Many losses had touched her and she wrote a great deal about death throughout her lifetime, and the cumulative toll of these losses aged her. In 1934, at the age of 42, she was not writing love poems but poems about mankind. "Wine From These Grapes," the collection this poem comes from, also contains a set of sonnets called "Epitaph for the Race of Man," which addressed the human condition and broke from her tradition of writing mostly nature and love poetry.
"Above These Cares" paints a vivid picture of the spirit at peace even while the mind must be troubled with daily cares. The first few lines of this poem seem to evoke such a sense of complete and perfect peace. And the wish she ends with is one that I think most people make. That we may have within us a quiet calm even when we are forced to wrestle with our daily realities of stresses and demands. That we might feel that some part of ourselves is still floating "like a swimmer at sunrise" no matter our present circumstances.
Floats like a swimmer at sunrise, facing the pale sky;
Peaceful, heaved by the light infrequent lurch of the heavy wave serenely sliding
Under his weightless body, aware of the wide morning, aware of the gull on the red buoy bedaubed with guano, aware of his sharp cry;
Idly athirst for the sea, as who should say:
In a moment I will roll upon my mouth and drink it dry.
Painfully, under the pressure that obtains
At the sea's bottom, crushing my lungs and my brains
(For the body makes shift to breathe and after a fashion flourish
Ten fathoms deep in care,
Ten fathoms deep in an element denser than air
Wherein the soul must perish)
I trap and harvest, stilling my stomach's needs;
I crawl forever, hoping never to see
Above my head the limbs of my spirit no longer free
Kicking in frenzy, a swimmer enmeshed in weeds.
(From "Wine From These Grapes" 1934)
This is an excellent example of Millay's late work. Mature, quiet, full of metaphor but not overflowing, her poetry took a much more subtle, thoughtful turn in her later years. She had gained a great deal of experience, both in the literary world and her personal life. Many losses had touched her and she wrote a great deal about death throughout her lifetime, and the cumulative toll of these losses aged her. In 1934, at the age of 42, she was not writing love poems but poems about mankind. "Wine From These Grapes," the collection this poem comes from, also contains a set of sonnets called "Epitaph for the Race of Man," which addressed the human condition and broke from her tradition of writing mostly nature and love poetry.
"Above These Cares" paints a vivid picture of the spirit at peace even while the mind must be troubled with daily cares. The first few lines of this poem seem to evoke such a sense of complete and perfect peace. And the wish she ends with is one that I think most people make. That we may have within us a quiet calm even when we are forced to wrestle with our daily realities of stresses and demands. That we might feel that some part of ourselves is still floating "like a swimmer at sunrise" no matter our present circumstances.
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