O I want to know God—not just the name The one that crazed humanity has done That deity so styled is not the same
I seek only the word that speaks from flame I seek answers beyond the rising sun O I want to know God—not just the name
Though I may speak harsh words that often blame Those whose thoughts twist and turn where truth is spun That deity so styled is not the same
True love should speak true words that do not claim To say what can’t be said and be undone O I want to know God—not just the name
I shall go on searching for here I came To attune myself under the warm sun That deity so styled is not the same
Craving will leave me lost inside this frame Knowing will leave all doubt to be undone O I want to know God—not just the name That deity so styled is not the same
Basically a flaming atheist, Wendell P. Bloyd, blames his ultimate death on his blasphemy, which, in fact, merely consisted of his misinterpretation of a few lines from the Genesis creation story.
Introduction and Text of “Wendell P. Bloyd”
In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Wendell P. Bloyd” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker professes a flawed interpretation of the Genesis creation myth, implying that he ultimately died because of his “blasphemy.” Likely, Bloyd wants his listeners to infer either some irony or logical consequence after he reports that he was, “beaten to death by a Catholic guard.”
Wendell P. Bloyd
They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard. My offense was this: I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life. For Christ’s sake, you sensible people, Here’s what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: “And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us” (a little envy, you see), “To know good and evil” (The all-is-good lie exposed): “And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the garden of Eden.” (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
Commentary on“Wendell P. Bloyd”
The flaming atheist, Wendell P. Bloyd, blames his ultimate death on his blasphemy, which, in fact, merely consisted of his misinterpretation of a few lines from the Genesis creation story.
First Movement: Committed
They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard.
Wendell P. Bloyd reports that he had been committed to an insane asylum, where he was killed by a Catholic guard. Bloyd begins his diatribe by railing against an amorphous “they” who first charged him with “disorderly conduct.”
According to Bloyd “they” charged him as disorderly for the simple reason that “there [is] no statute on blasphemy.” Then this nameless “they” committed him to an asylum for the insane, where he met his death at the hands of the guard. Of course, it is important to note that the guard was “Catholic.”
Second Movement: Interpretation
I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple
Bloyd then begins to explain what his real offense was. He was not disorderly or insane, he merely offered his interpretation of Genesis, specifically Genesis 3:22:
And the LORD God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever. (King James Version)
“They” used the excuses of disorderedly conduct and insanity to lock Bloyd up because of his belief that God lied to Adam and Eve and then expelled them from the Garden of Eden before they could become immortal. Bloyd claims that God lied to Adam and Eve and influenced them to lead their lives as fools, unaware that both good and evil exist in the world.
Third Movement: Outsmarting God
And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life.
Bloyd continues his dimwitted interpretation by claiming that Adam outsmarted God when he and Eve ate the apple and thus understood that they had been lied to. And then God drove them from the Garden before they could acquire the ability to become immoral.
Fourth Movement: Exposing a Lie
For Christ’s sake, you sensible people, Here’s what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: “And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us” (a little envy, you see), “To know good and evil” (The all-is-good lie exposed): “And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the garden of Eden.” (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
In this final movement, Bloyd quotes the excerpt from the Bible, Genesis 3:22 from which he has gleaned the notion that God told Adam and Eve a lie but Adam exposed the lie and thus was expelled from paradise. The problem with Bloyd’s conclusion is that he misunderstands the reason for Adam and Eve’s having been admonished against eating the “apple.”
Eating the apple, which is a metaphor for engaging in sex and animal propagation, was forbidden because that activity would cause the consciousness in the newly created beings to fall from the brain down the spine to the coccyx.
In the Genesis story of creation, the “tree of life” is the human body, not life in general. The “knowledge of good and evil” also does not refer to those qualities in the world but as the human mind and body falling under the spell of the dualities and having to live under that spell.
Before the consciousness fell from the brain to the coccyx, the human’s consciousness was God-united, superconsciousness. As long as the human consciousness was God-united, it was already like God, comprehending all, possessing all power, and aware that it existed eternally.
It was after the fall that human consciousness became confined, having to live under the spell of mayic (satanic) delusion, the qualities of good and evil, unable to access the astral and causal levels of existence with ease as it would have been before.
God complained, “the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil.” God is not saying that before the fall man did not know the difference between good and evil, but instead he saying that man did not have to live according to the restraints of the dualities of the physical world before the fall.
Before the fall, for example, humans could bring children into existence without sexual intercourse between the pair and the woman having to carry the new life in her womb and then give birth. They could procreate immaculately, simply by thinking the new being into existence. When man became “as one of us,” he did not, in fact, become as a god; quite the opposite, he lost that quality.
Man by disobeying his first commandment demonstrated a hubris that made him think he could disobey without punishment. In other words, God is saying, “man now only thinks he is one of us, thus we must preclude his ability to live forever with this fallen, delusive state of mind.”
Therefore, God merely completed the process that Adam started when he ate the “apple.” But because Adam and Eve were now destined to live under Maya—the world of dualities of good and evil—God completed the expulsion from paradise in order to keep fallen humankind from living forever in that fallen state.
In order to live forever, the human being must once again take his consciousness up the spine to the brain where it will again unite with true Divine Consciousness, as it had been in the beginning of its creation.
Bloyd’s Parenthetical
Bloyd’s final remark rests in parentheses:
(The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
This remark puts the final cap on Bloyd’s useless and impaired reasoning, and it does so in a clumsy rhetorical structure as it gums up Bloyd’s stance of the issue.
Perhaps Bloyd thinks that by perpetuating another outrageous act, God could divert the attention of folks away from this initial “wretched” situation. But, in fact, if folks have great difficulty understanding the Genesis creation story, they will not let God off the hook for “crucif[ying] His Own Son.”
Despite his seeming atheism, the interesting factoid about this final parenthetical is that Bloyd sounds almost as if he is simply angry with God, not that he does not even believe in the existence of God. Or maybe he just hates Catholics!
Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
Emily Dickinson’s “A throe upon the features”
The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “A throe upon the features” is exploring the mystery of death, presenting physical encasement departure as a passage to spiritual reunion and liberation.
Introduction and Text of “A throe upon the features”
In Emily Dickinson’s “A throe upon the features,” the speaker is contemplating the experience of death and the anguish that accompanies its consideration. Her speaker presents death as a dramatic departure from earthly existence, while suggesting that patience and spiritual understanding can transform the fear of separation into an opportunity for reunion with the Divine Reality.
The speaker initially describes the physical manifestations of death, including the contortions of the face and the hurried breath. However, she then introduces the intriguing expression “An ecstasy of parting.”
Such a notion does suggest that death involves something more than the cessation of physical life. The second stanza further develops this idea by introducing the prospect of rejoining a sacred reality that belongs to the soul’s essential nature.
A throe upon the features
A throe upon the features – A hurry in the breath – An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death” –
An anguish at the mention Which when to patience grown, I’ve known permission given To rejoin its own.
Commentary on “A throe upon the features”
This Dickinson gem offers a fascinating view of death, presenting its outward physical manifestations alongside the event featuring an inward spiritual experience. The speaker gradually moves from physical anguish toward the inevitability of a more profound reunion.
First Stanza: The Physical Manifestations and Spiritual Possibility of Death
A throe upon the features – A hurry in the breath – An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death” –
In the first stanza, the speaker begins by describing the physical appearance of an individual approaching death. The word “throe” suggests an intense spasm or pang, while “upon the features” directs attention to the visible contortions of the face.
The next line, “A hurry in the breath,” adds another physical manifestation of the dying process. Breathing becomes hurried and irregular, suggesting that the body’s ordinary functions are approaching their conclusion.
However, the speaker then introduces a surprising expression: “An ecstasy of parting.” Rather than describing death exclusively as an agonizing experience, she insists that departure from earthly existence involves an extraordinary release.
The word “ecstasy” introduces an entirely different dimension. It denotes an experience of intense spiritual joy, one that cannot be understood through ordinary physical sense perception.
The speaker then identifies this mysterious experience as “Death.” The capitalization emphasizes the importance of this event, while “Denominated” indicates that death is the name humanity assigns to an experience whose deeper significance remains largely mysterious.
Paramahansa Yogananda offers an intriguing parallel in his teachings about the soul’s departure from the physical body. In “Understanding Death and Loss,” the great guru explains that after the initial fear associated with death, “the soul feels a joyous sense of relief and freedom.”
That concept offers an interesting spiritual interpretation of the speaker’s “ecstasy of parting.” What appears to earthly observers as a painful departure, in fact, represents a liberation from physical limitations.
Second Stanza: Patience and Permission to Rejoin Its Own
An anguish at the mention Which when to patience grown, I’ve known permission given To rejoin its own.
The second stanza introduces the emotional consequences of contemplating death. The speaker acknowledges “An anguish at the mention,” revealing that merely discussing death can produce considerable distress.
The word “anguish” conveys a much deeper disturbance than ordinary sadness. The thought of separation, particularly from those whom one loves, can produce an almost unbearable emotional response.
However, the speaker introduces an important qualification: “Which when to patience grown.” This expression affirms that anguish need not remain in its original, distressing condition. As patience develops, the individual’s understanding of death cundergoes a transformation.
The next two lines present the most intriguing idea in the poem: “I’ve known permission given / To rejoin its own.” The speaker avers that something previously separated eventually receives permission to return to its rightful place.
The expression “its own” may seem mysterious. The speaker does not identify precisely what is being reunited or the nature of the reunion, but her deliberate vagueness can be interpreted as none other than the soul returning to its spiritual source.
To add the ideas that the speaker may also be referring to the restoration of a relationship that physical death temporarily interrupts is simply to misunderstand the gravity of the exact union to which the speaker is referring. Paramahansa Yogananda offers a closely related spiritual concept in his teachings about the immortality of the soul.
The great yogi-guru explains that the soul is not destroyed by departing the body and that death does not terminate the individual’s essential spiritual existence. His teachings therefore offer a meaningful perspective on the nature of reunion affirmed by Dickinson’s concluding lines.
In my earlier essays on Dickinson’s poems, I have discussed the speaker’s recognition that death cannot eliminate the deeper experiences of the soul. In “I measure every Grief I meet,” the speaker considers the persistence of suffering beyond physical death. That discussion offers an interesting contrast to the present poem, where the speaker introduces the act of release and reunion.
The word “permission” is particularly intriguing because it affirms that the reunion does not occur through human determination alone. Some greater authority (the Divine Reality or God) actually governs the circumstances under which separation ends.
Thus, the speaker moves from the anguish associated with contemplating death toward the reality of spiritual restoration. Patience seems to provide the necessary transformation in understanding, allowing the individual to contemplate departure without remaining imprisoned by fear.
The final expression, “To rejoin its own,” leaves readers with a tantalizing reality. The speaker does not need to explain the precise nature of the reunion: it is the soul that belongs to that spiritual realm and “its own” can only be the Blessèd Creator, the Divine, Reality, God, or Spirit..
In this little gem, Dickinson’s speaker demonstrates that death possesses a significance far beyond its outward physical manifestations. What appears to be an ending actually represents a return to the spiritual realm of existence that remains eternally one’s own.
Attorney Fallas’ life was dedicated to acquiring knowledge about ministering to the mentally challenged in order to care for his son, who suffered brain damage while being born.
Introduction and Text of State’s Attorney Fallas
State’s Attorney Fallas became the seeker of justice for the wife murderer, Barry Holden. But his own life was influenced by an accident of birth when his son was left mentally challenged by the actions of a doctor.
State’s Attorney Fallas
I, the scourge-wielder, balance-wrecker, Smiter with whips and swords; I, hater of the breakers of the law; I, legalist, inexorable and bitter, Driving the jury to hang the madman, Barry Holden, Was made as one dead by light too bright for eyes, And woke to face a Truth with bloody brow: Steel forceps fumbled by a doctor’s hand Against my boy’s head as he entered life Made him an idiot. I turned to books of science To care for him. That’s how the world of those whose minds are sick Became my work in life, and all my world. Poor ruined boy! You were, at last, the potter And I and all my deeds of charity The vessels of your hand.
Commentary “State’s Attorney Fallas”
Attorney Fallas’s life was dedicated to acquiring knowledge about ministering to the mentally challenged in order to care for his son, who suffered brain damage while being born.
First Movement: Self-Portrait
I, the scourge-wielder, balance-wrecker, Smiter with whips and swords; I, hater of the breakers of the law; I, legalist, inexorable and bitter, Driving the jury to hang the madman, Barry Holden, Was made as one dead by light too bright for eyes, And woke to face a Truth with bloody brow:
The state attorney begins by describing himself. He paints a picture of a severe man who is a “hater of the breakers of law.” He is a bitter man, and he freely admits it. He also embellishes his past action with claims such as “smiter with whips and swords,” more likely with words and arguments because after all he is a “legalist.”
In that role as legalist, State Attorney Fallas managed to persuade a “the jury to hang the madman, Barry Holden.” Interestingly, Fallas rather glides over Barry Holden by making the simple claim that he was able to bring about the corporal punishment of the wife murderer.
Readers are just coming off the “Barry Holden” epitaph, in which they learned of the depravity of Holden, who was influenced by watching a jury trial of a doctor who murdered his pregnant lover. While readers might hanker for more information about Holden, they can be slaked just to know that Holden did hang for his crime.
Now we must move on to the man, who was able to have the madman hanged. And the state attorney turns out to be a rather colorful and wide-ranging character. Though a sad and bitter man, he turns out to be a compassionate man, who tried to offer aid and comfort to his disabled son.
Second Movement: Damaged Son
Steel forceps fumbled by a doctor’s hand Against my boy’s head as he entered life Made him an idiot.
The central motivating factor in the state attorney’s life is described in this movement. As the man’s son was coming into this world, a doctor employed the use of forceps but badly mishandled the instrument, leaving the boy to live with a damaged brain.
Attorney Fallas frames the boy’s condition a being that of an “idiot.” This term used be a technical term used in psychology in a classification system for mental retardation. Now the system, the terms, even the term “mental retardation” have all been axed, yielding to the creeping distortions of political correctness.
Therefore, Fallas was not calling his son an offensive name; he was giving the prevailing label of those with an I.Q. rating of under 25 and the mental capacity of under three years old.
Third Movement: Loss of Equanimity
I turned to books of science To care for him. That’s how the world of those whose minds are sick Became my work in life, and all my world.
Attorney Fallas then reports that because of his son’s infirmity he started to read “books of science” to figure out the best methods for caring for his severely mentally challenged son. The attorney then makes the startling claim that the world of those mentally sick became his main focus in life. That study become “all my world.”
His intensity in pursuing knowledge regarding the mentally challenged flooded his life, likely making it difficult to face certain legal cases with equanimity. As the attorney faced down the madman, Barry Holden, he was likely keenly aware of the difference between the mentally challenged and the criminally insane.
Fourth Movement: Molded by Circumstances
Poor ruined boy! You were, at last, the potter And I and all my deeds of charity The vessels of your hand.
The attorney then address his son, exclaiming, “Poor ruined boy!” Fallas again makes a startling claim: metaphorically, he likens himself to a piece of clay that has continued to be molded on a potter’s wheel by his son and his son’s condition. The son has served as the “potter,” who molded the attorney’s life.
All the ministrations the state attorney has offered his son and all that the attorney has done for “charity” have come about because of his son’s mental challenge, which the state attorney wished to ameliorate with his care and attention.
Combating the Rain: A Suite of Five Fractured Poems
“We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.” —W. Somerset Maugham
I. They Dream Spring
They dream spring Under slow, gray clouds Where the lies They tell themselves Are as wet And transparent As the rain
Where all she knows About him Is hanging From the plants She kept alive While he Was away
Too bad he goes Before strawberry season Before planting Tomatoes, cucumbers And cabbages
II. Her Words
If her words could move like the wind, They would form his face in the clouds. They would hang in the tops of the trees, Gently hovering a nest Where a mother bird sits on eggs The color of his eyes.
III. Anticipation of the Vernal Equinox
Baby will not kick her walls again Empty womb forever In a house that will not rock And groan with the new born Empty breasts not needed No new tiny lips to suck out milk Two babies came made her body Made her house ready for babies Empty tubes cut & burned Baby she is ready for Comes each month As far as the scar
IV. The Break
The zipper at the back of her neck Catches hairs That break in sharp snaps— Like his words As he jumped over the couch spitting out: ‘it’s your fucking fault’—
She knows it’s her fucking fault. If his spit could put out The fire in her head Her eyes would spew him A smoky thanks And her excuses would fall at his feet Humble ashes.
V. Between Slices of Bread
His tongue cuts Slices of meat From the hearts And livers Of those Who would love him
From between his teeth He picks pieces of flesh That pours from each victim— A stuck hog
Image created by Grok/Gemini inspired by the villanelle
Without Thee Lord No Meaning
Thou didst form me Lord and set my soul free Which dressed my days in doubt and illusion Without Thee Lord no meaning can there be
Thou gavest me free will to choose to see Yet let me roam about in confusion Thou didst form me Lord and set my soul free
Thou dost know that sorrow grows deep in me This day cannot promise me elusion Without Thee Lord no meaning can there be
I once was Thine—Thou bid’st me go from Thee I seek home in Thee as my conclusion Thou didst form me Lord and set my soul free
O Thou surely hast some pure goal for me I lost my faith living in seclusion Without Thee Lord no meaning can there be
I tread the path that leads me back to Thee Long and hard the road steeped in delusion Thou didst form me Lord and set my soul free Without Thee Lord no meaning can there be
“Barry Holden” became fascinated by the murder trial of Dr. Duval, who stands accused of murdering his pregnant lover Zora Clemens.
Introduction and Text of “Barry Holden”
In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Barry Holden” from the American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker begins by letting his listeners know that he is the brother of Nancy Knapp, who in a fit of insanity burned down her own house.
By the time he is finished, the reader will cringe at the brutal act he commits. That Holden couples his confession with what he heard at a murder trial just piles more flaws onto his already flawed character.
Barry Holden
The very fall my sister Nancy Knapp Set fire to the house They were trying Dr. Duval For the murder of Zora Clemens, And I sat in the court two weeks Listening to every witness. It was clear he had got her in a family way; And to let the child be born Would not do. Well, how about me with eight children, And one coming, and the farm Mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes? And when I got home that night, (After listening to the story of the buggy ride, And the finding of Zora in the ditch,) The first thing I saw, right there by the steps, Where the boys had hacked for angle worms, Was the hatchet! And just as I entered there was my wife, Standing before me, big with child. She started the talk of the mortgaged farm, And I killed her.
Commentary on “Barry Holden”
“Barry Holden” couples his own desperate and despicable act with the murder trial of Dr. Duval, who stands accused of murdering his pregnant lover Zora Clemens.
First Movement: A Murder Trial
The very fall my sister Nancy Knapp Set fire to the house They were trying Dr. Duval For the murder of Zora Clemens, And I sat in the court two weeks Listening to every witness.
During the same autumn season that his sister, Nancy Knapp, burned down her house, Barry Holden sat in a courtroom for two weeks listening to the witnesses give testimony in a murder trial. Dr. Duval was on trial for the murder of Zora Clemens.
It is unclear if Barry is suggesting that he was serving as a juror or whether he was just fascinated by the details of the murder as he listened carefully to each witness. It may be that he is trying to establish his good character or perhaps he is just a crazy, addled-brain criminal just as his sister was.
It does seem odd that he would continue to come to court every day for two weeks, unless he was, in fact, serving on the jury. But because it remains unclear whether Barry was a juror, the reader must simply take it as a fact that what he heard must have encouraged him in his final despicable act.
Second Movement: The Nature of the Trial
It was clear he had got her in a family way; And to let the child be born Would not do. Well, how about me with eight children, And one coming, and the farm Mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes?
Barry then gives some terrifyingly pertinent information about the nature of the trial. After getting Zora Clemens pregnant, the doctor could not allow her to carry that baby to term. Barry expresses it that allowing the baby to be born, “Would not do.”
Then Barry switches gears rapidly. Informing his listeners that he is in a similar situation, or no, worse! Barry already has eight children, and his farm is mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes (more about Rhodes in #104). Pile on top of that, his wife is pregnant with child number nine.
In order to show his lamentation over his situation, Barry forms his information into a question. That question is meant rhetorically to put the listener squarely in Barry’s mind with the only answer: what else could you do?
Third Movement: The Hatchet
And when I got home that night, (After listening to the story of the buggy ride, And the finding of Zora in the ditch,) The first thing I saw, right there by the steps, Where the boys had hacked for angle worms, Was the hatchet!
So after hearing the details of Zora’s murder, how there had been a buggy ride and Zora was found in a ditch, Barry goes home. And the first thing he sees is the hatchet lying out by the steps. His sons had been “hack[ing] for angle worms.”
One might, at this point, expect that Barry would be on the warpath to upbraid his sons for leaving the hatchet lying out. But Barry’s mind does not work that way. He is even more selfish and self-important than behaving as a boorish parent would indicate. So he enters his house.
Fourth Movement: Desperate and Despicable
And just as I entered there was my wife, Standing before me, big with child. She started the talk of the mortgaged farm, And I killed her.
The first thing Barry sees upon entering the house is his wife “big with child.” She begins to talk about the farm being mortgaged. And Barry calmly says, “And I killed her.” Interestingly, Barry seems to imply that he killed his wife with the hatchet, but he does not state so directly.
The reader, however, will be led to assume that he picked up the hatchet before entering the house, even though he does not say that he did. Of course, it ultimately does not matter how Barry Holden killed his wife.
What matters is that this despicable character existed, exists, and will continue, for all we know, throughout the existence of this physical planet Earth. Plus, he may have been serving as a juror!
The epitaph spoken by “Nancy Knapp” remains one of the more baffling reports. While miffed by life’s events, Nancy keeps her listener in the dark about important facts that would shed light on how she and her husband died.
Introduction and Text of “Nancy Knapp”
In Edgar Lee Masters’ “Nancy Knapp” from his American classic Spoon River Anthology, the speaker offers a vague report. Most epitaphers reveal how they died, but Nancy does not.
The speaker offers only a glimpse into her life. She is obviously upset with how things turned out. She undoubtedly thinks her siblings-in-law caused her husband and her to have a miserable life.
Nevertheless, Nancy puts forth some interesting images and claims, but they offer no clues about vital facts that would clarify important issues. This epitaph leads its readers to hope that some future speaker will shed more light on this subject as does happen in some of the related series.
Nancy Knapp
Well, don’t you see this was the way of it: We bought the farm with what he inherited, And his brothers and sisters accused him of poisoning His father’s mind against the rest of them. And we never had any peace with our treasure. The murrain took the cattle, and the crops failed. And lightning struck the granary. So we mortgaged the farm to keep going. And he grew silent and was worried all the time. Then some of the neighbors refused to speak to us, And took sides with his brothers and sisters. And I had no place to turn, as one may say to himself, At an earlier time in life; “No matter, So and so is my friend, or I can shake this off With a little trip to Decatur.” Then the dreadfulest smells infested the rooms. So I set fire to the beds and the old witch-house Went up in a roar of flame, As I danced in the yard with waving arms, While he wept like a freezing steer.
Commentary on “Nancy Knapp”
The epitaph spoken by “Nancy Knapp” remains one of the more baffling reports. While miffed by life’s events, Nancy keeps her listener in the dark about important facts that would shed light on how she and her husband died.
First Movement: No Name Husband
Well, don’t you see this was the way of it: We bought the farm with what he inherited, And his brothers and sisters accused him of poisoning His father’s mind against the rest of them. And we never had any peace with our treasure.
Nancy is speaking; she never reveals he husband’s name. Thus he will henceforth have to be known simply as Mr. Knapp. She reveals that he inherited enough cash which with they “bought the farm.” Interestingly, the expression “bought the farm” has come to mean “die.”
The origin of “bought the farm” becoming an idiom for “died” is unknown, but apparently it did not appear as that exact form until 1955. Might the idiom’s origin have been Master’s use of it in this poem? While various other speculations exist, none is conclusive.
Nancy begins her beef with the fact that her husband’s brothers and sisters accused Nancy and Mr. Knapp of turning the old man, Mr. Knapp’s father, against them.
Mr. Knapp became the only beneficiary of the father’s inheritance. Because of the accusation from the Knapp siblings, Nancy and her husband were unable to enjoy their good fortune. She frames it this way: “we never had any peace with our treasure.”
Second Movement: Trials, Tribulations, and Loss
The murrain took the cattle, and the crops failed. And lightning struck the granary. So we mortgaged the farm to keep going. And he grew silent and was worried all the time.
Nancy reports that they lost their cattle to a dreadful disease. They also lost their crops. Then Mother Nature interceded to destroy their granary with lightning.
These sorrowful events led to their having to mortgage the farm just “to keep going.” But the sad events lead to Mr. Knapp becoming depressed. Mr. Knapp stopped talking, and he was filled with worries that led to his depressed state.
Third Movement: Then Things Got Worse
Then some of the neighbors refused to speak to us, And took sides with his brothers and sisters. And I had no place to turn, as one may say to himself, At an earlier time in life; “No matter, So and so is my friend, or I can shake this off With a little trip to Decatur.”
Then things got worse. Their neighbors turned against them and would not speak to them. Those neighbors “took sides with the brothers and sisters” of Mr. Knapp.
Nancy, who seems to be in a rambling mood of blabbering, then states that earlier in their lives they could have shaken off their difficulties with a “trip to Decatur.” The speaker implies that now things were so bad that they could no longer soothe their sorrows with distractions such as pleasure trips.
Fourth Movement: Bizarre Confession
Then the dreadfulest smells infested the rooms. So I set fire to the beds and the old witch-house Went up in a roar of flame, As I danced in the yard with waving arms, While he wept like a freezing steer.
Nancy concludes with a truly bizarre confession. She complains that every room in the house became plagued with “the dreadfulest smells.” Unfortunately, she gives no indication of what those smells might be.
Did Mr. Knapp die in the house and his corpse become the source for those “smells”? No, he appears in another odd image at the end of the poem. Did they both just become so downtrodden that they no longer practiced cleanliness and hygienic routines?
This speculation seems to remain the only logical one. Whatever the origin of the smell, Nancy’s reaction to them is nothing but disastrous: she burns the house down.
First, she set fire to the “beds.” Is she implying that the beds were the origin of all the smells? Did she stop changing the sheets? Then she says that “the old witch-house / Went up in a roar of flame.”
She refers to her home as a witch-house, seeming to imply that the place was haunted. But again the speaker’s vagueness does not allow the reader much room to speculate about actual events.
Then without adding any clarity to the entire episode or their lives in general, Nancy concocts a stark, raving mad image of herself, dancing and waving her arms out in the yard, as her home burns down.
And while Nancy does her mad dance, her husband is weeping “like a freezing steer.” This speaker leaves her listeners not having a clue as to how either she or Mr. Knapp died. Nancy Knapp’s report is one of the vaguest and oddest of the Spoon River epitaphs.
W. H. Auden’s two part song focuses on the loss of a loved one, but with a twist—both pieces are tongue-in-cheek parody of the melodramatic, mawkish mourning put on display by certain mourners, who likely are attempting to gain attention rather than express genuine grief at the loss.
Introduction and Text of “Two Songs for Hedli Anderson”
W. H. Auden’s “Two Songs for Hedli Anderson” appears in various editions of Auden’s publications. In W. H. Auden: Collected Poems, edited by Edward Mendelson, the poem was included in a series titled “Twelve Songs” as separate pieces numbered IX and X. The first song appears often under the title, “Funeral Blues” and also as “Stop All the Clocks.”
Apparently, Auden wrote the lyric to be set to music by Benjamin Britten for the cabaret singer Hedli Anderson, who was the second wife of poet, Louis MacNeice. The first song, billed as “Funeral Blues,” was recited in the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral.
Two Songs for Hedli Anderson
I Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
II O the valley in the summer where I and my John Beside the deep river would walk on and on While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love, And I leaned on his shoulder; ‘O Johnny, let’s play’: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball, The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud; ‘Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let’s dance till it’s day’: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera When music poured out of each wonderful star? Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down Over each silver and golden silk gown; ‘O John I’m in heaven,’ I whispered to say: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower, As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart; ‘O marry me, Johnny, I’ll love and obey’: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover, You’d the sun on one arm and the moon on the other, The sea it was blue and the grass it was green, Every star rattled a round tambourine; Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay: But you frowned like thunder and you went away.
Reading of Song I
Musical rending of Song II
Commentary on Song I
Song I features a series of hyperbolic licks that mock the exaggerated, melodramatic mourning of some individuals after the loss of a love one.
First Stanza: Stop It—Now—Everything!
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
The first stanza finds the speaker, who is a mourner, beginning an extended exaggeration of her grievance as she commands all the clocks to stop, and all telephones to be “cut off.” The speaker also desires that dogs be kept from barking by giving them “a juicy bone.”
The speaker then demands that piano players be required to stop playing their cheerful tunes and that they have in place of those tunes a funeral dirge with a “muffled drum.” Then in the final line of the first stanza, the reader is alerted to the reason that the speaker wishes everything to cease. Life for the speaker feels as though it has stopped because her belovèd is now dead: “Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.”
The jaunty feel of the piece seems to run counter to the message. Two riming couplets give each stanza a cheerfulness that contrasts with such terms as “coffin” and “mourners.”
The speaker’s attitude toward her subject seems somewhat stern and deliberately mocking. Commanding that clocks be stopped is certainly a cheeky command, as if to say, I am the only person in the world who matters now, so world just stop your existence.
Second Stanza: Demand for World to Adopt Mourning Pace
Let aeroplanes* circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
The speaker then expresses her wish that airplanes fly, flinging the message across the sky: “He is Dead.” This mourner desires “crepe bows” tied around the “white necks of the public doves.” And she wishes to place black gloves on the policemen to be replace the white ones.
The speaker is concocting a ludicrous visage of the world as she seems to have lost her balance. She desires that the world reflect her own feeling; thus, she demands that everything and everyone adopt her mourner’s reality.
Third Stanza: He Was My Everything
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The third stanza finds the speaker announcing how important the dead man was to her: the deceased was the mourner’s every direction, he was her every day of the week, and also he was her every time of day.
This suffering speaker is insisting that this dead man was, “my talk, my song.” He was the speaker’s necessary speech and also her entertainment. The speaker then flatly announces in deadpan fashion: “I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.”
The speaker has invested a great deal of emotional life in this other person; therefore, she has now found herself totally lost and rudderless. She appears to be utterly devastated emotionally. But instead of merely expressing a state of sadness, this speaker employs the poetic device of hyperbole to both exaggerate and heighten the pain she is suffering.
Fourth Stanza: Appreciating Deep Distress
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.
The most sorrowful, exaggerated expression is dramatized in the final stanza: the speaker is now demanding an end to everything in existence. This pathetically mourning speaker wants the stars to stop shining; she demands that the moon and the sun cease shining. She commands the ocean to be “pour[ed] away,” and she desires that the “wood” to be swept off the face of the earth.
The world no longer exists for this apoplectically miserable speaker, and her deep sorrow motivates her to sense that, “nothing now can ever come to any good.” While the poem is easily accessible, it displays a very clever construction.
Although the speaker is calling for a situation that is impossible to achieve, her intensity of feeling makes her listeners/readers comprehend and even able to appreciate her deep distress.
The poems achieves an odd sense of fullness and even satisfaction despite the pain and suffering it evokes and also despite the impossibility of the commands. The world does not end for everyone, just because one individual has lost a loved one and descends into deep distress.
The emphatic exaggeration and comedic effect garnered from those hyperbolic licks reveal the poem/song to be tongue-in-cheek parody. Instead of genuine suffering, the speaker is actually mocking the kind of mawkish mourning some people express at the loss of a loved one. Such maudlin mourning reveals that such mourners are really more interested in gaining attention than securing solace.
With a similar theme as in Song I, Song II has its speaker expressing five different scenarios in which the speaker and her lover have engaged; yet from each scenario, the speaker’s lover “frowned like thunder and he went away.”
The line becomes a refrain, echoing the loss experienced in Song I, except for the fact that Song II simply claims the lover “went away,” which may refer to death or simply that he left her for parts unknown
First Stanza: The Valley in Summer
O the valley in the summer where I and my John Beside the deep river would walk on and on While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love, And I leaned on his shoulder; ‘O Johnny, let’s play’: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
In the first stanza, featuring the first scene with the speaker and her lover, “John,” the two can be seen walking by the river, with flowers blooming all around, while the birds are chirping merrily above their heads.
The happy-hearted speaker suggests to her lover that they “play,” which may or may not refer to sexual coupling. Lover John, however, offers his first response by “frown[ing] like thunder and [going] away.”
The poem remains deliberately vague with remarks such as “let’s play” and that the lover “went away.” Likely, the poet is cleverly allowing his readers to interpret the vagueness as they wish.
Second Stanza: Christmas at the Charity Ball
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball, The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud; ‘Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let’s dance till it’s day’: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
The speaker then reports what happened at Christmas time at a charity ball. Again, she offers interesting details—the smoothness of the floor, the loudness of the band, her “Johnny so handsome” that she “felt so proud.”
The speaker begs “dear Johnny” to squeeze her “tighter” and then let them dance until the next day. And again for the second time, her Johnny just “frown[s] like thunder” and “[goes] away.”
Third Stanza: At the Grand Opera
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera When music poured out of each wonderful star? Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down Over each silver and golden silk gown; ‘O John I’m in heaven,’ I whispered to say: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
The third scene finds the two love birds at the “Grand Opera.” Each opera star is magnificent as she exudes marvelous music, as she sparkles in the “[d]iamonds and pearls” and the “silver and golden silk gown.”
Again, the speaker is overcome with happiness and joy, whispering to her lover that she is in heaven. And again, John responds with his “frown” and by leaving the hapless creature.
Fourth Stanza: Waltzing with a Perfect Specimen
O but he was fair as a garden in flower, As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart; ‘O marry me, Johnny, I’ll love and obey’: But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
In the fourth scene, the speaker describes her lover with details revealing that he appears as pristine as a “garden in flower.” He is tall like the Eiffel Tower and of slender build—a beautiful, handsome sight to the speaker as they waltzed.
She adores his eyes lighting up a smile, and she pops the question, stating that she would “love and obey.” However, Johnny right on cue simply frowns “like thunder” and goes away.
Fifth Stanza: A Dream and a Frown of Thunder
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover, You’d the sun on one arm and the moon on the other, The sea it was blue and the grass it was green, Every star rattled a round tambourine; Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay: But you frowned like thunder and you went away.
In the final scene, the speaker is reporting a dream, in which she sees her lover with the sun one arm and the other arm with the moon. She states the usual colors of the ocean and the grass as blue and green, but then flips back up to the heavens, describing the stars as beating on tambourines.
The speaker then says she was lying in a pit that was “ten thousand miles deep”—and again the only reaction her hyperbole elicits from Johnny is his frowning “like thunder” as he again “went away.”
My winged wonder lights the dark of my night Dickinson’s came down the walk—led the way Basho’s went about—sung seasons to flight
Yeats’ golden one flew backward into night To green-hued times where ancient dreams held sway My winged wonder lights the dark of my night
Tagore’s bowed to Love—the source of all light The torch divine where souls may come to pray Basho’s went about—sung seasons to flight
Mine flew into my cupped young hands that day They caged his essence keeping him aright My winged wonder lights the dark of my night
He shivers on my shoulders—does not stray Perched in my brain, directs my ear and sight Basho’s went about—sung seasons to flight
At times I sift the chaff and lose my way He forbids I sing my worst sins outright My winged wonder lights the dark of my night Basho’s went about—sung seasons to flight
