Gay Birds Dancing
The feet of dancing words
Tip lightly down the path
Dawn sprayed and all new
In their sheen of glory.
Dapple dreams spill
Luster on the day’s memory
Of old rocks with brown moss
Baking in celestial time.
Fog covers the toad
And moistens the road
To better nights
Where glee dwells.
The notions of gay birds
Lay their folly like seed
On the prancing herds
Of free dancing words.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”
Returning to the melancholy character in sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee,” as she has so often maintained, the speaker contrasts her light-hearted childhood’s response with her serious maturity.
Introduction and Text of Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”
The character speaking in Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee” from Sonnets from the Portuguese has returned to her melancholy attitude. Now she is contrasting her happy, carefree childhood years to her very stern and serious life as a mature adult.
The speaker however is addressing her belovèd, imploring him to consider how important he is to her. As earnest, obedient, and steadfast as she was as a child, now her constancy with her belovèd is even more in evidence. The speaker continues to build her case for deserving the love of such an accomplished man, whom she considers to be much above her own station in life.
Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”
With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee
As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—
Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?
When called before, I told how hastily
I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
To run and answer with the smile that came
At play last moment, and went on with me
Through my obedience. When I answer now,
I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
Yet still my heart goes to thee—ponder how—
Not as to a single good, but all my good!
Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
That no child’s foot could run fast as this blood.
Commentary on Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”
Returning to the melancholy character she has so often maintained, the speaker contrasts her light-hearted childhood’s response with her serious maturity.
First Quatrain: The Necessity of Consistency
With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee
As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—
Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?
The pensive speaker professes a need to be consistent; thus, she repeats the word “same” three times in three lines. She is of the “same heart” as she was earlier in her lifetime. She is called by “[her] name. But she is unsure about “life’s strategy.” She is even “perplexed and ruffled” by it.
The speaker hopes to convince herself that love has merely continued to flow into around her life. She also demands from her new love relationship a constant heart as she lovingly and gently makes demands on her belovèd.
Second Quatrain: The Obedient One
When called before, I told how hastily
I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
To run and answer with the smile that came
At play last moment, and went on with me
Earlier in her lifetime, the melancholy speaker had played the obedient one, coming when called, dropping her “flowers” or leaving off her “game.” She ran to answer and even “with a smile” she appeared. Such behavior continued because of her dedication to obedience.
The speaker needs to be always consistent in her emotional responses. The static melancholy that she has experienced has programmed her to need a steady environment, even if she must create it from fragments of memory and emotional responses from the past.
First Tercet: Adult Life Different Details
Through my obedience. When I answer now,
I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
Yet still my heart goes to thee—ponder how—
Now the specific details of life are a bit different. Instead of games and flowers, she answers from the position of having dropped “a grave thought” or a “break from solitude.” But her heart goes now always to the belovèd. She spills out a command before venturing on, telling her beloved to “ponder how . . . .”
Even though the details of her adult life are different, her emotional responses are essentially the same. Her same heart-responses continue to guide her. Her new love relationship has become even more important to her than any relationship before.
Second Tercet: From Childhood to Adulthood
Not as to a single good, but all my good!
Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
That no child’s foot could run fast as this blood.
The speaker then concludes that the good her beloved has done her is not one in one single area but in “all my good!” She asks her beloved to understand that as fleet foot as she was at obedience as child, she is much faster at running to her belovèd than she could have ever been in her earlier life.
The speaker’s blood now runs faster and with more passion than ever her foot did as a child. As important to her as were her earlier loves, her new belovèd has become even more vital to her life.
The speaker’s melancholy seems to be desperate for her lover to grasp his importance to her. Thus, she continues to compare and contrast her life’s environments from childhood to maturity.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”
In sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear,” the speaker relives a happy event of her childhood after her belovèd calls her by her childhood nickname. She is taking every opportunity to experience joyful feelings, after suffering through deep melancholy for most of her life.
Introduction and Text of Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”
In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”from Sonnets from the Portuguese, the speaker encourages her belovèd to call her by her childhood “pet-name” because it reminds her of a happy time in her life. She appears to be taking pains to remain in a positive frame of mind.
The speaker is not only composing a loving tribute to her belovèd, but she is also revealing her journey from psychological misery to mental and physical happiness in a relationship.
Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”
Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
The name I used to run at, when a child,
From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,
To glance up in some face that proved me dear
With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear
Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled
Into the music of Heaven’s undefiled,
Call me no longer. Silence on the bier,
While I call God—call God!—So let thy mouth
Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south,
And catch the early love up in the late.
Yes, call me by that name,—and I, in truth,
With the same heart, will answer and not wait.
Reading of Sonnet 33
Commentary on Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”
In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear,” the speaker is reliving a happy event of her childhood after her belovèd calls her by her childhood nickname.
First Quatrain: A Memory from Childhood
Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
The name I used to run at, when a child,
From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,
To glance up in some face that proved me dear
The speaker addresses her belovèd; she exclaims, “Yes, call me by my pet-name!”—which indicates that he has, perhaps out-of-the-blue, called her by that name. Her reaction seems to surprise her, and she encourages him to continue to call her by that name.
The surprised speaker remembers that as a child a family member (or some other person whom she loved and respected) would call her by her pet-name to come from whatever she was playing so innocently as children are wont to do.
And she would then come running, leaving behind a pile of flowers that she had gathered. The speaker, as that child she is now remembering, would look up into the pleasant face of the one who had called her and feel that she was cherished as she saw that love was beaming from the eyes of that person.
Second Quatrain: The Silence of the Departed
With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear
Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled
Into the music of Heaven’s undefiled,
Call me no longer. Silence on the bier,
The speaker reports that she misses those sweet beloved voices that called to her, for now those voice are silent and are residing in “Heaven,” from where they can no longer be heard calling to her. There is only silence emanated from a coffin-like locus. The speaker is once again drifting into her customary melancholy, decrying the silence that now emanates from the deceased.
The speaker does not identify who these “voices” are: it could be a mother, father, aunt, uncle, or any relative or friend by whom she felt loved when they called her by her pet-name. The speaker’s emphasis is on the feeling she is trying to recollect, however, not on the specific individual who engendered that fond feeling.
First Tercet: Appealing to God
While I call God—call God!—So let thy mouth
Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south,
Continuing in the melancholy vein, the speaker reveals that with those fond voices silent in death, she called on God in her grief. She emphasizes her appeal to God by repeating, “call God—call God!” The speaker then urges her belovèd to let those words fall from his lips—that same words in her pet-name that came from her belovèds who are now deceased.
As she asks him to do as her loving relatives had done and call her by her pet-name. She is being taken her back to a fond past memory. Her belovèd suitor is then “gather[ing] the north flowers to complete the south.” She metaphorically likens direction to time: north is past, south is present.
Second Tercet: Past Pleasantry, Present Passion
And catch the early love up in the late.
Yes, call me by that name,—and I, in truth,
With the same heart, will answer and not wait.
The emotional speaker adds that by hearing her present love speak those nostalgic words, the two loves coalesce and begin drawing together her past pleasantry with the present that now holds so much love for her.
Again the speaker exhorts him, “yes, call me by that name.” And she adds that she will respond to him, feeling the same love that she felt before—this love that will not allow her to procrastinate in her response to his fond gesture.
The Beautiful Mother
“I am Thy babe of eternity, safe in the cradle of Thine omnipresent bosom.”
—Paramahansa Yogananda
On this earth where dreams reign
And the True is mocked and damned,
The wide corridors of mirth shrink
To a ribbon as revelers fumble
And stumble, blindly seeking each
Poison-laced thrill. They frown and feint.
Thou wilt hold them in Thine arms
Until they can hold their own healed hearts.
Thou wilt balm each burn, dry each drop
Until they can walk in the sun of eternal smiles.
Thou wilt bring to them the fountain
Of Thine all-quenching living waters
Where dreams turn all golden
In the joy of Thy laughter.
Thou wilt spray their souls with eternal spring.
Giving Thee all they own to purchase eternal Bliss,
They will possess the Joy no tongue can pronounce.
Breaking the Coffee Habit: A Devotee’s Reflection in the Spirit of Paramahansa Yogananda
“The soul is ever-free. It is deathless because it is birthless. It cannot be regimented by the stars.”—Paramahansa Yogananda in Autobiography of a Yogi
There is a light within each human being that has never dimmed. It shone before your first sip of coffee and will blaze undimmed long after the last cup is set aside. This light is no fleeting glow borrowed from caffeine—it is the eternal flame of the Atman, the divine Self that the great guru Paramahansa Yogananda (Guruji*) devoted his life to revealing.
Though the soul itself remains ever-free—untouched by birth, death, or any compulsion—it is the mind, clouded by identification with the physical encasement (body), that feels bound. To release the subtle dependency on caffeine is to loosen the mind’s grip on external props, allowing the soul’s innate radiance to shine through unobstructed.
Liberation: Practicing Non-Attachment
Paramahansa Yogananda taught that the spiritual path is, at its essence, liberation from all bondages. Every habit, however mild, forms an invisible chain that restrains the mind’s will and veils the soul’s bliss. Vairagya—non-attachment—was for him not austere denial but a joyful turning toward God, peeling away artificial stimulations so the natural joy of the soul might emerge.
The morning reach for coffee whispers to the mind: “You are not enough. You need something outside to awaken, to be alert, to live.” Each conscious choice to set the cup aside answers with the authority of the Self (Soul): “I am sufficient. God’s energy sustains me. I need nothing but the Infinite.”
In this small act of detachment lies a direct practice of the renunciation Guruji praised as the foundation of lasting happiness. (See his “How to Free Yourself from Bad Habits” in The Divine Romance.)
Prana: The Divine Source of Vitality
Guruji offered his disciples something far more potent than any earthly brew: the science of prana, the cosmic life-force that animates all creation, the very breath of God flowing through every cell. Through his Energization Exercises, Hong-Sau and Om Techniques, and Kriya Yoga, he showed how to draw consciously upon this inexhaustible, cosmic vitality.
Caffeine provides only borrowed energy—stimulating yet depleting, agitating the nerves, inflaming emotions, and leaving behind the fatigue it momentarily masked. Prana, in contrast, restores, regenerates, and uplifts without rebound. To detach from caffeine is to make space for this greater gift. It is to declare to the Universe: “I am ready to receive Thine energy directly, without the veil of stimulants.”
Those who meditate deeply know the truth from experience: after genuine stillness comes an alertness and joy no cup could produce—a clear, steady luminosity of mind that calms rather than jangles, sustains without craving, and reveals the ever-new bliss of Sat-Chit-Ananda. What the mind once sought clumsily in a morning ritual was always a veiled longing for this divine state—available within, waiting to be claimed.
The Will: God’s Greatest Gift to the Mind
Yoganandaji held the human will in profound reverence as the soul’s instrument for mastery over body and senses. The greater the will, the greater the flow of energy. Every victory over a habit strengthens this divine faculty; every surrender dulls it.
Guruji recommends beginning with small disciplines, sustained with determination and devotion, for such discipline burns away dependency and forges the will in purifying fire. Yet he was ever tender and non-judgmental, counseling patience, humor, and prayer in moments of weakness.
When craving arises, sit quietly, breathe deeply, and inwardly call: “Divine Mother, fill me now with Your energy.” To transcend through such prayer is genuine alchemy—the mind’s transformation by grace.
The Body as Temple: Cultivating Sattva
Guruji regarded the physical encasement as a sacred temple hosting the soul for its earthly evolution. He guided toward sattvic living—purity, clarity, lightness—in diet, habits, and rest, while cautioning against rajasic influences that stir restlessness.
Caffeine, by its stimulating nature, is rajasic: it agitates the nervous system, disrupts emotional balance, and creates cycles of artificial highs and lows that hamper meditation and obscure the still, small voice within.
Letting go that stimulant honors the temple’s potential for steadiness. Devotees who make this shift often marvel at the results: moods even out, sleep deepens, morning meditation quiets, and the mind settles into God’s intended rhythm—where inner hearing becomes clear and natural.
Sacred Tradition: Offering Love to the Guru
In the sacred tradition of discipleship, giving up a cherished habit becomes an act of devotion—an offering laid at the Guru’s feet. It says, “I trust Thy guidance more than this craving.” Guruji taught that the Guru cherishes not perfection but sincere effort, the heart’s turning. (See “The Bad Man Who Was Preferred by God)
Each morning that you choose prana over stimulation, stillness over restlessness, the soul’s light over borrowed brightness, you place another garland before Guruji. In the silent ways of the Guru-disciple bond, he receives it and strengthens you for the next choice. Devotees quickly learn that by the grace of the Guru, all difficulties are resolved and all good things are possible.
A Personal Quip: My Quest for God
Since March 1978, I have walked this path charted by my Guru Paramahansa Yogananda and his organization Self-Realization Fellowship—meditating, praying, serving, studying under Guruji’s grace. I have made my humble attempts to offer as much as possible to this quest for God.
This one small, sacred surrender—to free my mind from yet another veil of dependency—lies well within my power. The same will that drew me to my Guru’s feet can gently break this last chain, allowing fuller realization of my ever-free soul.
I must follow this sacred path with greater trust and faith. I must strengthen it daily in meditation. I must know with certainty: the bliss tasted in my deepest meditations is the immortal energy that will sustain me and transform every craving into quiet, unshakable joy. The light within needs no fuel but God, the Divine Stimulant.
O Divine Belovèd! Let my mind’s clouds part, and let the light shine free.
—————
*Guruji is the reverential appellation that devotees use in addressing or referring to their beloved Guru; this is the appellation I personally prefer. Other devotees prefer referring to Paramahansa Yogananda as Master, who was and is the master over his human and divine Self.
Edwin Arlington Robinson’s “Richard Cory”
Edwin Arlington Robinson’s “Richard Cory” offers a fascinating portrayal of its subject—a rich, well-respected man commits suicide. This poems demonstrates that literal language virtually completely free from literary devices can function poetically.
Introduction with Text of “Richard Cory”
Readers are indeed shocked into questioning “why?” as in the final stanza they are accosted with the line delivering the message that Richard Cory one night, “Went home and put a bullet through his head.”
The question provoked by this act does not appear to have a definite answer, but it does convincingly imply that despite outward appearances and wealth, one may feel so empty inside that one prefers death to life.
The speaker represents all those neighbors who thought Richard Cory’s life was far superior to their own. However, it becomes clear that they had been led astray by outward appearance.
Had they been able to become acquainted with the inner life of the man they so admired, they might have discovered the specifics of Richard Cory’s existence. But for purposes of the poem, only the mystery is necessary; indeed, it is preferable because life is full of such mysteries.
Richard Cory
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Reading
Commentary on “Richard Cory”
Edwin Arlington Robinson’s “Richard Cory” renders its message in quite a literal poem, virtually devoid of any figurative language—appropriate for both the speaker and the subject of the poem.
First Stanza: The Richness of Literal Language
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
Although the poem employs no poetic device such as metaphor, symbol, or simile, its use of language is rich and full. The opening line exemplifies the richness: if Richard Cory “went down town,” then he had been uptown.
Stereotypically, being uptown indicates a neighborhood where the well-to-do lived. This dichotomy continues throughout the poem: a dichotomy of contrast between the wealthy and the less well off. The poem’s speaker is one of the less well off, those who thought of Richard Cory as being “richer than as king.”
Those “on the pavement” indicate the working class, apartment dwellers who struggled to survive, while Richard Cory moved in the circle of ladies and gentlemen—not just men and women who work hard for their meagre pittance.
Richard Cory was “a gentleman from sole to crown”—from his feet to his head. “Crown” is a pun, meaning top of the head as well as the head ornament of a king. “Crown” is, in fact, the only term in the poem that offers a slightly figurative use.
The poem functions quite well without any obvious figurative language. The fact that this poem remains quite literal demonstrates that literal language completely free from literary devices can function poetically.
Second Stanza: A Nice Man
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
Despite Richard Cory’s being so rich and kingly, the man was still a very nice human being. He did not snub people; he engaged pleasantly with them. The speaker, who is obviously obsessed with Richard Cory’s status, and no doubt a bit envious, would have expected Cory’s behavior to have been arrogant. But the opposite was true.
Still Cory’s appearance dazzled those who encountered him. He made the common folk a little uneasy when he spoke to them, even though he was affable and friendly and seemed to be happy. Those common folk seemed unable to identify with Cory simply because of the differences between the classes.
Richard Cory actually seems to have similar attributes to the folks who admired him. He likely shared their mores, education level, and interests, but he differed only because of his wealth. His admirers perceive Cory to be from a different “class.”
They would consider him high class as opposed to their middle or low classes. Even in a supposed “classless” American society, citizens have always made distinctions based on class which is normally based on wealth, rather than heredity.
What makes classes different in America is that citizens have the ability to move between classes. Those born rich may not remain so; and those born poor have the opportunity to rise.
Third Stanza: The Vacuousness of Envy
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
The speaker, likely because of his nervous admiration of Cory, exaggerates Cory’s wealth by claiming he was “richer than a king.” In addition to being financially successful, Cory was well educated.
He possessed knowledge, and he also possessed the grace with which to behave properly. The speaker and his milieu concluded that Richard Cory possessed everything a human being needed to be successful. They envied him; thus, they wanted to be Richard Cory.
As the poem progresses, however, it will be realized that such claims regarding Richard Cory must be taken only provisionally. It will become obvious that those “people on the pavement” have completely misread the qualities of Richard Cory, especially after learning of the wealthy, accomplished gentleman’s final act.
Fourth Stanza: Looks Can Be Deceiving
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
In the two opening lines of the last stanza of the poem, once again differences between the two socio-economic classes are dramatized. The working, struggling folk “on the pavement” worked and struggled so that one day they too could be like Richard Cory.
They worked, struggled, and complained. Then the irony of their complaining unfolds when this paragon of virtue that they had idolized and idealized “went home and put a bullet through his head.”
This act told them that looks can, indeed, be deceiving.
Dramatizing a Truth
The poem, “Richard Cory,” dramatizes a truth about life with all its appearances, contradictory evidence, and unexpected occurrences, confirming that life and human behavior, indeed, remain a mystery.
The poet has accomplished this achievement in a fine poem without one metaphor, simile, or other poetic device. The literal language is rich and deep and without nuance. It does its job like the people on the pavement, and it does it without gloss and glitter.
This lack of figurative or “poetic” language is not an anomaly; many fine poems do not rely on any figurative language such a metaphor, image, personification, simile, or other literary device.
The only requirement for a poem to function well is that the language be authentic and possess levels of truth. Readers must be able to identify with the claims beings made, even if such claims do not reflect the readers’ views or knowledge.
Simon and Garfunkel’s Song Based on “Richard Cory”
Simon and Garfunkel adapted the basic premise of this poem and fashioned it into a song that purports to fill in some information. The song actually transforms the story into a more macabre situation than is offered in the poem. For example, the chorus remarks,
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be Richard Cory.
The chorus is repeated after every verse, which is the tradition for songs. However, because that particular chorus is repeated verbatim even after Cory put the bullet in his head, it is jarring and, at first, seems nonsensical. Why would the narrator continue to wish to be Richard Cory even after Cory killed himself?
One might assume that the “people on the pavement” would have changed their minds about admiring and idolizing Richard Cory after he put a bullet through his head. The song seems to take another tack: because the narrator in the song finds his life so degrading, he wishes he could be like Richard Cory and also end his life.
The Exorcism
—inspired by Paramahansa Yogananda’s “In the Land Beyond My Dreams”
The earth is not our home.
Thou hast created us for better realms.
We have tied our souls
With strings of desires
And draped a veil of Maya
Over the only eye that truly sees.
The earth’s treasures
Cannot satisfy our souls
With their temporary pleasures.
Thou dost play hide & seek with our senses
Those clowns that entertain for a moment
Then vanish into dust as if they had never been.
This earth and all its peoples
Cannot add one inch of stature
To each shining, perfect soul
And though the brave and strong
Are often cowed by the weak and wrong,
Each Karma will correct each erring course
In time, in love with Thee.
This earth’s frenetic playground
Features folly and excitement
That each soul eventually must exorcise
From its ground of being.
While we play, life ebbs day by day.
Would that we learn to pray in the silence
Deep and pregnant with Thy essence
Until this phantom earth’s ills begin to fade away.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 32 “The first time that the sun rose on thine oath”
The speaker in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 32 finds her confidence first expanding and then shrinking again on her journey through her adventure to love.
Introduction and Text of Sonnet 32 “The first time that the sun rose on thine oath”
In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 32, the speaker once more struggles with her persistent lack of self-worth. However, the speaker finally decides that by choosing to devalue her own self-worth, at the same time, she is also assigning less value to her belovèd, an intolerable idea that she then attempts mightily to immediately correct.
Sonnet 32 “The first time that the sun rose on thine oath”
The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man’s love;—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.
Commentary on Sonnet 32 “The first time that the sun rose on thine oath”
The speaker in sonnet 32 finds her confidence first increasing and then shrinking again on her journey to her adventures in love.
First Quatrain: To Soon to Endure
The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
The first quatrain finds the speaker announcing that after her belovèd first pronounced his love for her, she became lodged in the sorrowful thought that this love might have come “too soon / And quickly tied” to endure for long.
The ensuing vow of love which was completed with the rising sun caused her to “look forward” to night time and the moon. She assumed that time of day would abstract her weakened possession of her new love situation.
This speaker is, of course, again doubting her ability to bring out such a love from this high-stationed man. The powerful feelings of negative self-worth seem to be permeating and leading her heart’s feelings and her head’s thought processes.
Second Quatrain: Come Quickly, Leave Quickly
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man’s love;—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
The speaker believes that if love comes too quickly, it will then be apt to leave just as quickly. She thus also emphasizes her sad thought that she does not believe she is entirely worthy of “such man’s love.” The speaker then likens herself to some “out-of-tune / Worn viol,” which implies that she possesses not enough gifts to play along side such “a good singer.”
The speaker deems that the good singer, represented in her accomplished poet/suitor, “would be wroth,” to let her accompany him. She suspects that her own lack of talent would besmirch that of her lover’s brilliant talents.
First Tercet: An Out-of-Tune Instrument
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
The speaker therefore suggests that her belovèd might have made a rash decision in picking her as his partner; thus, she thinks that she will be sent away, “at the first ill-sounding note.” However, the speaker then immediately shifts her gaze.
As the speaker still clings to her assessment of herself as an “out-of-tuned viol,” she goes on to maintain that she has not incorrectly evaluated herself, but she does believe that she has been mistaken about her belovèd’s possessions of knowledge, strength, and capability.
Second Tercet: Clinging to Inferiority
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.
Despite the fact that the speaker may be an out-of-tune musical instrument, her belovèd, who is a skillful master may possess the delicious ability of heralding forth from her damaged instrument, “perfect strains.”
The speaker’s belovèd after all possesses “master-hands.” She determines her acceptance, with a sufficient and thoroughly axiomatic bit of wit, as she states that, “great souls, at one stroke, may do and dote.”
The speaker’s timid thought and evaluation of her own inferiority remains so entrenched that she always seems to manage to cling to it. She implies that the great souls, who are capable of achieving great things, also possess the talent for “doat[ing]” on the things they love, despite any lack of worthiness those things may possess.
A Rugged Vision She Loved, Loved
“We cannot choose what we are free to love.” —from W. H. Auden’s “Canzone”
And now you breathe no more,
And hear her beating heart no more.
She continues writing her soul
In the mirror you held up—
A reflection easily shaken by the wind.
She revisions the winter you spent together,
Dragging your hearts through the snow,
A white play land where your poems
Pushed against one another,
And each bright sunlit day filled
Her mouth with fresh words of love
That she would write to you years later.
But after she wrote them,
You could not answer
Having moved to that place
Where fear catches in the throat,
And stops the screams,
And stops the sighs,
And stops the love,
Before its tone turns sound.
Where are you? Where are you?
She has cried, she saw you, she listened
To your words, she touched your face—
You, you, a rugged vision she loved, loved.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s speaker in sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word” continues to explore her self-doubt, as she seems to be reverting to her old melancholy ways of thinking.
Introduction and Text of Sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word”
The speaker in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word” from Sonnets from the Portuguese seems to be backsliding into her earlier cloud of self-doubt. Again, she seems to be questioning her good fortune at attracting such a fine belovèd suitor.
This always musing speaker has grown so accustomed to indulging in sorrow and melancholy that she continues to find it difficult to accept that she can now breathe the fresh air of love, faith, hope, and happiness. The speaker thus is continuing to examine her plight, and self-doubt seems to return to haunt her without relief.
Sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word”
Thou comest! all is said without a word.
I sit beneath thy looks as children do
In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through
Their happy eyelids from an unaverred
Yet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erred
In that last doubt! and yet I cannot rue
The sin most, but the occasion—that we two
Should for a moment stand unministered
By a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,
Thou dovelike help! and, when my fears would rise,
With thy broad heart serenely interpose:
Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies
These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those,
Like callow birds left desert to the skies.
Commentary on Sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word”
The speaker in sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word” is again exploring her self-doubt and sorrowful life. It does seem that melancholy must remain a part of her existence.
First Quatrain: Returning to Melancholy
Thou comest! all is said without a word.
I sit beneath thy looks as children do
In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through
Their happy eyelids from an unaverred
The speaker in sonnet 31 “Thou comest! all is said without a word” again finds herself rethinking one of her earlier episodes of doubt that return to her from time to time despite her growing confidence in the love of her belovèd suitor.
The speaker excitedly exclaims, “Thou comest!”—as if she is utterly surprised that he should return. She reports that neither speaks, and she sits in his gaze somewhat as children would do “in the noon-sun.”
Their souls are engaged and “tremble” at the “inward joy,” even though they hardly understand the meaning or eventual consequences of that joy. As is often the case with this speaker, she is somewhat taken aback by her own emotions.
Second Quatrain: Feeling Like a Prodigal
Yet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erred
In that last doubt! and yet I cannot rue
The sin most, but the occasion—that we two
Should for a moment stand unministered
The speaker feels as “prodigal” now as she has felt quite early in this budding relationship. As the reader has seen many times before, the speaker’s confidence waxes and wanes. First, she trusts the strength of this new love and then again a “doubt” will creep into her mind.
The speaker has begun to employ code words that hint of a marriage ceremony which she, no doubt, has difficulty believing will ever come to fruition. The speaker, indeed, wonders if the two of them will ever stand and take the vows of husband and wife.
First Tercet: A Pathetic Plea
By a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,
Thou dovelike help! and, when my fears would rise,
With thy broad heart serenely interpose:
The half-sorrowful speaker offers a pathetic plea, half to her belovèd and half to her own pride, begging that his love remain “near and close,” as she calls his assistance “dovelike.” The speaker now understands, however, that she will continue to experience those doubts, and likely her “fears would rise” repeatedly.
The speaker continues to assert that her belovèd has a “broad heart,” and she believes in his ability to remain stable, an eventuality which seems to give her a feeling of steadiness. The doubting speaker cannot trust her own ability to trust, but she can keep faith that her belovèd will remain strong enough to lift her out of her slough of constant doubt.
Second Tercet: The Simple Knowledge of Being Loved
Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies
These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those,
Like callow birds left desert to the skies.
Taking comfort in her belovèd’s strength and endurance, the speaker asserts that she will be able to endure life in the simple knowledge of being loved by such a strong soul. Again, speaking half to her belovèd and half to her own soul, the speaker likens her own soul to baby birds that have been left “to the skies.”
But as those “callow birds” are nurtured by “divine sufficiencies,” the speaker determines to strive to attain and keep the faith that will eventually lead her to her own self-sufficiency.
But the speaker will also continue to implore and glorify the relationship with her belovèd, in whose glow she will continue to bask as she proceeds on her journey toward love and fulfillment.
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