And I – Am Watching as the Birds Go Flying Home: Siegfried Sassoon Sings

The end of World War One was a glorious time. While there are several endings to the war (the armistice being one in 1918, and the treaty of Versailles in 1919), celebration was ringing in the air. Siegfried Sassoon writes in his poem, “Everyone Sang,” about how wonderful it is for the war to be finally over. There are still pangs of the past in everyone’s ears, but, to Sassoon, they have “[d]rifted away” (9).

Sassoon begins the poem with everyone starting to sing. It is a great image, especially when Sassoon likens the delight that it brings him to the freedom that “prisoned birds must find” (2). At the end of the poem, Sassoon says that “Everyone / Was a bird,” so when the reader looks at the poem as a whole, different parts take on another context (9-10). The prison that these birds were contained in was the war. They were stuck there, fighting, losing each other and dieing. Once this war ended, however, they were released like birds that have been kept in a small holding cell. The imagery is magnificent. The joy expressed by these soldier and their families and the people of the countries they were fighting for are exuberant. The same energy expressed when a bird flies from a cage is put into the sound of this very song. The birds fly “on—on—and out of sight,” never to look back on war again (5). When the poem was written, no one wanted to head to war again. Sassoon wrote of the glorious end to World War I in hopes that there would never be another. The last line states that “the singing will never be done,” but sadly, barely two decades pass before their song is interrupted (10).

Sassoon makes more allusions to the final end of the war throughout the poem. “Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted,” he says” [a]nd beauty came like the setting sun” (6-7). When the sun sets, it is a beautiful event. Sassoon compares the sun setting to the end of the war. They are both beautiful things. The voices that he hears, the voices of joy and delight, bring so much beauty. Such a beautiful sight that his “heart was shaken with tears,” and even “horror / [d]rifted away” (8-9). Everything is at peace now. The war has ended, and the sunset is beautiful. The song they are singing will go on forever. This poem serves a very hopeful image of the future as well. Sassoon has seen the horrors of this war and knows that no one would want to do that again.

And You May Ask Yourself, Am I Right…Am I Wrong: T. S. Eliot’s Love Song

“The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock” is one of T. S. Eliot’s greatest poems and something to be admired. Eliot’s use of imagery throughout the poem is detailed and fascinating. While not as interesting as the rest of the poem, one of the first parts, rhetorically, that catches ones eye is not the rhyme scheme or stanza breaks, but his use of imagery and metaphor in the third stanza. Eliot is able to make the reader believe the fog that settles into the streets is cat like without ever actually calling it a cat. He brilliantly depicts the fog as it “rubs its back on the window-panes” and “rubs its muzzle on the window-panes” (15-16). Giving the fog these animalistic attributes helps to show how lazily it lingers in the streets and eventually settles. The fog didn’t settle though, instead it “curled once about the house, and fell asleep,” much like a cat would do (22). Eliot is able to capture the movement of the cat and metaphorically transpose it to that of the fog.

The next time Eliot gives animal like characteristics to inanimate objects in his poem, is on line 75. Eliot beings the stanza with:

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep … tired … or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. (75-78)

Again, Eliot describes the afternoon as if it were a cat or a dog lounging about the house. He continually brings the image of nature to the poem by liking it to an animal. Evening and afternoon are asleep as they are pet by long fingers. It is a creepy image to picture in the readers mind, but important none-the-less. Eliot’s use of giving animalistic attributes to the fog and afternoon show how the day works to his character in the poem. Things don’t just happen around him, they are lazily lulled to sleep and stroke. Nature is manipulated by time that Eliot has created himself. He gives the fog a mind, the mind of a cat. He gives the afternoon a master to help it fall sleep and lounge on the floor. The afternoon doesn’t just turn into evening; it gets tired and decides to lie down.

Eliot goes beyond what is sometimes understandable. His many allusions to classical works make it difficult to understand some of the references, and even once referenced, the reader is lost in his mind. It could be difficult for readers to differentiate between brilliance and insanity, and sometimes that seems to be what is happening in these poems. The book mentions a little bit as to what this poem is about, and I can understand where it is coming from. A lot of what happens in the poem is confusion. The dead ends are reopened and then closed again. Allusions to classical works and questions that run throughout our heads everyday are a plenty in this poem. Prufrock is just an average man who and this is a look inside his head. Like the book says, “Prufrock, like modern European humanity whom he represents, is unable to penetrate the thick husk of habit, custom, and cliché to arrive at something substantial” (1192). The poem is supposed to take the reader on a journey (“let us go then, you and I” (1)), but in the end, Eliot leaves us with Prufrock’s musings on mermaids and such. The poem is hard to penetrate by one look, and even his unique take on nature is not enough to crack open some of the stanzas. There are allusions to parties (“in the room the women come and go / talking of Michelangelo” (13-14, 35-36)) that add to, I would guess, the custom and habit of the modern European. Either a lot is lost on the fact that time has moved on, or there are too many layers present in this poem for the reader to decipher.

But First, I’ll Walk in Circles Round You: William Buttler Yeats Muses on the Second Coming of Helen

William Butler Yeats wrote his poem, “No Second Troy,” about the want for a connection to Maude Gonne that he, or any other man, could never have. Many other men wrote about Gonne including the critic M. L. Rosenthal. Gonne had committed her life to politics instead of love, and it seemed impossible for her to have a relationship build out of love and desire for her mate (1115). Her life was consumed by her fervent patriotism, and declined Yeats offer of marriage and instead married a soldier (1115). Yeats includes in his poem many allusions to her fierce political involvement and also allusions to Helen of Troy. The title of the poem shows Yeats wanting to not start a second Trojan war over this beauty. It would seem to be impossible, considering Yeats was not jealous of another man, but of Gonne’s political fanaticism (1115).

Yeats begins the poem asking “[w]hy should I blame her that she filled my days / [w]ith misery” (1-2). The next few lines include a series of questions heavily focusing on Gonne’s political influence. From the poem, the reader can gather and assume a few things about Gonne. She was, in fact, heavily associated with politics. She also seemed to have talked to people about rising up against others and revolting (“hurled little streets upon the great” (4)), or at least promoting the idea. She had times with the Easter Rising, so she must have been behind the idea in some fashion (1115). This poem was written eight years before the actually event, so she must have been connected to the idea sometime before or been in an activist group. Yeats mentions “[h]ad they but courage equal to desire” in regards to the “little streets,” which shows that maybe she was more of an influence than the reader thinks (4-5). Perhaps Yeats gives her more credit than is due, since he was full of this unrequited love.

Yeats continues with more questions in the second half. He focuses on what could have made this ok for her to do. He asks “[w]hat could have made her peaceful with a mind / [t]hat nobleness made simple as a fire?” (6-7). I will admit that I do not understand what Yeats is asking. Is the same thing that made her peaceful the same thing that made nobleness simple as fire? Her beauty is also a part of the discussion, since she was very beautiful as well. “With beauty like a tightened bow,” Yeats says, “a kind / [t]hat is not natural in an age like this” (8-9). Yeats praises her beauty, almost calling it other worldly. He ends by asking what else could she have done, being so beautiful and easy about the situation. She was absorbed by her patriotism and had to weigh between politics and her relationships. So “[w]as there another Troy for her to burn?” Yeats asks (12). Was it Ireland? Yeats could not launch an attack on politics, so there was nothing he could do except sit back and watch. He tried to act, but was left with nothing except unrequited love.

The Sound of Gunfire Off in the Distance, I’m Getting Used to it Now: Wilfred Owen’s War Poetry

Wilfred Owen’s poetry, comprised during his sixteen month stint at a rehabilitation hospital during World War I, has not only been influential to other poets, but also to the public’s perspective of the world of war (1100). When World War I broke out in 1914, many countries were ready to stand up for what they believed in. Owen enlisted with the Artist’s Rifles in 1915 and was shipped off to France to fight in the Great War the following year as a lieutenant (1100). In his poem, Dulce Et Decorum Est (Sweet and Filling it is), Owen details to happenings of a fox hole and its soldiers during a raid.

Owen begins with a description of his fellow soldiers in the first person plural. His descriptions of the men put horrid images into the reader’s heads as they get a true glimpse into what it means to fight for one’s country. He likens the soldiers to “beggars” and “hags” as they “[curse] through the sludge” (1-2). These conditions are even more awful that anything a beggar or hag, which are two of the lowest forms of living we know, would have. This goes to show just how horrid a condition they were in. Owen says that the “[m]en marched asleep,” as if they were a horde of zombies (5). Owen’s inclusion of words like “limped” and “drunk with fatigue,” are mimicked by the last four lines of the stanza where sentences begin and end in the middle of the line giving the poem a swaggering effect because of its rhyme scheme (6-7).

The next stanza drops the first person plural in favor of first person singular, as Owen describes specific scene that takes place in the bunker. The opening line, “Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!” draws the reader into the fray (9). The alliteration in “fumbling, / [f]itting” helps to add to the scene a certain feeling of immediacy in their need to protect themselves (9-10). The horrible sight that Owen describes next is enough to make cringe in disgust:

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or time…

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. (11-14).

When Owen brings the first person singular into the poem, it makes a huge impact. For the first time the reader can feel the pain of Owen as he watches his fellow solider drown in the sea of gas. The passage is so elegantly composed that there seems to be some sort of ironic beauty in the passing of this soldier. It is the next two lines, separated by a break in the poem, that really encompass the whole first person of Owen’s piece.

Since Owen has set up the scene from behind is gas mask, the next two lines bring the image to a complete visionary masterpiece. “In all my dreams,” Owen says, “before my helpless sight, / He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning” (15-16). Owen stands helpless as his fellow soldier passes away in his arms, choking on the gas that was just thrown into their camp. Owen’s first person view takes the reader to a new level of gruesome war imagery. In short, war is hell, and Owen wants to make that clear to his readers.

The last stanza includes the line that the poem gets its title from. Owen begins with “[i]f in some smothering dreams you too could pace…” and then includes more grueling detail that followed the death of the gassed soldier. He sets up the last stanza perfectly, leaving the reader with a sort of haunting last plea to not continue the tradition of praising one’s fatherland when it comes to serving and fighting for war. Owen uses a line for Horace’s Odes: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori (translates to “sweet and fitting it is to die for your fatherland”). Owen refers to this as “[t]he old lie” (27). This little glimpse into one event in his life is enough to hopefully warrant his readers giving up the old saying. To Owen, nothing is worth what he had to endure. He eventually was killed in battle several months after leaving the rehabilitation hospital. It surprises me that he would go back after these poems he wrote, but I guess he had no choice

I’m Walking a Line—I’m Thinking About Empty Motion: George Bernard Shaw Picks on his Empty Readers

For such a talented writer, Shaw had quite the cynical opinion of his readers. After writing the entirety of Pygmalion, he decided to write the “sequel,” which he believes to be more needed than the preface he writes (1005). Shaw also must have had quite the ego, for it seems he views himself as a “hero” for including an “energetic phonetic enthusiast” as the “hero of a popular play” (1005). While this may be rather egotistic, it is still important. Shaw’s view of his fellow English speakers was not very high, but it goes to show that he does care. He wrote a play about learning the language when he wrote Pygmalion which is a great idea and in his eyes quite helpful to his readers. In a way this was like an instruction guide to the English to get them to think about language. Shaw writes in his into that “[t]he English have no respect for their language, and will not teach their children to speak it” (1005). In order for Shaw to write this play correctly, he had to study the way that people spoke. The character or Liza has to speak poorly, and must be taught to properly speak English by Professor Higgins and Pickering. Shaw did his homework for this, and because it was something that he was interested in, it was easier for him to do. Even though the preface (which he said he didn’t need but I believe to be more important than the sequel) mocks the English for their poor use of their language. What I find interesting though, is that Shaw berates his readers for not having a grasp on their language yet he thinks “the reformer we need most today” is a character from a play (1005). If the audience he is speaking to cannot use the language correctly, how are they supposed to read and understand the point he is trying to make through his play? When he says “it is impossible for an Englishman to open his mouth without making another Englishman despise him,” does he include himself (1005)? Perhaps the audience is not insulted by these accusations, but inspired to change. They will read his work, and they will learn. According to his “sequel,” Shaw sees more problems than just the language.

After the last act of Pygmalion, Shaw writes, what he calls, a sequel. It starts off, much like the preface, with a slight at the people who are reading the play. While his assertion is very valid and I completely agree with him, it just seems a little harsh. He begins by saying that the sequel would “hardly need telling if our imagination s were not so enfeebled by their lazy dependence on the ready-mades and reach-me-downs of the ragshop in which Romance keeps its stock of ‘happy endings’ to misfit stories” (1063). What Shaw said may be true, and possibly truer today than it was when he originally wrote the play. Shaw believes that people have lost their imagination because of diluted Romance tales with silly endings. He is a far superior writer than any riffraff that would be writing such a thing, and he needs to include a nine page sequel to his already complete play. Shaw assumes way too much about his reader. Even if it is true, it is hard to believe that with this attitude, he was able to become one of the greatest modern English writers.

Hope For an Answer Some Day: The Thrush’s Song

Thomas Hardy’s brilliantly composed poem, “The Darkling Thrush,” explores a speaker’s view of a dark, hopeless world that is illuminated by the sweet song of a bird. Despite the harsh outlook that Hardy sets out to make in his poem, there is, for some reason, this thrush that has reason to sing. Hardy starts by illustrating the speaker’s whereabouts:

I lent upon a coppice gate

When Frost was spectre-grey

And Winter’s dregs made desolate

The weakening eye of day. (1-4)

Hardy uses words like “desolate” and “weakening” to describe the surroundings. This rather harsh vocabulary sets a mood that is rather dark and bleak; a land without much hope for the inhabitants. The next four lines contain more images of despair and hopelessness including words like “tangled,” “broken,” and “haunted” (5-7). One of the best images is of “[t]he tangled bine-stems [that] scored the sky / [l]ike strings of broken lyres,” because not only does it describe the scenery he is seeing as bleak, the image itself is of destruction and sadness (5-6). Mankind does not walk around the world, rather they “haunt” the night the night and the only thing that they can seek refuge with are “their household fires” (7-8). All over there is a sense of dreariness that hangs over this world. The next stanza does not present a much better image either.

Even the earth itself is described as a “corpse outleant” with his “crypt the cloudy canopy, / [t]he win his death lament” (9-10).The earth’s landscape is no more than a dead body trying to escape it’s coffin. The speaker’s surroundings are dead. Any sign of growth or life has seemed to vanish from thin air and, according the speaker “every spirit upon earth?” is as “fervourless as I” (15-16). The speaker is not the only one out there to be affected by the pain and death of the earth now. In this time of lifeless dark, however, there is one sign of hope.

The speaker hears the “full-hearted evensong / of joy illimited” from “an aged thrush” (19-21). This thrush, one that is “frail, gaunt and small,” has enough love for this world to sing still (21). The gloom of this trodden world is not enough to keep him down. The speaker does not see any reason why such a song should be sang at this time, but this thrush sees a lot to sing about. While the reader does not hear the song, Hardy’s juxtaposition of the response to the song and the response of the song is enough for the reader to understand just how powerful this song is. Upon hearing this song, the language of the poem drastically changes from that of despair and darkness, to words like “ecstatic,” “happy,” and “blessed” (26, 30-31).

The reader can sense the confusion from the speaker, for he just spent two stanzas describing the bleakness of where he is, yet this thrush is bold enough to sing a song full of hope. It is unclear as to whether or not the thrush’s song is enough to help the speaker, but it certainly starts the speaker wondering about the possibility of hope, even if it is not readily present.

And the Future is Certain, Give Us Time to Work it Out: Gerard Manley Hopkins Speaks of God’s Grandeur

After becoming an ordained Jesuit priest, Gerard Manley Hopkins went on to write religious poetry that would speak to many people, asking important questions and touching upon important details (773). In “God’s Grandeur,” Hopkins begins by addressing God’s magnificent power and how it will enrich our world. Hopkins says that “[t]he world will be charged” with God and his power, which is a proclamation of God being the creator of all (1). On one hand it could mean that the world will be full or Gods grandeur, but it could also mean that it is the Earth job, or the Earth has been given the task of receiving God’s grandeur. This speaks to Hopkins connection with God and his beliefs, saying that God had plans for this Earth. Hopkins explains that “[i]t will flame out, like shining from shook foil,” giving it a powerful lightning like effect on the world, taking it by storm (2). This imagery helps to show that even though the earth is charged with grandeur, it will still be very powerful none-the-less. While line two emphasizes how God’s grandeur will spread out all over the world like lighting or a flame, line three touches on its glorious power as “[i]t gathers to greatness, like the ooze of oil / [c]rushed” (3-4). Hopkins sees all of this power that God has over the world, and he wonders why the people do “not reck his rod?” (4). God can strike the world with grandeur, which encompasses both good and destructiveness. Once Hopkins establishes the connection between God’s grandeur and the people of the charged earth, he takes a look at what they have done in the past and why he has come to this conclusion of them not heeding God’s supreme power.

Hopkins uses some intense diction to prove his point in the second stanza. By using words like “trod,” “seared,” “bleared,” “smeared,” “toil,” “smudge,” and “smell,” Hopkins effectively brings negatives images to mind (5-7). In order for Hopkins point to be made, that is that God is more powerful than all and that nature is going to be pure and ever lasting because God made it, he must present the evil, dirtiness of humans. Humans are tainting the earth, it would seem, and trying to use up nature. They move all around the world, messing up whatever their feet land on and making it unholy. That doesn’t matter though, because God is much bigger than that.

The last stanza begins with the reassurance of God’s awesome power: “And for all this, nature is never spent / There lives the dearest freshness deep down things” (9-10). Despite all of the treading that generations have committed all over the earth that God created, nature will live on as well as God’s love. The last image that Hopkins presents is of the Holy Ghost looming over the world: “Because the Holy Ghost over the bent / World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings” (13-14). The last image, while in a way reassuring, is rather dark. The world has the Holy Ghost to watch over it, but it looms over in a very ominous manner. Perhaps this is God showing that he is still on earth, watching and keeping guard, but does not approve of what is happening. Nature will still live on no matter what, and God will watch over us. While the Holy Ghost is brooding, he still has a “warm breast” and “bright wings” to welcome us back (14). Hopkins view of the world here is not terribly bright, but he knows that God is on his side, so no matter how poorly humans may behave and how poorly they take care of the earth, God will be present, waiting to accept us back in his arms.