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Author: Linda Sue Grimes

  • Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “Sympathy”

    Image:  Paul Laurence Dunbar

    Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “Sympathy”

    The speaker of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “Sympathy” metaphorically elucidates, through the employment of a “caged bird,” the stifling condition of a human soul locked in a human body.

    Introduction with Text of “Sympathy”

    Although at the literal level, Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poem “Sympathy” commits the pathetic fallacy [1], it makes a useful and accurate statement about the confinement of the human soul as it becomes aware of its stifling condition of being “caged” in a physical body.

    In the fields of hard science, thinkers and researchers, who once insisted that the soul was only a religious construct or “an object of human belief” [2] are finally catching up with spiritual sages and avatars.

    Spiritual adepts from time immemorial in religious scripture from the major world religions, including Hinduism [3]  Christianity [4] and Islam [5], have explained that the soul, as a essential being of energy, is potentially capable of instantaneous flight to any location of its choice.  The soul grapples with the slow, earth-bound limitations put on it by living in a human body under cosmic delusion.

    Sympathy

    I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
    When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
    And the river flows like a stream of glass;
    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
    And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

    I know what the caged bird feels!
    I know why the caged bird beats his wing
    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
    For he must fly back to his perch and cling
    When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
    And they pulse again with a keener sting—

    I know why he beats his wing!
    I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
    When he beats his bars and he would be free;
    It is not a carol of joy or glee,
    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
    But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
    I know why the caged bird sings!

    Maya Angelou recites 

    Commentary on “Sympathy”

    The speaker of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “Sympathy” employs the metaphor of the “caged bird” to elucidate the machinations of the soul contending with a physical encasement.

    First Septet:  Unfortunate Knowledge

    I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
    When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
    And the river flows like a stream of glass;
    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
    And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

    The speaker begins by employing the pathetic fallacy, asserting that he understands the feelings of a bird in a cage.  He appends the interjection “Alas!”—indicating that that sensory knowledge is unfortunate.

    Scientifically, the fact remains that the assertion of knowing how the caged bird feels cannot be accurate. Science cannot ascertain that avians and humans “feel” in a comparable manner.  Nevertheless, poetic understanding can circumvent scientific facts, as they describe metaphorically ineffable knowledge.

    Dunbar’s employment of the pathetic fallacy ascends to a level from which it has the ability to elucidate the claimed truth.  Such an inference can be accepted as an appropriate comparison between a human soul incarnated in a human body and a “caged bird.”

    The speaker creates a catalogue of all the beauties of nature that a bird while caged cannot enjoy:  the bright sunshine, sloping hillsides, breezes through the new spring grass, streaming rivers running smooth and clear, the chirping songs of other avians, blossoms opening from buds emitting their “faint perfume.”

    Obviously, the bird in a cage must stay in a limited space; a creature bestowed by its Creator with the enviable capability of flying through the air becomes confined, limiting its movements drastically.

    The human heart and mind find it difficult to succumb to such limitations; thus, it seems nearly impossible to comprehend how the idea of placing bird in cage ever originated.  

    Still, birds in captivity do live longer [6]:  they are afforded a constant and safe food supply and remain protected from predators.  Nevertheless, the essence of human romanticism still craves and clings to the idea of a free ranging life for all living things.  

    To the very heart-core of humanity, it remains that living beings ought never become captives to other living beings.  And as that captivity is observed, only the dreadful aspect of such captivity pings in the consciousness humanity.

    Second Septet:  Bleeding for Freedom

    I know what the caged bird feels!
    I know why the caged bird beats his wing
    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
    For he must fly back to his perch and cling
    When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
    And they pulse again with a keener sting—

    In the second stanza, the speaker moves on to the direct negative affects of having a bird caged up, as he laments the activities of the poor avian.  This captive creature will “beat his wings” on the bars of the cage until they begin to bleed.

    After beating his wings to a bloody mess, the poor injured creature can move only onto his perch in the cage; he cannot seek solace in the open branches of nature to where the bird would rather flee.  

    The bird again suffers the wounds of incarceration in addition to the wounds of damaged, bloody wings.  The pain becomes ever more pronounced each time the bird tries to escape his confinement.  

    His memory of freedom may motivate him to continue to free himself, but his inability to access that freedom continues to force him to continue his attempts.  By nature, he must continue his bloody struggles against confinement.

    Third Septet:  Singing for Freedom

    I know why he beats his wing!
    I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
    When he beats his bars and he would be free;
    It is not a carol of joy or glee,
    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
    But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
    I know why the caged bird sings!

    The speaker now reiterates what has grown into a refrain; the human speaker knows why this caged bird continually beats his wings and bruises his breast on the hard bars of confinement.  The speaker also understands why the avian sings.  

    The poor singing creature does not sing prompted by “joy or glee.”  His song is not a carol but is instead a prayer of supplication to the Creator for deliverance from his captivity. The bird’s song is, in fact, a plea that the avian is flinging “upward to Heaven.”  Yet, the speaker only implies the reason for that plea.  

    It should become perfectly obvious the reason that this bird is singing.  He hopes that his plea, which is a prayer, will urge the heart of his sympathetic Creator to bring the creature release from his painful incarceration.

    The speaker finalizes his claim, “I know why the caged bird sings!”  With this repeated sentiment, the speaker wishes to make clear his understanding that the poor bird’s frustration is his own.  The speaker thus is offering “Sympathy” to this poor, caged avian.

    The Historical Aberration of Slavery and the Body-Caged Soul

    Human history [7] is replete with despicable institutions of slavery—a people taking another people captive to procure their labor and resources in order to profit the enslavers.

    The Romans [8] enslaved vast portions of the globe under the Roman Empire.  Muslims [9]  enslaved expansive areas of the Middle-East in their empire building era, which included the Ottoman Empire.

    According to Thomas Sowell [10], Rose and Milton Friedman Senior Fellow at Stanford University’s Hoover Institution,

    To me the most staggering thing about the long history of slavery — which encompassed the entire world and every race in it — is that nowhere before the 18th century was there any serious question raised about whether slavery was right or wrong. In the late 18th century, that question arose in Western civilization, but nowhere else. (my emphasis added)

    The list of slave owning societies goes on and on, from Biblical times to the present day in some areas of the world.  However, because of the relatively recent proximity to the enslavement of Africans on plantations in the United States, many history-deficient thinkers associate slavery solely with the American experience [11].

    And the repercussions of that evil institution still vibrate throughout twenty-first century America.

    Because the poet Paul Laurence Dunbar was black, readers may find it difficult to accept that this poem can be elucidating any issue other than black life in  the USA—both before and after the Civil War.  That narrowly interpreted version of the poem, however, limits the poem’s profundity. 

    If a black individual is denied by law or custom the ability to choose and follow his own path in life, his life is then circumscribe in such as way as to liken him to a bird in a cage. That fact cannot be disputed. 

    However, Dunbar’s achievement with his poem “Sympathy”is so much greater than the interpretation of a black life in a cage will allow.  Such a limitation may be even considered racist, as well as reductionist.

    Dunbar’s “Sympathy” expresses a cosmic—not merely cultural—truth. All human souls find representation in that poem—not just the soul of  black individuals. Every human soul that becomes aware of itself encased in a human body feels like that bird in a cage.

    Each human soul suffers the same suffocating confinement that the bird experiences because the bird and the soul are created to be far ranging, throughout the limitless sky of life.

    The human soul has been created by the Divine Creator to be an immortal, eternal entity, with the power and the ability to experience the limitless expanse of Omnipresence. The soul is meant to exist everlastingly without any bindings of flesh or mental trammels that would cage it or hem it round.

    Dunbar’s “Sympathy” features a useful description of the soul lodged in a human body-cage, employing metaphorically the caged bird. The poem’s achievement deserves to be celebrated because of its omnipresent universality and not merely read through a racial, temporal prism of culture.

    The Late Maya Angelou’s First Memoir

    Likely the line, “I know why the caged bird sings,” will be immediately recognized by many readers as the title of the late Maya Angelou’s first memoir.  Maya Angelou gives credit to Abbey Lincoln Roach [12] for titling her book; yet, they both neglect to mention the Dunbar poem, about which one would expect not only a reference but an exact quotation featuring the line. 

    To her credit, Angelou did acknowledge the existence of Dunbar’s poem, and she read an excerpt from it in a PBS interview [13].   Angelou also composed a piece, which she titled, “Caged Bird” [14].  Angelou’s piece sports a sing-song rime and rhythm, pleasing to the ear but lacking the spiritual profundity that Dunbar’s far-superior poem achieves.

    Sources

    [1] Editors. “Pathetic Fallacy.”  LitCharts. Accessed May 16, 2022.

    [2] Robert Lanza, M.D., “Does the Soul Exist? Evidence Says ‘Yes’.”  Psychology Today.  December 21, 2011.

    [3]  Curators. “The Soul.”  Royal Path of Self-Realization.  Accessed September 12, 2023

    [4]  Curators. “50 Bible Verses about The Soul.”  The Bible: Knowing Jesus.  Accessed May 16, 2022.

    [5]  Editors. “Soul in Islamic Philosophy.” Muslim Philosophy.  Accessed September 12, 2023.

    [6]  John C. Mittermeier.  “The Surprisingly Complex Science of Bird Longevity.”  American Bird Converancy.  January 29, 2021.

    [7] Editors.  “Slave Societies.”  Encyclopedia Britannica. Accessed September 12, 2023.

    [8]   Mark Cartwright.  “Slavery in the Roman World.”  World History Encyclopedia.  November 1, 2013.

    [9]  Editors.  “Slavery in Islam.” BBC.  September 7, 2009.

    [10]  Thomas Sowell.  “Ending Slavery.”  Jewish World Review. February, 8, 2005.

    [11]  Curators.  “The Real History of Slavery by Thomas Sowell.”  Internet Archive.  Accessed September 12, 2023.

    [12]Editors. “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, page 1.” Read From Net.  Accessed September 12, 2023

    [13]  Curators. “Maya Angelou reads from Paul Dunbar’s poem “Sympathy”?.” PBS. Aired March 28, 2017.

    [14]  Maya Angelou.  “Caged Bird.”  Poetry Foundation.  Accessed September 12, 2023.

    Image:  Paul Laurence Dunbar  SCAD Museum of Art

  • D. H. Lawrence’s “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson”

    Image:  D. H. Lawrence 

    D. H. Lawrence’s “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson”

    In D. H. Lawrence’s “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson,” an educator is dramatizing the lackluster performance of the students in the classroom.  The teacher’s strength is being sapped by many vain attempts to teach pupils who refuse to learn.

    Introduction with Text of “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson”

    D. H. Lawrence’s published collection titled Love Poems includes the poem, “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson,” in the section labeled “The Schoolmaster.”  Two other sections of the collection are “Love Poems” and “Dialect Poems.” The collection of poems, published in New York by Mitchell Kinerley, appeared in 1915.  

    Rime Scheme

    D. H. Lawrence’s “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson” contains a handful of rimes scattered throughout the piece.  These rimes seem to occur accidentally, and therefore, do not rise to the status of an actual “rime scheme.”   These seemingly random rimes, however, do play well in suggesting the level ennui of the teacher.

    Alliteration

    In the first stanza of D. H. Lawrence’s “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson,” the following lines feature what upon first impression might be considered “alliteration.” The initial consonants are capitalized, bolded, and italicized for easy recognition:

    Line 1:  When Will the bell ring, and end this Weariness?
    Lines 4 and 5: they Hate to Hunt, / I can Haul them
    Lines 6 and 7: to Bearthe Brunt / Of the Books
    Lines 7, 8, and 9:  Score / Of Several insults of blotted pages and Scrawl / Of Slovenly
    Line 11:  Woodstacks Working Weariedly

    Even though those lines feature repetition of initial consonantal sounds, the poetic purpose for the use of alliteration is not fulfilled in any of those consonant groups, and therefore that true poetic alliteration is not actually employed in this poem.

    Poets and other creative writers employ “alliteration” in both poetry and prose to create a musically rhythmic sound. Alliterative sound renders the flow of words a beauty which attracts the auditory nerves making the language both more enjoyable and more easily remembered.  

    None of this poetic purpose is fulfilled in Lawrence’s lines with the assumed alliteration, especially lines 4–5, 6–7,  and 7–8–9, which spill over onto the next line, thus separating the alliterative group.

    The Six-Stanza Draft of This Poem

    An earlier draft of Lawrence’s “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson” featuring six stanzas appears on some internet sites.  The six-stanza version is far inferior to the masterfully revised two-stanza version, which is the focus of this commentary. 

    Readers who encounter that earlier six-stanza draft should compare it to the two-stanza, revised version.  They will then understand that the revised two-stanza version is more polished, succinct, and includes the useful metaphor of likening the soul to embers of a fire.  

    Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson

    When will the bell ring, and end this weariness?
    How long have they tugged the leash, and strained apart
    My pack of unruly hounds: I cannot start
    Them again on a quarry of knowledge they hate to hunt,
    I can haul them and urge them no more.
    No more can I endure to bear the brunt
    Of the books that lie out on the desks: a full three score
    Of several insults of blotted pages and scrawl
    Of slovenly work that they have offered me.
    I am sick, and tired more than any thrall
    Upon the woodstacks working weariedly.

    And shall I take
    The last dear fuel and heap it on my soul
    Till I rouse my will like a fire to consume
    Their dross of indifference, and burn the scroll
    Of their insults in punishment? – I will not!
    I will not waste myself to embers for them,
    Not all for them shall the fires of my life be hot,
    For myself a heap of ashes of weariness, till sleep
    Shall have raked the embers clear: I will keep
    Some of my strength for myself, for if I should sell
    It all for them, I should hate them –
    – I will sit and wait for the bell.

    Reading of “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson”  

    Commentary on “Afternoon in School: The Last Lesson”

    The bored and labor-weary instructor in “Last Lesson of the Afternoon” is dramatizing the fatigue that has resulted from trying to teach lackluster pupils who resist learning.  He, thus, makes a vow to himself that he will simply stop the punishing of his own soul; he will stop wasting his time and effort, trying to teach those who do not want to learn.

    First Stanza: Student Dogs

    When will the bell ring, and end this weariness?
    How long have they tugged the leash, and strained apart
    My pack of unruly hounds: I cannot start
    Them again on a quarry of knowledge they hate to hunt,
    I can haul them and urge them no more.
    No more can I endure to bear the brunt
    Of the books that lie out on the desks: a full three score
    Of several insults of blotted pages and scrawl
    Of slovenly work that they have offered me.
    I am sick, and tired more than any thrall
    Upon the woodstacks working weariedly.

    The drama played out in this poem begins and concludes with the teacher asserting that he will simply sit and wait for the bell to ring—in a sense, he is likening his own behavior to his uninspired pupils. 

    The speaker metaphorically compares his lackluster students to dogs that pull hard and attempt to wrench free from a leash.  The students resist his attempt to teach them; thus, the dog metaphor describes their behavior. They have no desire to learn, and the teacher thus has no desire to continue trying to instruct them. 

    He has arrived at the notion that he can no longer in good faith continue this farce of teaching and learning that is not taking place. He wishes to free himself from the same situation that he thinks his students are undergoing.

    Apparently, this teacher does not possess the patience and love of the young required for working with students. He has become too weary, and he holds no empathy for these students who continue to turn in “slovenly work.” 

    He has come to loathe the job of having to correct the many badly written papers that confront him time and time again. He has become bone tired, and he complains that the whole situation serves neither him nor his students.

    The teacher then declares that it does not matter if they are able to write about what they lack interest in anyway. He finds the situation pointless. Bitterly, he complains repeatedly about the ultimate purpose of all this useless activity.

    Second Stanza: Unjustified Expenditure of Energy

    And shall I take
    The last dear fuel and heap it on my soul
    Till I rouse my will like a fire to consume
    Their dross of indifference, and burn the scroll
    Of their insults in punishment? – I will not!
    I will not waste myself to embers for them,
    Not all for them shall the fires of my life be hot,
    For myself a heap of ashes of weariness, till sleep
    Shall have raked the embers clear: I will keep
    Some of my strength for myself, for if I should sell
    It all for them, I should hate them –
    – I will sit and wait for the bell.

    The teacher then assumes that even if he commits all of his energy and efforts to these students, he cannot justify to himself the expenditure of his energy.  His soul is being wasted and tortured in attempting to teach the unteachable. He senses that he is being insulted by the students’ lack of motivation and desire to achieve.

    He has determined that there is no value in struggling to impart knowledge to a bunch of seemingly braindead urchins who possess not a shred of desire to acquire an education.  This teacher proclaims his intention to stop using up his soul power in vain attempts to teach these recalcitrant unteachables. 

    The speaker/teacher looks fate in the eye and finds that no matter what he does and no matter what they do, it all goes down to the same nothingness. Whether he teaches or not, it does not matter. Whether they learn or not, it does not matter.

    The weary teacher likens his life to “embers” of a fire that is slowly burning out; he insists that he will not allow himself to become a simple ash heap from burning himself out while attempting to accomplish the impossible.  If sleep will rake the embers clear, he will, instead, save his energy for more worthwhile activities that will actually enhance his life, instead of draining it of vitality. 

    He implies that as a teacher, he is obligated to assume responsibly with all his strength, but by doing so, he wastes himself on a futile mission. Thus, he makes a vow to himself to cease this purposeless activity.  Nothing he does can influence these poor souls, so why, he asks himself, should he continue to attempt it?  Why torture himself as he also tortures the undeliverable?

    The speaker/teacher can no longer care, if, in fact, he ever did. He feels that the effort is not worth it. He must move on. Vaguely yet surely, he is implying that teachers are born, not made.  The disgruntled teacher has arrived at his perfect, liberating thought: like the students who resist learning, he has become the teacher who will resist teaching. 

    He will “sit and wait for the bell,” just as his students are doing. If they do not want to learn, then he concludes, why should he want to teach?  He has finished with wasting his efforts on a futile activity. 

    The struggle between the unwilling students and the unenthusiastic teacher ends in a something of a stalemate. The image of them both sitting and waiting for the bell to ring signals a sad scenario of soulless sterility.

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  • Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life”

    Image: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life”

    The speaker in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life” is offering sage advice regarding the notion that each individual must face life with determination to be successful and fill one’s life with achievements.  The alternative renders the soul dead or simply slumbering without purpose.

    Introduction and Text of “A Psalm of Life”

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poetry was enormously popular and influential in his own lifetime. Today, most readers have heard his quotations so often that they have become “part of the culture.”

    For example, many readers will recognize the line, “Into each life some rain must fall,” and they will find that line in his poem called “The Rainy Day.” No doubt it is this Longfellow poem that helped spread the use of “rain” as a metaphor for the melancholy times in our lives.

    Longfellow was a careful scholar, and his poems reflect an intuition that allowed him to see into the heart and soul of his subject.  Critic and editor J. D. McClatchy says that Longfellow was “fluent in many languages,” and the poet translated such works as Dante’s The Divine Comedy.

    Other Longfellow translations include “The Good Shepherd” by Lope de Vega, “Santa Teresa’s Book-Mark” by Saint Teresa of Ávila, “The Sea Hath Its Pearls” by Heinrich Heine, and several selections by Michelangelo [1].

    The poet also achieved fame as a novelist with his novel Kavanaugh: A Tale. This work was touted by Ralph Waldo Emerson for its contribution to the development of the American novel.  Longfellow also excelled as an essayist with such works as “The Literary Spirit of Our Country,” “Table Talk,” and “Address on the Death of Washington Irving.”

    The poet’s highly spiritual poem “A Psalm of Life” offers a wise piece of advice regarding the issue of facing life with a proper positive attitude.  The alternative is to allow life to defeat one’s spirit which leads to failure and lack of achievement.  

    Longfellow has said that the poem is “a transcript of my thoughts and feelings at the time I wrote, and of the conviction therein expressed, that Life is something more than an idle dream” [2].

    A Psalm of Life

    What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.

    Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
    Life is but an empty dream!
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
    And things are not what they seem.

    Life is real! Life is earnest!
    And the grave is not its goal;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
    Was not spoken of the soul.

    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
    Is our destined end or way;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
    Find us farther than to-day.

    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
    And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
    Funeral marches to the grave.

    In the world’s broad field of battle,
    In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
    Be a hero in the strife!

    Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
    Let the dead Past bury its dead!
    Act,— act in the living Present!
    Heart within, and God o’erhead!

    Lives of great men all remind us
    We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
    Footprints on the sands of time;

    Footprints, that perhaps another,
    Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
    Seeing, shall take heart again.

    Let us, then, be up and doing,
    With a heart for any fate;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
    Learn to labor and to wait.

    Sources for the Introduction

    [1] J. D. McClatchy, editor.  Longfellow: Poems and Other Writings. The Library of America. 2000.  Print.

    [2] Andrew Hilen, editor. The Letters of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Harvard University Press. 1966.

    Commentary on “A Psalm of Life”

    The speaker in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life” presents life as an instrument for striving and achievement; he challenges individuals to think and peer beyond the certainty of death and to tirelessly work toward achieving worthwhile goals. 

    The poem urges readers to take inspiration from the lives of great men of high accomplishments, to act in the eternal now, and to leave behind a legacy (“footprints in the sands of time” ) that will inspire others to follow their own goals on their personal paths through life.

    First Stanza:  Confronting and Rebutting Pessimism

    Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
    Life is but an empty dream!
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
    And things are not what they seem.

    In one of his most widely anthologized poems “A Psalm of Life,” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow creates a speaker who is openly and  directly confronting pessimism.  The command, “Tell me not, in mournful numbers,” immediately heralds a defiant tone, indicating that the speaker eschews the notion that life remains nothing more than an “empty dream.” 

    The speaker opines and asserts that a passive, slumbering soul is “dead” and that appearances can be deceiving—life’s true value is not found in relinquishment of duty or rolling over and playing dead.

    Second Stanza:  A Declaration of  Transcendental Life

    Life is real! Life is earnest!
    And the grave is not its goal;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
    Was not spoken of the soul.

    In the second stanza, the speaker is declaring that life is real and earnest. He refutes the notion that the graveyard is life’s ultimate destinational goal.  By quoting the Biblical injunction, “dust thou art, to dust returnest,” he distinguishes an important, vital difference between the physical encasement and the eternal soul, which confirms that the true purpose of living the life of a human being is to transcend mortality.

    Third Stanza:  Defeating the Pairs of Opposites

    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
    Is our destined end or way;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
    Find us farther than to-day.

    The third stanza reveals that pleasure, sorrow, and other sense factors involving the pairs of opposites are also not the ultimate aim of existence. 

    Instead, the speaker calls for active duty and acceptance of responsibilities as the way to progressive evolution. Each day should fulfill some advancement in one’s goal, and not merely remain a repetition of mundane activities or a  stagnation of routine.

    Fourth Stanza:  Time Marches On, but Keep On Keeping On

    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
    And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
    Funeral marches to the grave.

    The speaker then addresses the struggle between human desires and ambition and the relentless onslaught of time as it ticks on and on.  The metaphor of “muffled drums” beating “funeral marches to the grave” emphasizes drearily the inevitability that death continues to approach, yet the speaker continues to urge his fellow human beings to remain “stout and brave” despite these unsavory facts.

    Fifth Stanza:  Confronting the Battlefield of Life

    In the world’s broad field of battle,
    In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
    Be a hero in the strife!

    The speaker in the fifth stanza then turns to a military metaphor, likening life to a battlefield. He exhorts readers again not to remain passive or herd-like (“dumb, driven cattle”), but to always strive heroically as they meet life’s struggles and set-backs.

    Sixth Stanza:  The Importance of the Eternal Now

    Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
    Let the dead Past bury its dead!
    Act,— act in the living Present!
    Heart within, and God o’erhead!

    The speaker now is admonishing his fellows against both relying on the future or on dwelling on the past. The command to “act in the living Present” becomes cardinal to the poem’s message. 

    The phrase “Heart within, and God o’erhead!” states in no uncertain terms that inner determination and divine protection and guidance are major sources of the necessary strength required to meet all the challenges that life is apt to throw at the human mind and heart.

    Seventh Stanza:  Emulating the Example of Greatness

    Lives of great men all remind us
    We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
    Footprints on the sands of time;

    In the seventh stanza, the speaker is providing the example of great men to inspire the reader.  The lives of great men of the past and present clearly and convincingly demonstrate that it is possible for each human being to achieve greatness and to leave a lasting mark in the fields of endeavor to which they have been called.

    By keeping in clear sight worthy goals and determining to work assiduously to achieve those goal, any individual can surely succeed and leave “footprints on the sands of time.”   Those “footprints” are found in the histories of those great men and women who achieved their goals and gave to humankind tangible tools. 

    One thinks of such people as the Founding Fathers, who worked tirelessly to bestow on their country a document called the Constitution, which would allow the citizens to live in freedom instead of a monarchy or dictatorship.  Or one might bring to mind Thomas Edison with his inventions such as the light bulb that ordinary life uses on a daily basis. 

    Eighth Stanza:  Setting a Positive Example

    Footprints, that perhaps another,
    Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
    Seeing, shall take heart again.

    The speaker then expands on the idea of a life legacy to all others who may just need a boost to continue marching down their own chosen paths.  One need not aim for fame and renown to leave behind those “footprints.” 

    Whatever good one leaves behind can offer hope and encouragement to others who are struggling.  This notion emphasizes the importance of setting a positive example for others because one can never know who might benefit by learning about or seeing how hard we worked for our own goals.

    Ninth Stanza:  Perfecting a Stalwart Attitude 

    Let us, then, be up and doing,
    With a heart for any fate;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
    Learn to labor and to wait.

    The speaker concludes his psalm with a solemn call to action. He urges his readers to remain focused on their goals and duties, and to remain resilient in facing adversity.  He wants his fellows to pursue their goal with great determination.

    He also wants humanity to nurture perseverance and patience.  He admonishes and urges his audience to be industrious and resilient, to pursue goals with determination, and to cultivate a stalwart attitude.  Each individual must”Learn to labor and to wait” as they continue to pursue and achieve.

    The Power of Longfellow’s Psalm

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life” remains a powerful musing on the human condition, as it performs its function through a pleasant meter, sophisticated rime-scheme, and motivating calls for action. 

    Longfellow’s psalm is not merely an harangue against mortality; it offers instead a set of instructions for deliberate living, as Henry David Thoreau insisted that we went to Walden’s Pond to learn to “live deliberately.”

    The psalm’s abiding appeal is that it has the ability to inspire readers to rise above despair and lethargy, to act courageously, and to hopefully leave a meaningful legacy of guideposts for coming generations.

    Image: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow   Commemorative Stamp

  • Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Christmas Bells”

    Image: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Christmas Bells”

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s” Christmas Bells” is a widely anthologized poem that celebrates the winter holiday.   It features a phrase associated famously with the Christmas season in its chant, “Of peace on earth / Good-will to men.”

    Introduction and Text of “Christmas Bells”

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Christmas Bells” is remarkable not only for its tribute to Christmas but also for its commentary regarding the American Civil War, which was in progress at the time the poet composed this poem on Christmas Day 1864.   This poem was published in 1865, and by 1872, it was set to music, becoming a world famous Christmas carol, covered by many singers, including Frank Sinatra.

    The poem plays out in seven cinquains, each with the riming scheme, AABBC.  It repeats the phrase, “peace on earth, good-will to men,” which has become a widely chanted invocation for world peace.

    Christmas Bells

    I heard the bells on Christmas Day
    Their old, familiar carols play,
        And wild and sweet
        The words repeat
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    And thought how, as the day had come,
    The belfries of all Christendom
        Had rolled along
        The unbroken song
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    Till ringing, singing on its way,
    The world revolved from night to day,
        A voice, a chime,
        A chant sublime
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    Then from each black, accursed mouth
    The cannon thundered in the South,
        And with the sound
        The carols drowned
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    It was as if an earthquake rent
    The hearth-stones of a continent,
        And made forlorn
        The households born
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    And in despair I bowed my head;
    “There is no peace on earth,” I said;
        “For hate is strong,
        And mocks the song
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” 

    Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
    “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
        The Wrong shall fail,
        The Right prevail,
    With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

    Reading with musical accompaniment:  

    Commentary on “Christmas Bells”

    Since its original publication in 1865, the concluding year of the American Civil War, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s” Christmas Bells” has enjoyed widespread distribution and attention.  

    The poem’s refrain, “Of peace on earth / Good-will to men,” has served as an appeal for a common goal, uplifting the minds and hearts of all people the world over.  And while the poem’s association with the Christmas holiday is obvious, the sentiment for peace and world-wide goodwill remain regnant throughout the year.

    First Cinquain:  Ringing in Christmas

    I heard the bells on Christmas Day
    Their old, familiar carols play,
        And wild and sweet
        The words repeat
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

    The speaker reports that upon hearing the church bells pealing and the singing of carols in celebration of Christ’s birth, he is reminded of the purpose of Christmas celebration of peace and harmony among the world’s citizens.  He avers that the words and sentiment are very well-known to him. 

    He also reports that those words hold a special place in his heart.  The speaker’s tribute thus reveals the nature of the season that had become and still remain one of the most important celebrations of the year, especially in Western culture.

    The line—”Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”—becomes the refrain in this poem that may also serve as a hymn. The refrain allows the poem to function as a chant.  It has been invoked many times in many places for that purpose since its composition in 1863.  

    Those important words have also been employed to remind a warring world of the true goal human endeavor, that peace and harmony are ever more desirable than war and chaos.

    Second Cinquain:  A Reminder of Peace 

    And thought how, as the day had come,
    The belfries of all Christendom
        Had rolled along
        The unbroken song
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

    Hearing the bells and the caroling also reminds the speaker of the “unbroken song” of Christ’s birth that is celebrated in all places where Christians and others of a spiritual nature acknowledge and love Jesus Christ.  

    Again, the speaker repeats that all important idea, “Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” The chanted line remains an important feature of this poem for its ability to alter even the speaker’s mood as he continues to describe his reaction to hearing the bells.

    For the speaker, the continuation of the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ as the savior of humankind has informed his remembrance, even as life has progressed and often descended into the chaos that all of humankind would prefer to avoid. 

    He is writing during the time of war, and thus he desires to achieve peace, but that desire may be contrasted with outward events that hem him round.  As he writes his tribute, motivated by the words of sacredness from the carols, he is reminded of calmness and the nature of life as he would have it.

    Third Cinquain:  Heavenly Sounds 

    Till ringing, singing on its way,
    The world revolved from night to day,
        A voice, a chime,
        A chant sublime
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

    The sounding of the bells and voices singing Christmas carols continues throughout the day as the day turns into night.  The speaker describes the sounds he hears as voices and chimes.  He finds those sounds to be heavenly; they remind him of all things sublime.  And the chant he has fashioned again closes the cinquain.

    The simple chanting of an uncomplicated but seemingly unattainable state of earthly tranquility provides the atmosphere in which a mind may rest, if only for a moment.   The necessity of that rest becomes paramount during times of holy day recognition, and the celebration of the birth of Christ offers “Christendom” that opportunity for solemn meditation on the soul.

    The speaker throughout his tribute remains intensely focused on the refrain that is chanted, and the peace and goodwill that he is asserting then become part of a prayer. 
     As he asserts that the words of the carols remind him of sacredness, he yearns to bring about that very situation through concentration on the peace and harmony that such chanting is not only describing but also demanding.

    Fourth Cinquain:  A Moment of Bleak Melancholy

    Then from each black, accursed mouth
    The cannon thundered in the South,
        And with the sound
        The carols drowned
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    While the speaker is enjoying of the beautiful peeling of the bells and the singing of carols, he enjoyment is suddenly interrupted by a loud, explosive reminder that war is raging.

    Symbolizing the war, cannons are loudly reminding the speaker of the unfortunate events that are being played out, especially in the southern part of his country.  Those likely metaphoric sounds have intruded into the speaker’s consciousness at a time when he is musing on beautiful qualities that should exist, specially at this time of year.  

    The loud cannons that “thunder” become a dark cloud, covering the beauty of the carols that proclaim earthly peace and the lovely fellow feeling that should exist among all citizens.

    This interlude of remembrance of war contrasts greatly with the opening emphasis on beauty, tranquility, along with peace and goodwill.  The stark image of a cannon’s “black, accursed mouth” startles the mind that has heretofore been soothed by the reminders of celebration of spirituality through peace and goodwill.

    Fifth Cinquain:  Peace Broken by War 

    It was as if an earthquake rent
    The hearth-stones of a continent,
        And made forlorn
        The households born
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

    Continuing the contrasting stark interlude of war that has pushed its way into the speaker’s awareness, this stanza then likens the war to a different calamity.  Thus the narrative moves from the cannons of war to the natural phenomenon of an earthquake that breaks up the very ground beneath the feet of the citizens.  

    The households seem to be suddenly stripped of the serenity that should be aglow with the peace and harmony for each family.  This interlude of melancholy and pain, however, still contains the seeds of hope as the cinquain concludes again with the refrain for peace.

    The speaker is aware that too many families have been affected by the war as husbands, wives, sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters have gone off to war to defend what they consider their homeland.  This “earthquake” of war has caused a melancholy atmosphere to fall over the citizenry, but the speaker still continues to chant his prayer of yearning for peace and goodwill.

    Sixth Cinquain:  No Peace—Just Despair and Hatred 

    And in despair I bowed my head;
    “There is no peace on earth,” I said;
        “For hate is strong,
        And mocks the song
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” 

    Into the third stanza also comes the painful interlude of melancholy, which continues to serve as a reminder that this poem is being composed during a time of war.  The speaker looks down, bowing his head, feeling desperate for better times. 

    He bemoans the fact that currently peace does not reign over the land.  His country is engaged in a bloody battle for its soul; it is being pulled apart by differences that reflect strong hatred on both sides.  

    Political differences have spoiled the peace that should be spreading over the landscape and into the hearts and minds of the citizenry, instead of the suffering and chaos that war and hatred are bringing.

    Because there is such strong hatred in the world, the song of peace is mocked by the brutality of war, which contrasts so violently with the notion of peace and harmony.  Sadly then, the speaker is experiencing a moment of hopelessness that there is no truth in chanting about peace, love, and goodwill.  

    The contrast between his earlier feeling regarding peace and harmony reflected by his repeated refrain and this painful realization that peace is lacking must have been excruciating for the speaker as he passes through that dark moment brought on by the reality of war raging in his country.

    That the speaker is forced to concede, “There is no peace on earth,” remains a painful reminder of the chaos that hatred brings into the lives all people.  The very hope that peace can be achieved on earth becomes difficult to maintain in the midst of all the pain and suffering caused by the destruction of weapons and brute force against citizens.  

    Seventh Cinquain:  The Return to Faith and Joy 

    Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
    “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
        The Wrong shall fail,
        The Right prevail,
    With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

    Just as suddenly as the melancholy had momentarily overtaken him,  the speaker’s mind fortunately returns to its faith that all will be well.  The bells’ tone now seems to become even deeper and louder, causing the speaker’s musings to be uplifted.

    His heart and mind become filled with the notion that the wrong of the world will be defeated by the right, which will win.  The speaker assures himself that God is in control, and that God never abandons His children.   The sound of the bells continues to peal in the speaker’s consciousness as they deliver his mood from sadness to hope and faith again.

    The speaker then is able to assert with strongest faith, “God is not dead.”  He also asserts with assurance, “nor doth He sleep.”  The speaker’s faith thus returns him to the knowledge that right will overcome wrong because God is still controlling all events.  

    The speaker can thus continue emphasizing the sentiment of his controlling refrain.  He can again with renewed faith place that emphasis on that refrain that had brightened all the preceding stanzas of his discourse.  He can chant again his invocation for peace and goodwill for all his earthly brethren.

    Thus, because of the return of his faith in his deep heart’s core, he can proclaim the repeated truth that God still fills the world’s faithful “With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

  • Walter de la Mare’s “Silver”

    Image: Walter de la Mare  

    Walter de la Mare’s “Silver”

    The speaker in Walter de la Mare’s “Silver” personifies the moon as a lady out walking at night in silver slippers, showering the landscape and everything in it with the color of silver. The silvering of the night moon reveals a special style of beauty; while sunlight is gold, moonlight is silver.

    Introduction and Text of “Silver”

    Walter de la Mare’s classic poem, “Silver,” plays out in the form of an innovative sonnet [my coined term American-Innovative Sonnet], composed of seven riming couplets, in which the moon is personified as a lady out walking in silver slippers that shine upon the landscape causing everything visible to don a silver glow.

    The speaker is taking a walk at nighttime, and the moon shines gloriously upon the landscape. The speaker is emotionally enthralled by the transition from daylight appearance to nightlight appearance.

    The sun manifests for humanity one style of scenario, while the moon reveals quite another. The sense of sight is predominant during this rendering; one barely hears anything save perhaps the “scampering” of a “harvest mouse.”   The quiet beauty seems to swell the heart of the observer with tranquil appreciation.

    Silver 

    Slowly, silently, now the moon
    Walks the night in her silver shoon;
    This way, and that, she peers, and sees
    Silver fruit upon silver trees;
    One by one the casements catch
    Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
    Couched in his kennel, like a log,
    With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
    From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
    Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
    A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
    With silver claws, and silver eye;
    And moveless fish in the water gleam,
    By silver reeds in a silver stream.

    Reading of Walter de la Mare’s “Silver” 

    Commentary on “Silver”

    During daylight hours, sunlight reveals the creatures and things of the earth in its golden light, displaying many varied colors, while during the nighttime hours, moonlight offers a very different experience of seeing everything through the lens of silver.

    First Couplet:  The Moon Informs the Night

    Slowly, silently, now the moon
    Walks the night in her silver shoon;

    The speaker begins by setting the scene of the moon slowly moving in silence upon the landscape.  That moon is transforming the land in ways that one might not expect.  

    In sunlight, the creatures of earth have come to expect the ability to see all things in a certain way, but in moonlight all is changed——all is so very delightfully different. Instead of merely revealing the consciousness of daylight experience of earthly creatures, the moon reveals a whole different scenario.  

    The speaker portrays that difference by alerting the poem’s audience that the moon is “walk[ing] the night,” wearing “silver shoon.” The British dialect that uses “shoon” for “shoes” effects a useful rime with “moon.” 

    Personified as a lady, the silver slippered moon is walking the landscape “slowly” but also “silently.” Nighttime is a time for reflection, contemplation, and meditation. 

    And those who have observed the stillness of nighttime with the moon shining searchingly will attest to the serenity garnered from that quiet time of day:  a time for still reflection and musing on all that is beautiful, yet mysterious.

    Second Couplet:  The Moon Walking and Observing

    This way, and that, she peers, and sees
    Silver fruit upon silver trees;

    The moonlight permeates the landscape during her walk.  This metaphoric moon lady “peers and sees.” Anyone walking the silver-sprayed landscape at night might encounter certain objects being bathed and transformed by moonlight.  

    This moon sees trees with fruit.  The metaphor of the moon as a person walking the landscape enlarges the vision for the reader/listener who, no doubt, has encountered such an experience.  

    Who has not walked at night and observed the beauty of the transformed landscape from sunlight to moonlight?  Colors are gone, fine definitions are gone, but what is left is a new experience of beauty that entices the observer with new, fascinating perceptions.

    By personifying the moon as one who walks the landscape at night, the speaker/poet has given humanity back its experience of having seen that landscape and enjoyed it——perhaps without even realizing it, but still capturing it for future perusal in memory. 

    Because the poet has seen fit to capture that experience, his fellow earth inhabitants are now capable of experiencing it also.  In the speaker’s crystalline snapshot of his night walk in the silvery moonlight, he is creating a scene of beauty and stillness that complements the sun’s golden featuring of day.

    Third Couplet:  All Bathed in Silver

    One by one the casements catch
    Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

    The speaker then observes that the whole vantage point of his capability is bathed in silver.  The windows of every cottage he has the privilege to view are also bathed in that marvelous silver.  The thatched roofs are flowing with silver.  Everything is swimming in this mercurial silver.

    But far from poisoning anything as the actual metal will do, this silver enlivens and enhances the beauty of the nighttime landscape.  It merely proclaims that everything God has created is beautiful, if one can only open one’s eyes to see that beauty.  

    Most human eyes have become habituated to the fact that sunlight on a flower creates a wondrous spectacle of beauty.  Quite likely, far fewer have realized that the moonlight turning that same flower into a spectacle in silver could also offer an example of beauty.  This speaker’s unveiling his experience allows readers to engage their own hidden memories.

    Fourth Couplet:  Happy, Silvered Dogs

    Couched in his kennel, like a log,
    With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

    Human beings love their dogs——man’s best friend!  So much so that most Americans will not likely identify with “couched in a kennel,” because it is more likely that their dogs will be couched in their indoor beds not far from the beds of their human companions. 

    Yet, earlier history had people keeping their dogs outside in the dog houses or “kennels.”  Therefore, the speaker has observed that in their doghouses, these dogs are all silvered as they sleep “like a log.” Happy silvered dogs, sleep peacefully outside in full view of any observer who might be taking a walk in the moonlight.

    Fifth Couplet:  Silvery Sleep

    From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
    Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

    Nature offers many scenes for observation.  The speaker then notes that even the doves can be seen in the silver of the moonlight.  The breasts of the doves are peeping out from their shadowy cote.   And like all the creatures of nature heretofore portrayed, the doves send forth the majestic beauty of the moon’s silver.

    Sixth Couplet:  Equal Opportunity in Silver

    A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
    With silver claws, and silver eye;

    The speaker does not fail to note that even rodents are captured by the silvering of the moon. The speaker then describes a harvest mouse.  The mouse goes “scampering by.”  And of course, this harvest mouse, this rodent, possesses “silver claws, and silver eye.”

    The silvering of the moon offers equal opportunity:  no one is left out, no one escapes it.  Silver becomes the only descriptor of things as they parade through the moonlight.  

    Thus, rinsed by silver moonlight, even the tiny harvest mouse becomes an important player in the scenario of the silver moonlight play.  Those silver “shoon” splash far and wide.

    Seventh Couplet:  The Silvering of Fish in a Silver Stream

    And moveless fish in the water gleam,
    By silver reeds in a silver stream.

    Having lived with fish in bodies of water in rivers, creeks, and lakes, I can attest to the silvering of fish in streams in moonlight.  They do, in fact, “gleam” with the silver of the moonlight.  

    Those fish do, in fact, take their existence among the “reeds,” as they swish through the waters, with the goal of continued existence, their way of glorifying their Creator in any way they can, at their evolutionary stage of existence. 

    This speaker has marvelously captured the wonderful silvering of things as they appear in the nighttime blessed with moonlight upon them.  

    As the moon has walked the night, she has invited those who have also observed such a scene to remember not the absence of golden light, but the intense presence of silver.   Night with a big moon paints beauty as it silvers each object and enhances its stillness in loveliness.

    Acknowledgment:  Hooked on Poetry

    Walter de la Mare’s “Silver” is the poem that is responsible for getting me hooked on poetry in high school in the early 1960s.  It was in Mrs. Edna Pickett’s sophomore English class that we read and studied this poem.  

    Mrs. Pickett was a devout Shakespeare scholar, and she had a soft spot in her heart for all poetry.  As she explained the nature of poetry, she defined that form as a “crystallization” of thought.  The devotion that she felt for that form was clear and moving.  

    From that point on, I have felt that I too possessed a motivating kinship with the form, and that relationship has grown deeper and broader over the years, since 1961, when I first studied literature in Mrs. Pickett’s class.

  • Seamus Heaney’s “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing”

    Image:  Seamus Heaney

    Seamus Heaney’s “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing”

    Seamus Heaney’s “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing” is displayed in four parts. The piece dramatizes a rough-style free verse with an irregularly paced rime scheme. The speaker is describing the events surrounding the command for political operatives to be extremely careful with what they say.

    Introduction and Text of “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing”

    The title, “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing,” originates with the secretive activity of Northern Ireland’s rebel paramilitary that admonished its members with this demand. 

    Its purpose was to advise members to be extremely careful with what they say. If they speak to “civilians” at all, they should make their talk so small that it would reveal nothing about their activity. 

    Whatever You Say, Say Nothing

    I

    I’m writing just after an encounter
    With an English journalist in search of  ‘views
    On the Irish thing’.  I’m back in winter
    Quarters where bad news is no longer news,
    Where media-men and stringers sniff and point,
    Where zoom lenses, recorders and coiled leads
    Litter the hotels. The times are out of joint
    But I incline as much to rosary beads
    As to the jottings and analyses
    Of politicians and newspapermen
    Who’ve scribbled down the long campaign from gas
    And protest to gelignite and Sten,
    Who proved upon their pulses ‘escalate’,
    ‘Backlash’ and ‘crack down’, ‘the provisional wing’,
    ‘Polarization’ and ‘long-standing hate’.
    Yet I live here, I live here too, I sing,
    Expertly civil-tongued with civil neighbours
    On the high wires of first wireless reports,
    Sucking the fake taste, the stony flavours
    Of those sanctioned, old, elaborate retorts:
    ‘Oh, it’s disgraceful, surely, I agree.’
    ‘Where’s it going to end?’ ‘It’s getting worse.’
    ‘They’re murderers.’ ‘Internment, understandably …’
    The ‘voice of sanity’ is getting hoarse.

    II

    Men die at hand. In blasted street and home
    The gelignite’s a common sound effect:
    As the man said when Celtic won, ‘The Pope of Rome’s
    a happy man this night.’ His flock suspect

    In their deepest heart of hearts the heretic
    Has come at last to heel and to the stake.
    We tremble near the flames but want no truck
    With the actual firing. We’re on the make

    As ever. Long sucking the hind tit
    Cold as a witch’s and as hard to swallow
    Still leaves us fork-tongued on the border bit:
    The liberal papist note sounds hollow

    When amplified and mixed in with the bangs
    That shake all hearts and windows day and night.
    (It’s tempting here to rhyme on ‘labour pangs’
    And diagnose a rebirth in our plight

    But that would be to ignore other symptoms.
    Last night you didn’t need a stethoscope
    To hear the eructation of Orange drums
    Allergic equally to Pearse and Pope.)

    On all sides ‘little platoons’ are mustering-
    The phrase is Cruise O’Brien’s via that great
    Backlash, Burke-while I sit here with a pestering
    Drouth for words at once both gaff and bait

    To lure the tribal shoals to epigram
    And order. I believe any of us
    Could draw the line through bigotry and sham
    Given the right line, aere perennius.

    III

    “Religion’s never mentioned here”, of course.
    “You know them by their eyes,” and hold your tongue.
    “One side’s as bad as the other,” never worse.
    Christ, it’s near time that some small leak was sprung
    In the great dykes the Dutchman made
    To dam the dangerous tide that followed Seamus.
    Yet for all this art and sedentary trade
    I am incapable. The famous
    Northern reticence, the tight gag of place
    And times: yes, yes. Of the “wee six” I sing
    Where to be saved you only must save face
    And whatever you say, you say nothing.
    Smoke-signals are loud-mouthed compared with us:
    Manoeuvrings to find out name and school,
    Subtle discrimination by addresses
    With hardly an exception to the rule
    That Norman, Ken and Sidney signalled Prod
    And Seamus (call me Sean) was sure-fire Pape.
    O land of password, handgrip, wink and nod,
    Of open minds as open as a trap,
    Where tongues lie coiled, as under flames lie wicks,
    Where half of us, as in a wooden horse
    Were cabin’d and confined like wily Greeks,
    Besieged within the siege, whispering morse.

    IV

    This morning from a dewy motorway
    I saw the new camp for the internees:
    A bomb had left a crater of fresh clay
    In the roadside, and over in the trees
    Machine-gun posts defined a real stockade.
    There was that white mist you get on a low ground
    And it was déjà-vu, some film made
    Of Stalag 17, a bad dream with no sound.
    Is there a life before death? That’s chalked up
    In Ballymurphy. Competence with pain,
    Coherent miseries, a bite and sup,
    We hug our little destiny again.

    Commentary on “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing”

    The poem, “Whatever You Say, Say Nothing,” is displayed in four parts. The piece dramatizes a rough-style free verse with an irregularly paced rime scheme.

    First Part:  Harassed by Reporters

    I’m writing just after an encounter
    With an English journalist in search of  ‘views
    On the Irish thing’.  I’m back in winter
    Quarters where bad news is no longer news,
    Where media-men and stringers sniff and point,
    Where zoom lenses, recorders and coiled leads
    Litter the hotels. The times are out of joint
    But I incline as much to rosary beads
    As to the jottings and analyses
    Of politicians and newspapermen
    Who’ve scribbled down the long campaign from gas
    And protest to gelignite and Sten,
    Who proved upon their pulses ‘escalate’,
    ‘Backlash’ and ‘crack down’, ‘the provisional wing’,
    ‘Polarization’ and ‘long-standing hate’.
    Yet I live here, I live here too, I sing,
    Expertly civil-tongued with civil neighbours
    On the high wires of first wireless reports,
    Sucking the fake taste, the stony flavours
    Of those sanctioned, old, elaborate retorts:
    ‘Oh, it’s disgraceful, surely, I agree.’
    ‘Where’s it going to end?’ ‘It’s getting worse.’
    ‘They’re murderers.’ ‘Internment, understandably …’
    The ‘voice of sanity’ is getting hoarse.

    In Part I, the speaker reports that he is being harassed by reporters.  They seek information about how the Irish feel about their situation.  The intrusive reporters shove cameras and microphones into the faces of the locals.  They “litter” the localities and disturb the peace.    

    The speaker then describes the chaos of the political situation.  He claims that he leans more toward religion than politics, but because he is also a citizen he has to pay some attention to current events.

    The speaker portrays the situation as fractious and obstreperous.  As the citizens discuss the chaos, each has his own opinion.  But this speaker/observer notes that certain phrases keep popping up as the folks wonder how all the fighting and back-biting will end.   They all agree that the situation is disagreeable even full of disgrace.

    The speaker even hears his neighbors complaining and keening cries about murderers.  They seem to have no recourse to keep themselves safe.  There seems to be no one around them who possesses a healthy attitude.   

    The speaker’s attitude runs the gamut from amusement to sheer philosophical angst as he looks on the chaos.  He becomes Yeastian at times as he marvels, condemns, and pontificates. 

    Second Part:  After Centuries of War Zone Living

    Men die at hand. In blasted street and home
    The gelignite’s a common sound effect:
    As the man said when Celtic won, ‘The Pope of Rome’s
    a happy man this night.’ His flock suspect

    In their deepest heart of hearts the heretic
    Has come at last to heel and to the stake.
    We tremble near the flames but want no truck
    With the actual firing. We’re on the make

    As ever. Long sucking the hind tit
    Cold as a witch’s and as hard to swallow
    Still leaves us fork-tongued on the border bit:
    The liberal papist note sounds hollow

    When amplified and mixed in with the bangs
    That shake all hearts and windows day and night.
    (It’s tempting here to rhyme on ‘labour pangs’
    And diagnose a rebirth in our plight

    But that would be to ignore other symptoms.
    Last night you didn’t need a stethoscope
    To hear the eructation of Orange drums
    Allergic equally to Pearse and Pope.)

    On all sides ‘little platoons’ are mustering-
    The phrase is Cruise O’Brien’s via that great
    Backlash, Burke-while I sit here with a pestering
    Drouth for words at once both gaff and bait

    To lure the tribal shoals to epigram
    And order. I believe any of us
    Could draw the line through bigotry and sham
    Given the right line, aere perennius.

    The speaker is, however, also capable of spouting the same jeremiads that the Irish have spouted for centuries of residing in a war zone.  Understandably, they have become hardened and discouraged seeing people dying around them as homes are bombed and streets are littered with fire power and debris.   

    The speaker claims that a common sound is the explosion of  “gelignite.” He seems fascinated by the term “gelignite,” which he continues to spread liberally throughout his passages. 

    The speaker is also, however, dramatizing the socialist nature of the crowd and manages to fling off a worked-over cliché:  “cold as a witch’s tit” becomes “hind tit / Cold as a witch’s”—his colorful way of dramatizing the angst. 

    The speaker’s colorful portrayals lurch the poem forward, even if the politics gives it a decided lag, as he confounds the papal intrusion with emptiness.   The continued explosions, however, rip the night and rattle the people’s minds and hearts as well as the windows of their houses.

    Of course, the reader is aware that eventual outcomes depend totally upon which side one is shouting for.  The speaker philosophizes that all the citizens could find the correct solution given enough time and space.  

    They would likely be better at cutting through the bigotry and fake political posturing than those seeking personal gain at the expense of others.  Enough time and anything could be accomplished, the speaker wants to suggest. 

    Third Part:  The Resistance vs Authority

    “Religion’s never mentioned here”, of course.
    “You know them by their eyes,” and hold your tongue.
    “One side’s as bad as the other,” never worse.
    Christ, it’s near time that some small leak was sprung
    In the great dykes the Dutchman made
    To dam the dangerous tide that followed Seamus.
    Yet for all this art and sedentary trade
    I am incapable. The famous
    Northern reticence, the tight gag of place
    And times: yes, yes. Of the “wee six” I sing
    Where to be saved you only must save face
    And whatever you say, you say nothing.
    Smoke-signals are loud-mouthed compared with us:
    Manoeuvrings to find out name and school,
    Subtle discrimination by addresses
    With hardly an exception to the rule
    That Norman, Ken and Sidney signalled Prod
    And Seamus (call me Sean) was sure-fire Pape.
    O land of password, handgrip, wink and nod,
    Of open minds as open as a trap,
    Where tongues lie coiled, as under flames lie wicks,
    Where half of us, as in a wooden horse
    Were cabin’d and confined like wily Greeks,
    Besieged within the siege, whispering morse.

    In Part III, the poem’s title appears, warning that the members of the resistance should take great care not to tip their hand.  If they speak to anyone, they must keep their conversation as neutral as possible.

    They must be quiet, so quiet that a smoke-signal would sound louder.  They must keep their talk to a level of mum.  They must not reveal their plans to anyone lest some authority figure get hold of them.

    Fourth Part:  Is There Life Before Death?

    This morning from a dewy motorway
    I saw the new camp for the internees:
    A bomb had left a crater of fresh clay
    In the roadside, and over in the trees
    Machine-gun posts defined a real stockade.
    There was that white mist you get on a low ground
    And it was déjà-vu, some film made
    Of Stalag 17, a bad dream with no sound.
    Is there a life before death? That’s chalked up
    In Ballymurphy. Competence with pain,
    Coherent miseries, a bite and sup,
    We hug our little destiny again.

    In the final part, the speaker describes what he has seen.  He saw a crater in the middle of an internee camp.  The bomb has carved out the crater and the fresh clay has been spewed all over the trees and the road.

    The speaker then sums up his report with a statement filled with questions.  He wonders if there is life before death.  He also questions the notions of pain and competence.  It seems that life is filled with contradictions, that misery can be coherent stands in his mind as a blind trust.  

    If they are to enjoy their dinner, they must grasp their own destiny repeatedly as they wait for each bit of knowledge that will eventually lead them out of chaos. 

    Reading: Seamus Heaney reading Part 3 of his poem:  

  • Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s “The Queen’s Last Ride”

    Image:  Queen Victoria – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s “The Queen’s Last Ride”

    As the subtitle to the elegy reveals, the poet composed her poem “The Queen’s Last Ride” on the day of Queen Victoria’s funeral on February 2, 1901. The poem retains it special status and a tribute to the queen, whose reign influenced an era.

    Introduction and Text of “The Queen’s Last Ride”

    With its colorful imagery and a strict formal tone, Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s elegy “The Queen’s Last Ride” reveals the serious nature of the occasion.  

    The poem furthermore presents clearly the results of the speaker’s having mused on the themes of mortality, a royal legacy, and spiritual transcendence from the physical level of being to the astral level of being.

    The Queen’s Last Ride

    (Written on the day of Queen Victoria’s funeral)

    The Queen is taking a drive to-day,
    They have hung with purple the carriage-way,
    They have dressed with purple the royal track
    Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back.

    Let no man labour as she goes by
    On her last appearance to mortal eye:
    With heads uncovered let all men wait
    For the Queen to pass, in her regal state.

    Army and Navy shall lead the way
    For that wonderful coach of the Queen’s to-day.
    Kings and Princes and Lords of the land
    Shall ride behind her, a humble band;
    And over the city and over the world
    Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled,
    For the silent lady of royal birth
    Who is riding away from the Courts of earth,
    Riding away from the world’s unrest
    To a mystical goal, on a secret quest.

    Though in royal splendour she drives through town,
    Her robes are simple, she wears no crown:
    And yet she wears one, for, widowed no more,
    She is crowned with the love that has gone before,
    And crowned with the love she has left behind
    In the hidden depths of each mourner’s mind.

    Bow low your heads—lift your hearts on high—
    The Queen in silence is driving by!

    Reading of “The Queen’s Last Ride”

    Commentary on “The Queen’s Last Ride”

    On the same day as Queen Victoria’s funeral on February 2, 1901,Ella Wheeler Wilcox composed her most famous and likely most ambitious poem “The Queen’s Last Ride.” The poem is an elegy for the queen’s funeral procession, commingling sentiments of reverence as well as spirituality.

    Stanza 1: A Metaphoric Drive

    They have hung with purple the carriage-way,
    They have dressed with purple the royal track
    Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back.

    The first stanza introduces the poem’s main metaphor: the queen’s funeral procession is portrayed as a “drive,” a term which lightens the formal nature of a royal, state funeral, while it grants the occasion an intimate, personal tone. 

    The repetition of “purple” in “They have hung with purple the carriage-way” and “They have dressed with purple the royal track” implies the color’s two-fold importance as a symbol of royalty and also as a symbol of spirituality [1]. 

    In Victorian England, the color of purple was used to symbolize royal dignity [2]; that hue was often in evidence in ceremonies to signal authority but also to show reverence. 

    The color’s distinction in this poem emphasizes the grave and serious nature of the occasion; it utterly transforms the physical, earthly path of the procession into a symbolic “royal track” that leads to an eternal destination. The implication corresponds to the poem’s spiritual undertones.

    The phrase “Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back” heralds the theme of finality, signaling that death remains an inevitable departure. The word “never” rings in a stark closure, which contrasts mightily with the gentleness suggested by use of the term “drive”; thus a balance of tenderness and inevitability is accomplished.

    The speaker’s employment of the present tense—”The Queen is taking a drive to-day”—creates a feel of immediacy, connecting the poem to the historical moment of February 2, 1901, when the queen’s  funeral procession actually took place [3]. 

    This time-stamped anchoring invites readers to join and observe the event as it is occurring; this invitation encourages a shared sense of mourning. The stanza’s meter and rime scheme (AABB) parallels the orderly movement of the funeral  procession, as it emphasizes the ceremonial tone. 

    Furthermore, the actions stated by “They have hung” and “They have dressed” suggest a shared effort. It is thus implied that the nation—or even the world—is, in fact, participating in arranging this sacred path. 

    That shared agency sets the stage for the poem’s broader exploration of shared grief and reverence; such common sharing places the queen’s act of leaving her physical encasement (death) as a special moment of world-wide importance.

    The imagery of the “carriage-way” and “royal track” further reveals the Victorian fascination with ceremonial processions [4] as well as other public events. 

    Funerals of high-ranking official were very carefully orchestrated events; they were intended to mirror the social order of the community [5]. Wilcox’s speaker’s use of language clearly communicates the Victorian cultural customs. 

    Such subtle linguistic performance is responsible for transforming the physical route of funeral procession into a metaphorical, even metaphysical,  journey from the earthly to the spiritual level of being. 

    Finally, this stanza sets forth the poem’s somber tone while firmly grounding it in the cultural and historical state of Queen Victoria’s unusually long occupation of the throne, which ran through six decades (63 years and 7 months, from June 20, 1837, to her death on January 22, 1901) and left an enduring influence on British identity.

    Stanza 2:  Setting Laboring Duties Aside

    Let no man labour as she goes by
    On her last appearance to mortal eye:
    With heads uncovered let all men wait
    For the Queen to pass, in her regal state.

    The second stanza moves from description to command: it calls for the ceasing of labor and the displaying of respect.  No one should be giving attention to anything else as the queen passes by for the last time.

    This command demonstrates the Victorian era’s stress on decorum, especially during moments of national mourning. The laying aside of work was a common practice during royal funerals. The cessation of labor and other everyday duties was for demonstrating a community pause for the purpose of honoring the deceased. 

    The speaker’s command to stand with “heads uncovered” calls forth a traditional gesture of respect.  This custom became deeply ensconced in British customs of removing any head gear in the presence of royalty or during solemn occasions. 

    This act of removing headgear also carries a democratic undertone, which suggests that all men, regardless of class, remain united in moments of homage.

    The phrase “last appearance to mortal eye” deepens the poem’s musing on mortality; such musing frames death as a leaving off of human sense awareness. 

    The word “mortal” emphasizes the Queen’s humanness, an act that strips away her royal status to concentrate on her shared vulnerability with all other member of humanity. 

    This universal gesture is representative of Wilcoxian poetry in general, which often explores themes of human connection and spiritual continuity. The stanza’s imperative tone—”Let no man labour” and “let all men wait”—creates a sense of common obligation, inviting readers to join in the ritual of mourning. 

    The regular rime and meter continue to parallel the orderly nature of the procession, while the repetition of “let” reinforces the speaker’s authority in guiding the reader’s response.

    The second stanza also subtly critiques the busyness of modern life, a growing concern in Victorian literary arts. By calling for a pause in labor, the speaker elevates the queen’s passing above the everyday concerns of life, placing it as a moment of profound importance. 

    The phrase “her regal state” reinforces Victoria’s continued majesty, even in death, while the act of waiting suggests a open space between life and death, where the living honor those who have left their physical encasements. 

    This stanza thus serves as both a call to action and as a musing on the cultural practices that guided Victorian responses to death, particularly for a queen whose reign set the boundaries of an era.

    Stanza 3: A World-Wide Tribute

    Army and Navy shall lead the way
    For that wonderful coach of the Queen’s to-day.
    Kings and Princes and Lords of the land
    Shall ride behind her, a humble band;
    And over the city and over the world
    Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled,
    For the silent lady of royal birth
    Who is riding away from the Courts of earth,
    Riding away from the world’s unrest
    To a mystical goal, on a secret quest.

    The third stanza expands the poem’s reach to a world-wide scale; it depicts a grand procession led by the “Army and Navy,” followed by “Kings and Princes and Lords of the land.” 

    This imagery accurately portrays the historical reality of Queen Victoria’s funeral, which was a carefully orchestrated event, attended by foreign dignitaries, including other European royalty, and further punctuated with military honors. 

    Victoria’s rôle as the “grandmother (or godmother) of Europe” [6], with family ties to many royal houses, transformed her funeral as a diplomatic as well as a ceremonial occasion. 

    The speaker’s introduction of “Kings and Princes” emphasizes the international extent of her influence, while at the same time portraying the Queen as a unifying figure whose impact had been felt beyond national borders.

    The image of “Flags of all Nations” at half-mast further emphasizes the international impact of Victoria’s death. The half-mast flag, a world-wide symbol of mourning, reveals the widespread grief that accompanied the end of her reign, which correlated with the height of British imperial power. 

    The speaker’s claim of “all Nations” suggests the joint act of homage, which reinforces the queen’s rôle as a symbol of stability in an era of rapid expansion of colonies and often uncertain international alliances. 

    The stanza’s language, with its expansive scope and formal diction, parallels the grandeur of the funeral itself, which was formal display of imperial power as well as national unity.

    The latter half of the stanza introduces a spiritual element, as it describes the queen as a “silent lady of royal birth” who is “riding away from the Courts of earth” to a “mystical goal, on a secret quest.” 

    This move from earthly to astral realms corresponds to the Victorian interest in spirituality and the afterlife, a theme  that can be observed in tWilcox’ oeuvre as well. 

    The word “silent” invokes both the solemn nature of the funeral and the ineffable nature of death, while “mystical goal” and “secret quest” suggest a transcendental purpose beyond human understanding. 

    These phrases subtly suffuse the queen’s final journey with an element of divine mystery, which places her death as a possible passage to a higher plane of existence. The stanza thus melds the specifics of history with universal themes, which reflects both the public exhibition of the funeral and the private, spiritual implications for immortality.

    Stanza 4:  Emphasizing Simplicity

    Though in royal splendour she drives through town,
    Her robes are simple, she wears no crown:
    And yet she wears one, for, widowed no more,
    She is crowned with the love that has gone before,
    And crowned with the love she has left behind
    In the hidden depths of each mourner’s mind.

    The fourth stanza juxtaposes the queen’s “royal splendour” with her simplicity, noting that “Her robes are simple, she wears no crown.” (Note the use of the British spelling “splendour.”)

    This contrast furthermore demonstrates the historical portrayal of Victoria in her later years, especially after the death of her husband (consort) Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha in 1861, at which time she adopted a subdued public image; she often publicly appeared n simple black attire [7]. 

    The speaker’s stress on simplicity humanizes the queen and signals that she remained humble. Humility was a Victorian ideal, especially in the facing of death. However, the speaker reimagines the crown by portraying it as a metaphorical one, “crowned with the love that has gone before” and “crowned with the love she has left behind.” 

    This two-fold crowning advances Victoria’s legacy well beyond any material wealth and speeds it on to an enduring emotional and spiritual force.

    The reference to “love that has gone before” likely alludes to Prince Albert, whose death profoundly influenced Victoria’s life as all as her reign. The “love she has left behind” reaches to the mourners, who remain carrying love in the “hidden depths of [their] mind.” 

    This phrase suggests a personal, introspective connection to the queen, emphasizing her rôle as a beloved figure, whose influence continues in shared memory. The imagery of a crown of love elevates the traditional symbol of royalty to a universal emblem of affection and loyalty, which emphasizes the poem’s theme of legacy.

    The stanza’s language, with its emphasis on simplicity and emotional depth, reveals the poet’s skill in combining the personal and the public. 

    The regular rime scheme continues to provide a sense of order, which parallels the structured and controlled nature of the funeral procession, while the shift to metaphorical imagery introduces a more introspective tone. 

    By focusing on the queen’s emotional legacy, the speaker emphasizes the human dimension of her passing, inviting readers to reflect on their own bond with the monarch.

    Final Couplet 5: A Silent Farewell

    Bow low your heads—lift your hearts on high—
    The Queen in silence is driving by!

    The final couplet serves as a touching conclusion, urging readers to bow their heads as in prayer but also to take the occasion into their hearts with great feeling.  This duality speaks to the poem’s balance of grief and hope, a distinctive feature of all successful elegiac poetry. 

    The act of bowing heads signifies humility, respect, and mourning, while lifting hearts suggests a transcendence of earthly, physical plane sorrow, joining with the spiritual undercurrents introduced earlier. 

    The phrase “The Queen in silence is driving by” reinforces the solemn nature of the moment, with “silence” symbolizing both the reverence of the mourners and the ineffable nature of death. The repetition of “driving” ties back to the first stanza, creating a cyclical structure that simulates the the motion of the procession’s journey.

    The stanza’s commanding tone engages readers directly, inviting them to join in the shared act of mourning. This call to action reveals the Victorian practice of community grieving, where public displays of sorrow reinforced social continuity. 

    The upward gesture of lifting hearts also corresponds to the Christian tenet of resurrection and eternal life, which was cardinal to Victorian commemoration culture. 

    By concluding with this hopeful note, the speaker transforms the queen’s death into a moment of spiritual upliftment, an act which strongly suggests that her legacy will endure beyond the physical level of being.

    Wilcox’s Mastery

    Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s “The Queen’s Last Ride” remains a masterful elegy that explores the interaction between public presentation and private grief. 

    As both a historical, literary artifact and a timeless musing on death, “The Queen’s Last Ride” exemplifies Wilcox’s ability to blend individual emotional depth with public formal elegance, offering a fitting tribute to a queen whose reign influenced the culture and customs of an era.

    Sources

    [1]  Editors. “Exploring Purple Symbolism: From Royalty to Spirituality.” The Symbolism Hub. 2025.

    [2]  Greg Gillespie.  “What Does Purple Mean in the Victorian Era?” Vintage Printable Art.  June 23, 2023.

    [3] Curators. “Funeral procession of Queen Victoria, February 1901.”  Todays History.  February 1, 2019.

    [4]  Herman du Toit, editor.  Pageants and Processions: Images and Idiom as Spectacle. Cambridge Scholars Publishing.  2009. pdf.

    [5] Curators. “The History of Funeral Processions.” Sunset.  April 1, 2024.

    [6]  Editors.  “The ‘Godmother of Europe’: Queen Victoria’s Family Ties across the Continent.”  Accessed May 31, 2025.

    [7] Liam Doyle. “Royal Heartbreak: Why Did Queen Victoria Wear Black?” Express. September 17, 2020.

    Image:  Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

  • Ben Okri’s Poem “Obama”

    Image:  Ben Okri

    Ben Okri’s Poem “Obama”

    A no-achievement president confounds the ability of a poet, who tries to celebrate the outgoing leader but can find no achievements to celebrate.

    Introduction with Text of Ben Okri’s “Obama” 

    On Thursday, January 19, 2017, one day before the inauguration of Donald Trump as the 45th president of the United States of America, the U.S.A. edition of The Guardian published Ben Okri’s poem [1] simply titled “Obama,” about which the publication claimed, “With Donald Trump about to enter the White House, a poet celebrates the achievements of the outgoing president.”

    One will peruse Okri’s poem in vain looking of any achievements that might be associated with President #44.  One will also peruse this poem in vain looking for any “celebration.”  The poem offers four musings of a philosophical nature, each handled in each of the four movements that structure the piece:  

    1. “Sometimes the world is not changed / Till the right person appears who can / Change it.”
    2. “For it is our thoughts that make / Our world.”
    3. “Being a black president is not a magic wand / That will make all black problems disappear.”
    4. “And so what Obama did and did not do is neither / Here nor there, in the great measure of things.”

    Each musing remains a vague utterance, especially in relationship to its avowed subject.  The promise of celebrating achievements becomes a dumbfounded leitmotiv that like the Obama presidency fails to deliver anything substantial.

    Toward the end of the piece, the speaker even seems to have become aware that he had not, in fact, offered anything concrete regarding the achievements of this president.  Thus, he rehashes an old lie that people wanted this president to fail so they could support their racism.  

    For any opposition to a black president has to be racist! 

    The opposition cannot be opposing a black president because they do not agree with his policies; that opposition must be the result of the “race-hate, twin deity of America,” despite the blaring fact that that race-hateful America elected this black man to their highest office twice.

    Okri usually provides level-headed, balanced thinking on most issues, even the race issue.  He knows the difference between achievement and lack thereof; thus, in this poem, he has his speaker spouting philosophical stances and then only implying that they apply to Barack Obama. 

    Okri, the thinking man, knows that Barack Obama is the epitome of an “empty-suit.”  Obama can lay no claim to achievements accept negative ones.  This poem might even be considered one of those that “damn with faint praise” [2].

    Obama

    Sometimes the world is not changed
    Till the right person appears who can
    Change it. But the right person is also
    In a way the right time. For the time
    And the person have to work
    The secret alchemy together.
    But to change the world is more than
    Changing its laws. Sometimes it is just
    Being a new possibility, a portal
    Through which new fire can enter
    This world of foolishness and error.
    They change the world best who
    Change the way people think.

    For it is our thoughts that make
    Our world. Some think it is our deeds;
    But deeds are the children of thought.
    The thought-changers are the game-changers,
    Are the life-changers.
    We think that achievements are symbols.
    But symbols are not symbols.
    Obama is not a mere symbol.
    Sometimes even a symbol is a sign
    That we are not dreaming potently
    Enough. A sign that the world is the home
    Of possibility. A sign that our chains
    Are unreal. That we are freer than we
    Know, that we are more powerful than
    We dare to think. If he is a symbol at all,
    Then he is a symbol of our possible liberation.
    A symbol also that power in this world
    Cannot do everything. Even Moses could
    Not set his people free. They too had to
    Wander in the wilderness. They too turned
    Against their leaders and their God
    And had to overcome much in their
    Make up and their history to arrive
    At the vision their prophets had long before.

    Being a black president is not a magic wand
    That will make all black problems disappear.
    Leaders cannot undo all the evils that
    Structural evils make natural in the life
    Of a people. Not just leadership, but
    Structures must change. Structures of thought
    Structures of dreams structures of injustice
    Structures that keep a people imprisoned
    To the stones and the dust and the ash
    And the dirt and the dry earth and the dead
    Roads. Always we look to our leaders
    To change what we ourselves must change
    With the force of our voices and the force
    Of our souls and the strength of our dreams
    And the clarity of our visions and the strong
    Work of our hands. Too often we get fixated
    On symbols. We think fame ought to promote
    Our cause, that presidents ought to change our
    Destinies, that more black faces on television
    Would somehow make life easier and more just
    For our people. But symbols ought to only be
    A sign to us that the power is in our hands.
    Mandela ought to be a sign to us that we cannot
    Be kept down, that we are self-liberating.
    And Obama ought to be a sign to us that
    There is no destiny in colour. There is only
    Destiny in our will and our dreams and the storms
    Our “noes” can unleash and the wonder our “yesses”
    Can create. But we have to do the work ourselves
    To change the structures so that we can be free.
    Freedom is not colour; freedom is thought; it is an
    Attitude, a power of spirit, a constant self-definition.

    And so what Obama did and did not do is neither
    Here nor there, in the great measure of things.
    History knows what he did, against the odds.
    History knows what he could not do. Not that
    His hands were tied, but that those who resent
    The liberation of one who ought not to be liberated
    Blocked those doors and those roads and whipped
    Up those sleeping and not so sleeping demons
    Of race-hate, twin deity of America. And they turned
    His yes into a no just so they could say they told us so,
    Told us that colour makes ineffectuality, that colour
    Makes destiny. They wanted him to fail so they could
    Prove their case. Can’t you see it? But that’s what
    Heroes do: they come through in spite of all that blockage,
    All those obstacles thrown in the path of the self-liberated.
    That way the symbol would be tainted and would fail
    To be a beacon and a sign that it is possible
    To be black and to be great.

    Commentary on Ben Okri’s  “Obama”

    Ben Okri is a fine poet and thinker.  His unfortunate choice of subject matter for this piece, however, leads his speaker down a rocky path to nowhere.

    First Movement:  “Change”?  But Where is the “Hope”?

    The speaker of Okri’s “Obama” has a mighty task before him:  he must transform a sow’s ear into a silk purse.  And of course, that cannot be done.  But the speaker tries, beginning with some wide brush strokes that attempt to sound profound:  only the right person appearing at the right time can change with world.  

    Changing laws is not sufficient to change the world, so sometimes it is only a “new possibility” which functions like a new door “through with a new fire can enter.”  

    The speaker is, of course, implying that his subject, Obama, is that “portal” through which a new fire has entered.  Readers will note that the speaker is only implying such; he does not make any direct statement about Obama actually being that new door or new fire.

    The election of 2016, after eight years of this implied new fire that has supposedly changed the way people think, proved that American citizens were indeed thinking differently.

    They had grown tired of stagnant economic growth, the destruction of their health care system, the rampant lawlessness of illegal immigrants, the war on law enforcement officers fueled by that “hope and change” spouting candidate, the ironically deteriorated race relations, and the installation of a petty dictatorship fueled by political correctness.  

    This beckon of hope and change had promised to fundamentally change [3] the United States of America, and his policies indeed had put the country on a path to an authoritarian state from which the Founders had guarded the country through the U. S. Constitution.  Obama proceeded to flout that document as he ruled by executive order, circumventing the congress.

    Indeed, after those abominable, disastrous eight years, people’s minds had changed, and they wanted no more of those socialistic policies that were driving the country to the status of a Banana Republic.

    The speaker, of course, will never refer to any of the negative accomplishments of his subject, but also he will never refer to any positive accomplishment because there simply are none.  Thus, no achievement is mentioned in the opening movement.

    Five days away:  

    Second Movement:  Symbols, Signs, Still No Achievements

    The speaker then continues with the mere philosophizing, offering some useful ideas that have nothing to do with his subject.  He asserts the importance of thought, how thought is the mother of deeds.  He then begins an equivocating series of lines that indeed fit quite well with the shallow, misdirection of the subject about which he tries to offer a celebration.

    The speaker makes a bizarre, false claim, “We think that achievements are symbols.”  We do not think any such thing; we think that achievements are important, useful accomplishments.

    A presidential achievement represents some act which the leader has encouraged that results in better lives for citizens. 

    Americans had high hopes [4] that the very least this black president could achieve would be the continued improvement of race relations.  Those hopes were dashed as this president from his bully pulpit denigrated whole segments of society—the religious, the patriotic, and especially the members of law enforcement [5].  

    Obama damaged the reputation of the entire nation as he traveled on foreign soil, apologizing for American behavior [6] that had actually assisted those nations in their times of distress.  

    The speaker then ludicrously states, “symbols are not symbols,” which he follows with “Obama is not a mere symbol.”  

    In a kind of syllogistic attempt to define a symbol, the speaker admits the truth that Obama actually had no achievements. If achievements are symbols, and Obama is not a “mere” symbol, then we hold the notion that Obama does not equal achievements, except for whatever the word “mere” might add to the equation.

    But the speaker then turns from symbols to signs. Signs can show us whether we are dreaming correctly or not.  Signs can show us that we are more free than we know.  But if Obama is any kind of  symbol, he symbolizes “our possible liberation.”  

    But he is also a symbol that “power in this world / Cannot do everything.”  He then turns to Moses’ inability to liberate his people.

    The sheer inappropriateness of likening the lead-from-behind, atheistic Obama to the great historical, religious figure Moses boggles the mind.  The speaker then makes an astoundingly arrogant inference that Americans turning against Obama equates to Moses’ people turning against him “and their God.”  

    Americans turning against leader Obama means they will have to “wander in the wilderness” until they at last come to their senses and return to the “vision of their prophets.”

    The speaker again has offered only musings about symbols, signs, power, lack of power, dreams, and misdirection, but he offers nothing that Obama has done that could be called an achievement.

    Third Movement:  Color Is not Destiny

    This movement offers a marvelous summation of truths, which essentially places all leaders in their proper places.  Leaders can serve only as symbols or signs to remind citizens that only the people themselves have the power to change the structures of society that limit individuals.  

    Black presidents possess no “magic wand” with which to make all “black problems disappear.”  Even Nelson Mandela should serve only as a sign that we are all “self-liberating.”

    The speaker rightly laments that we tend to look to our leaders to perform for us the very acts that we must perform for ourselves.  Our leaders cannot guarantee our inner freedom, only we can do that. 

    He asserts that Obama must remain only a sign that there is “no destiny in colour.”  Our destiny is in our own will and in our own dreams. 

    The speaker correctly asserts, “Freedom is not colour; freedom is thought; it is an / Attitude, a power of spirit, a constant self-definition.”

    Sadly, Obama has never demonstrated that he understands the position taken in Okri’s third movement.  Obama is so steeped in political correctness and radical collectivism that he always denigrates the stereotypical white privileged over the stereotypical groups of race, gender, nationality, and religion.  

    Obama’s warped, highly partisan stance would never accept the statements about freedom as described by Okri.  Obama believes that only the state can grant freedom to the proper constituencies as it punishes others.  Okri’s analysis runs counter to the Obama worldview [7].

    Thus, again, in its third movement, this poem that claims to be a celebration of the presidential achievements of the 44th president offers only philosophical musings, and although some of those musings state an accurate position, there still remains no positive achievement that can attach to Obama.

    Fourth Movement:  Obama, Neither Here nor There 

    With complete accuracy once again, Okri’s speaker states baldly, “And so what Obama did and did not do is neither / Here nor there, in the great measure of things.”  Certainly, one who looks for positive achievements will find the blandness of this statement on the mark.  The speaker then adds that history will record what Obama did and also what he was unable to do.

    Then the narrative goes totally off the rails.  American racists, those “racists” who had elected this black president twice, threw up road blocks that limited this president’s accomplishments.  

    They wanted him to fail because being black he had no right to succeed.  The speaker implies that those American racists thought that this black president did not deserve liberation, meaning they thought he should be a slave—a ludicrous, utterly false claim. 

    The speaker then concludes with a weak implication that Obama is a hero, who demonstrated that it is possible to be “black and to be great”:  

    They wanted him to fail so they could
    Prove their case. Can’t you see it? But that’s what
    Heroes do: they come through in spite of all that blockage,
    All those obstacles thrown in the path of the self-liberated.
    That way the symbol would be tainted and would fail
    To be a beacon and a sign that it is possible
    To be black and to be great.

    The problem with this part of the narrative again is, on the one hand, that it is only an implication, not a positive statement making the claim that Obama was, in fact, a hero; on the other hand, it is obvious why the speaker would only imply these positive qualities to Obama:  the man is not a hero; indeed, he is a fraud [8].  

    Fraudulent Claims of Literary Prowess

    There is a certain bit of irony in having a poem attempt to celebrate the achievements of a colossal fraud [9].  Nowhere is the evidence of Obama’s characteristic as a fraud more evident than in his claims to have written his two books, Dreams from My Father, and The Audacity of Hope. 

    Jack Cashill’s “Who Wrote Dreams from My Father?” [10] offers convincing evidence that Barack Obama could not have written the books he claims to have authored.  And Cashill continues his analysis of Obama’s writing skills in “Who Wrote Audacity of Hope?” [11].

    Writing in the Illinois Review, Mark Rhoads [12] poses the same question regarding the Obama works.  Even Obama’s presidential library [13] will offer no evidence that the president possessed any literary skills.

    Clearly, Okri’s poem provides a mélange of attitudes toward its subject.  On the one hand, it wants to praise the outgoing president, but on the other, it simply can find nothing with which to do so. 

    That the poem concludes with a bald-face lie is unfortunate, but understandable.  Still, it cannot hide the truth:  that Barack Obama offered it no achievements, which it could celebrate; at best, only phony ones [14].

    Sources

    [1]  Ben Okri.  “Barack Obama: a celebration in verse.”  The Guardian.  January 19, 2017.

    [2] Alexander Pope.  Rape of the Lock and Other Poems.  Project Gutenberg.  October 18, 2003.

    [3]  Barack Obama. “We Are 5 Days From Fundamentally Transforming America.” YouTube.  Feb 2, 2012.

    [4] Jeffrey M. Jones. “In U.S., Obama Effect on Racial Matters Falls Short of Hopes.” Gallup. August 11, 2016.

    [5]  Ben Smith. “Obama on small-town Pa.: Clinging to religion, guns, xenophobia.”  Politico.  April 11, 2008.

    [6]   Nile Gardiner and Morgan Lorraine Roach.  “Barack Obama’s Top 10 Apologies: How the President Has Humiliated a Superpower.”  The Heritage Foundation.  June 2, 2009.

    [7]  Andrew Miller.  “Unriddling the Radical Worldview of President Obama.”  The Trumpet. January 2016.

    [8]  Andrew McCarthy.  “Obama’s Massive Fraud.”  National Review Online.  November 9, 2013.

    [9]  Jack Cashill.  “‘Roots,’ ‘Dreams,’ and the Unequal Punishment of Fraud.”  The American Spectator.  December 26, 2021.

    [10]   – – – . “Who Wrote Dreams From My Father?” American Thinker.  October 9, 2008.

    [11]  – – – .  “The Question the Times Should Have Asked ‘Writer’ Barack Obama.”  The American Spectator.  January 25, 2017.

    [12]  Mark Rhoads.  “Did Obama Write ‘Dreams from My Father or ‘Audacity of Hope’?”  Illinois Review. October 16, 2008.

    [13] Lolly Bowean.  “Without archives on site, how will Obama Center benefit area students, scholars?”  Chicago Tribune. October 8, 2017.

    [14]  Jennifer Rubin.  “Obama’s phony accomplishments leave us worse off.”  Washington Post.  Feb. 12, 2016.

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  • Sharon Olds’ “The Victims”

    Image: Sharon Olds – Illustration by Rebecca Clarke – The New Yorker

    Sharon Olds’ “The Victims”

    In her customary fashion, poetaster Sharon Olds offers up this deeply flawed, dishonest hit-piece, “The Victims,” which does little more for humanity than showcase a handful of stark images.  

    Introduction with Text of  “The Victims”

    According to noted poetry critic, Helen Vendler, Sharon Olds’ poetry comes across as  “self- indulgent, sensationalist, and even pornographic.”  And as former poet laureate Billy Collins averred:  Olds is “a poet of sex and the psyche” “infamous for her subject matter alone.”  

    And even though Collins attempted to add some faint praise, “but her closer readers know her as a poet of constant linguistic surprise,” those linguistic surprises consisting of stark images only function to undermine her attempt to produce any genuine poetry.

    Although “The Victims” is one of Olds’ least “pornographic” efforts, the piece clearly demonstrates egotistical self-indulgence and egregious sensationalism.  Such writing smacks more of loose-mused regurgitation than real cogitation on genuine emotion. 

    This unhappy piece consists of 26 uneven lines of free verse that sit in a lump chunk on the page and suffer from the customary Oldsian haphazard line breaks.

    The Victims

    When Mother divorced you, we were glad. She took it and
    took it in silence, all those years and then
    kicked you out, suddenly, and her
    kids loved it. Then you were fired, and we
    grinned inside, the way people grinned when
    Nixon’s helicopter lifted off the South
    Lawn for the last time. We were tickled
    to think of your office taken away,
    your secretaries taken away,
    your lunches with three double bourbons,
    your pencils, your reams of paper. Would they take your
    suits back, too, those dark
    carcasses hung in your closet, and the black
    noses of your shoes with their large pores?
    She had taught us to take it, to hate you and take it
    until we pricked with her for your
    annihilation, Father. Now I
    pass the bums in doorways, the white
    slugs of their bodies gleaming through slits in their
    suits of compressed silt, the stained
    flippers of their hands, the underwater
    fire of their eyes, ships gone down with the
    lanterns lit, and I wonder who took it and
    took it from them in silence until they had
    given it all away and had nothing
    left but this.

    Commentary on “The Victims”

    The piece breaks into two parts: the first is a description of how the speaker and her family felt way back a few decades when she was a child, and the second part jumps to what the speaker observes and thinks as an adult.

    First Movement:  Hindsight Sometimes Less Than 20/20 

    The speaker of the poem is an adult looking back at the break up of her family roughly around the time that her mother divorced her father. The speaker is addressing the father, telling him how glad she and the family were after the mother divorced the father.  

    The speaker and her siblings were glad because she “took it // in silence, all those years.” What she, and perhaps they, silently endured is left up to the reader to imagine, and that omission is a major flaw that leads the poem astray.  

    No two divorces are alike.  By leaving such an important motive to the imagination of the reader, the speaker weakens the thrust of her accusations against the father. The only hint of the father’s misdeeds is that he enjoyed three alcoholic beverages with his lunch.  

    Admittedly, that could present a problem, but by no means does it always do so.  Some individuals can handle a few drinks better than others, and the fact that the father seemed to have functioned in his job for a considerable period of time hints that he might have been competent in his job.

    On the other hand, the mother influenced her children in a grossly negative way, causing them to hate their father and wish him dead. 

    Apparently, the mother teaches her children to hate their father simply because he had three double bourbons for lunch or so we must assume because no other accusation is leveled against the poor man. 

    Maybe the father was a cruel alcoholic, who beat the mother and children, but there is no evidence to support that idea. And if that were the case, stark images of bruises and broken bones would surely have made an appearance in the little drama.

    The father was fired from his job, but only after the mother kicked him out. Would he have been able to keep his job to that point in his life, if he had been an out of control, cruel drunk?  Perhaps he became depressed and without purpose after being forced to leave his family and sank further into alcohol. 

    The gratuitous allusion to “Nixon’s helicopter,” carrying the newly resigned president from office, further inserts the nastiness of a political hit-piece, adding nothing to the drama except the suggestion that the family likely voted for Democrats.

    One has to wonder if the speaker and her fellow travelers would have “grinned” so readily, if a helicopter had lifted off the South Lawn carrying  Jimmy Carter or Bill Clinton.

    So the reader has no evidence that the father was guilty of anything, but the mother taught the kids to hate the father and wish for his death. The mother comes across as a less sympathetic character than the father.

    Second Movement:  Appalling Prejudice Revealed

    The speaker now begins her report on what she sees and how she thinks in her current life situation that has been tainted by her past.  She begins to observe homeless men sleeping in doorways. 

    It becomes clear that it is those homeless men in the doorway who are reminding the speaker of her father getting kicked out of their home and getting fired from his job.  

    The speaker then speculates about those men about whom readers can be sure she knows absolutely nothing.  She wonders about the lives of those homeless men, whom she calls “bums.”  

    She wonders if their families “took it” from those men the way her family supposedly took it from her father.  But again, the reader remains clueless about what it is the family “took.” 

    What an arrogant reaction! Without one whit of evidence that these “bums” did anything to anyone, the speaker simply presumes that they are like her father, who lost it all because of what he (and now they) supposedly did.

    But the reader still does not even know what the father did. They do know what the mother did; she taught her children to hate the father and wish him dead. 

    Stark, Colorful Images

    This poem, like many of Sharon Olds’ poems, offers some colorful descriptions.  The father’s business suits are rendered “dark / caresses” hanging the closet.  His shoes sport “black / noses //with their large pores.”  

    Those homeless men are name called “bums” because they are lying “in doorways.”  Their bodies are dehumanized and portrayed as “white / slugs.” 

    Those slugs shine “through slits” in compacted dirt, revealing their compromised hygiene after being homeless for a protracted length of time.  Their hands resemble “stained / flippers,” again dehumanized.  

    Their eyes remind this flippant speaker, who lacks compassion for her fellow human beings, of ships that have sunken with their “lanterns lit.”

    Would that all of those colorful images resided in a better place and without the lack of humanity this speaker reveals about herself.   Those “linguistic surprises,” however, function only to render the speaker and the so-called victims as the actual perpetrators of despicable acts.

    Although the speaker wishes to foist bad  behavior onto first her father and then onto homeless men, she cannot escape the rebuttal that she has failed to indict her father and that she knows nothing about those homeless “bums.” 

    This ugly piece remains questionable and appears to have been created solely for the purpose of showcasing a handful of stark, colorful images.

  • Angela Manalang Gloria’s “To the Man I Married”

    Image: Angela Manalang Gloria and her husband

    Angela Manalang Gloria’s “To the Man I Married”

    Angela Manalang Gloria’s poem “To the Man I Married” presents an extended metaphor in which the speaker likens her love for her husband to her existential dependence on the earth. 

    Introduction and Text of “To the Man I Married”

    This metaphor functions on both physical and spiritual levels, suggesting that her partner sustains and orients her life in a manner analogous to the natural elements necessary for survival.

    To the Man I Married

    I

    You are my earth and all the earth implies:
    The gravity that ballasts me in space,
    The air I breathe, the land that stills my cries
    For food and shelter against devouring days.

    You are the earth whose orbit marks my way
    And sets my north and south, my east and west,
    You are the final, elemented clay
    The driven heart must turn to for its rest.

    If in your arms that hold me now so near
    I lift my keening thoughts to Helicon
    As trees long rooted to the earth uprear
    Their quickening leaves and flowers to the sun,

    You who are earth, O never doubt that I
    Need you no less because I need the sky!

    II

    I cannot love you with a love
            That outcompares the boundless sea,
    For that were false, as no such love
            And no such ocean can ever be.
    But I can love you with a love
            As finite as the wave that dies
    And dying holds from crest to crest
            The blue of everlasting skies.

    Section I

    The first section of the poem adheres to the formal structure of the English (or Shakespearean) sonnet, consisting of three quatrains and a concluding couplet.

    First Quatrain: The Husband as Life-Sustaining Force

    You are my earth and all the earth implies:
    The gravity that ballasts me in space,
    The air I breathe, the land that stills my cries
    For food and shelter against devouring days.

    The speaker opens with a striking declaration, asserting her husband’s indispensable role in her existence by comparing him to the earth itself. The metaphor extends through a catalogue of essential elements: gravity, air, land, and sustenance. 

    These earthly necessities are paralleled with emotional and material support offered by her husband, suggesting that her survival—both physical and emotional—depends as much on him as it does on the natural world.

    Second Quatrain: He Provides Orientation and Final Rest

    You are the earth whose orbit marks my way
    And sets my north and south, my east and west,
    You are the final, elemented clay
    The driven heart must turn to for its rest.

    The second quatrain deepens the metaphor, portraying the husband as the source of direction and purpose in the speaker’s life. The reference to cardinal directions implies that her sense of order and orientation derives from their shared life. 

    The closing lines evoke mortality and rest, implying that just as the earth will eventually receive her physical body in death, her husband provides emotional and spiritual repose during life.

    Third Quatrain: Acknowledging Other Affections

    If in your arms that hold me now so near
    I lift my keening thoughts to Helicon
    As trees long rooted to the earth uprear
    Their quickening leaves and flowers to the sun,

    Here, the speaker introduces a subtle shift. While affirming her deep attachment to her husband, she also acknowledges her intellectual and spiritual aspirations. 

    The allusion to Helicon, a mountain sacred to the Muses in Greek mythology, evokes poetic inspiration. Her longing for the transcendent does not diminish her love for her husband; rather, it coexists with it, just as rooted trees still reach toward the sun.

    The Couplet: Coexistence of Earthly and Celestial Needs

    You who are earth, O never doubt that I
    Need you no less because I need the sky!

    The final couplet affirms the central thesis of the poem: the speaker’s need for transcendence (symbolized by “the sky”) does not negate her need for the grounding, stabilizing presence of her husband (symbolized by “the earth”). 

    Instead, both are essential, suggesting a balanced view of human experience as encompassing both the corporeal and the aspirational.

    Section II

    The second part of “To the Man I Married” diverges from the sonnet form and appears in two quatrains, adopting a more reflective tone. Here, the speaker qualifies the grand metaphors of the first section with a more tempered, realistic assessment of love.

    First Quatrain: Rejection of Hyperbolic Metaphors

    I cannot love you with a love
    That outcompares the boundless sea,
    For that were false, as no such love
    And no such ocean can ever be.

    In this stanza, the speaker resists the temptation to describe her love through hyperbole. She dismisses the comparison to the “boundless sea” as false, recognizing the limitations of human emotion and language. 

    This moment of self-awareness introduces a more grounded view of romantic love.

    Second Quatrain: Finite Love Reflecting the Infinite

    But I can love you with a love
    As finite as the wave that dies
    And dying holds from crest to crest
    The blue of everlasting skies.

    Although she renounces the oceanic metaphor, the speaker reintroduces the image of water through the wave. Unlike the sea, the wave is finite and mortal, yet it captures and reflects the sky’s infinity. 

    In this subtle turn, Gloria suggests that even within human limitations, love can embody and reflect transcendence.