Sister Maude, by Christina Rosetti

SISTER MAUDE – CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

Christina Rossetti begins her poem “Sister Maude” with two similar questions, asking who told her parents about her 'shame'. We do not know at this point what the narrator's shame is, but it gradually becomes clear that she was having an affair with a handsome man. In Victorian times when Rossetti was writing, this would certainly have been considered shameful. The narrator answers the questions in the first quatrain, naming her sister Maude as the person who told her parents what was happening. The quatrain ends with the narrator's comment that Maude was spying on her sister; the word 'lurked' conveys the feeling of furtiveness and slyness. The fact that the narrator says 'who but Maude' when answering the questions shows that no-one else would have betrayed the narrator in this way, that Maude was a despicable sister.

The second quatrain focuses on the narrator's lover. The word 'cold' is emphasised by its position as the initial word, and also by its repetition in the simile 'as cold as stone' in the first line. The phrase 'Cold he lies' tells us that he is now dead. In the second line of this quatrain, Rossetti uses alliteration in 'clotted curls', a phrase that also echoes the initial sound of 'cold'. The description suggests that his once beautiful hair is now possibly congealed with blood. Again in this quatrain's third line we find alliteration with the hard 'c' sound in the phrase 'comeliest corpse'. Even in death, the man is very handsome, so handsome that the final line of the quatrain tells us that he could be the lover of a queen.

In the third quatrain the narrator speaks directly to her sister, wishing that Maude had spared the soul of the man as well as the two sisters. We now understand that it was Maude who murdered the man. She was obviously jealous, and it appears that the narrator was more attractive than Maude. The narrator conveys this idea in saying that even if she had never been born, the man would not have considered having an affair with Maude.

The narrator turns to the fate of her family in the fourth quatrain. She knows that her father is at peace in heaven, or 'Paradise', whereas her mother waits at its gate. This may mean that her mother has just recently died. The narrator knows, however, that Sister Maude will never go to heaven because she has committed murder: she will 'get no sleep'. The phrase 'Either early or late' that concludes the quatrain likely means that Maude is still alive, but her conscience will not allow her any peace or sleep.

The final stanza of 'Sister Maude' stands out as it has six lines compared to the four lines of the previous stanzas. The narrator once again refers to her parents: she believes that her father in heaven perhaps wears 'a golden crown', conveying the idea that he must have lived an admirable life. Again we have the impression that her mother may be not long dead, as she 'may win' a crown in heaven. The narrator then focuses on herself and her lover. She believes that even though they were having an affair, having been cruelly murdered they may be allowed to go to heaven if they 'knocked at Heaven-gate'. In the final two lines of the poem, the narrator once again addresses Sister Maude directly, repeating her name in the penultimate line. She ends the poem by telling Maude in no uncertain terms that she will have to live, or 'Bide', 'with death and sin'. The word 'you' is emphasised with italics, drawing attention to the contrast between the fate of Maude and the rest of the family.

The poem's structure is regular in that all but the final stanza are quatrains; the last stanza has six lines, allowing Rossetti to comment on the fate of her parents, her lover, herself and finally her sister. The rhyme scheme is ABCB for the quatrains, and ABCBDB for the final stanza. The fact that the first and third lines have no rhymes gives Rossetti more freedom in her choice of vocabulary.

The notes in 'Christina Rossetti – The Complete Poems' (Penguin Classics) suggest that Rossetti was influenced in composing “Sister Maude” by Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem “The Sister's Shame”. Both follow the same theme, but Tennyson's version is written from the point of view of the sister who killed the man. A further suggestion is that both Rossetti and Tennyson were influenced by Walter Scott's “Minstrelsy”.

Death is a recurring theme in her poetry, and Christina Rossetti must also have been affected by her voluntary work at Highgate Penitentiary, a home for 'fallen' women. Her contact here with criminals of various kinds that may well have lead her to compose “Sister Maude”. She explores a relationship between two sisters that is destroyed because of Maude's jealousy of her sister's looks and the attentions of her handsome lover. After initially spying on her sister, Maude goes to the extreme lengths of murder to vent her spite. Rossetti, a deeply religious woman, concentrates on the fact that peace in heaven awaits those, such as her parents, who lead an honourable life. Her conclusion is that Maude will be haunted by her crime and will never find peace of mind.

Here is the full text of “Sister Maude”

Who told my mother of my shame,

Who told my father of my dear?

Oh who but Maude, my sister Maude,

Who lurked to spy and peer.

Cold he lies, as cold as stone,

With his clotted curls about his face:

The comeliest corpse in all the world

And worthy of a queen's embrace.

You might have spared his soul, sister,

Have spared my soul, your own soul too:

Though I had not been born at all,

He'd never have looked at you.

My father may sleep in Paradise,

My mother at Heaven-gate;

But sister Maude shall get no sleep

Either early or late.

My father may wear a golden gown,

My mother a crown may win;

If my dear and I knocked at Heaven-gate

Perhaps they'd let us in:

But sister Maude, oh sister Maude,

Bide you with death and sin.

Reference

Christina Rossetti – The Complete Poems, Penguin Classics, 2005 (with introduction by Betty Flowers).

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In Paris With You, by James Fenton

IN PARIS WITH YOU

by James Fenton

Although Paris is often thought of as the city of love, James Fenton opens his poem “In Paris With You” with the sentence “Don't talk to me of love.” He appears to be getting over a broken relationship, saying “I've had an earful / And I get tearful.” Rather than both words of the rhyming pair coming at the end of lines, “tearful” is in the middle of the second line. The rhymes actually seem to give a lighter atmosphere to the first stanza, although Fenton is feeling down. He describes himself as “one of your talking wounded,” which of course is a play on the phrase “walking wounded” used to describe people who have only slight injuries. He refers to himself as “a hostage” and says he is “marooned,” creating the impression of someone who is not yet free from the emotions of his recent relationship. In the last line of the stanza, however, Fenton seems to be feeling more optimistic when he says, “But I'm in Paris with you.” Throughout the poem, Fenton talks directly to the person he has apparently just met.

In the second stanza Fenton makes it quite clear that he is “on the rebound.” He uses alliteration in the phrase “I've been bamboozled;” bamboozled is a wonderful sounding word, but Fenton is angry at the way he has been treated and refers to his previous relationship as a “mess.” Once again the tone towards the end of the stanza becomes more upbeat since he has met someone new and they are together in Paris.

Fenton is not in the least bit interested in sightseeing, and is in fact openly scornful of Paris' famous attractions in the third stanza. He doesn't want to go to the Louvre or the Champs Elysees, and even goes so far as to use the vulgar alliterative phrase “sod off to sodding Notre Dame.” He uses enjambment to link the end of the third stanza to the beginning of the fourth, commenting that he would rather stay in the “sleazy” hotel room than go to see the sights. No matter how dismal the room is, and the contrast between it and the beautiful attractions of Paris, he wants to spend time there with the person he has met. “Doing this and that / To what and whom” presumably refers to having sex. Fenton closes the fourth stanza with the idea that he will learn more about his companion as well as about himself.

The fifth stanza opens with the phrase “Don't talk to me of love.” Fenton presumably was in love previously but doesn't want to get emotionally involved in his new relationship. He wants to talk about Paris “in our view,” but what they can actually see is a crack in the ceiling and paint peeling off the walls of the hotel room. This is the reality, and Fenton doesn't appear to be bothered by it as he closes the stanza once again with the line “And I'm in Paris with you.”

The sixth and final stanza opens with a repeat of the first line of the fifth stanza, “Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.” In the next three lines Fenton uses the word “Paris” three times as an apparent substitute or metaphor for the word love when he says, for example, “I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.” “I'm in Paris with... all points south” is presumably a reference to his companion's genitals, especially as the following line is the question “Am I embarrassing you?” Fenton ends the poem as we might expect with the statement “I'm in Paris with you.”

James Fenton makes effective use of repetition and rhyme to convey his thoughts in his poem “In Paris With You.” Rhyme is not used regularly, and the poem has a more natural feel because of this. In the third stanza there is “Elysees” and “sleazy,” while in the fifth it is “ceiling” and “peeling” that rhyme. In the fourth stanza the rhyming words “room” and “whom” are at the end of the first and third lines rather than consecutive lines. The stanzas are of irregular length, and it is noticeable that the lines of the fourth stanza are all very short, adding emphasis to it.

“In Paris With You” does have a lightness and immediacy about it, even though the memories of the recent failed relationship evoke anger. Fenton conveys the excitement and freshness of the start of a new relationship, the eagerness to get to know a person he appears to have just met. Being with that person is what matters above all. The grand places of the capital city of France have no importance; he would rather be in a shabby hotel as long as he is with that special person. The poem conveys this idea perfectly, and it is easy to imagine the feeling.

Originally published on helium.com

The Wild Swans at Coole, by W.B. Yeats

THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE

W B Yeats

Yeats' poem “The Wild Swans at Coole” is set in Coole Park in County Galway, Ireland, where Yeats loved to spend time. It is autumn, and the trees look beautiful, but autumn of course is a season of decay. The time of day is 'twilight', so the light is fading and the day is drawing to a close. There is an air of tranquillity at first as the lake reflects 'a still sky'. The first stanza ends, however, with the announcement that there are fifty-nine swans on the water. Yeats states this number as 'nine and fifty', and the fact that the nine comes first emphasises that this is an odd number. One of the swans is alone, without a mate.

Yeats opens the second stanza by stating that it is nineteen years since he first counted the swans at Coole, but we don't know how old he was at the time. He can remember that while he was counting he saw the swans take flight all at once and then split up, 'wheeling in great broken rings'. The noise of their wings must have been almost deafening; Yeats describes it as 'clamourous'. It was an experience that obviously remained with him, striking as it was.

Yeats had great admiration for the swans, describing them in the opening line of the third stanza as 'brilliant creatures'. In the following line, however, he turns to his own feelings: 'my heart is sore'. He is remembering a sight he first saw when he was much younger, and this makes him acutely aware that he is ageing. He refers again to the noise of the swans' wings, this time using alliteration in the phrase 'bell-beat'. Yeats closes the third stanza with the statement that he 'Trod with a lighter tread' when he first heard the sound, implying that he was younger and more carefree or joyful then.

Yeats opens the fourth stanza by describing the swans as 'Unwearied', contrasting the fact that they do not tire with the reference to his own ageing. The swans are 'lover by lover', flying in pairs. Yeats uses alliteration to describe the movement of the swans, this time with the hard 'c' sound in 'cold / Companionable streams or climb the air'. 'Their hearts have not grown old' forms another strong contrast with the line 'And now my heart is sore' of the previous stanza. A softer alliteration features in the phrase 'wander where they will', conveying a sense of the swans' freedom. Their vivacity and energy are alluded to as Yeats says that they still seek 'passion and conquest'. The implication once again is that the poet has aged and is no longer young enough for a new love affair. (In actual fact Yeats married after this poem was composed.)

The two opening lines of the final stanza echo the mood and setting of the first stanza, describing the swans as 'Mysterious, beautiful' on the calm water of the lake. In the last four lines of “The Wild Swans at Coole”, Yeats faces the fact that the swans will not be there forever. They will build nests in another place for the winter, and they will give pleasure to other people who will see them beside a 'lake's edge or pool'. Yeats will 'awake some day' to find that they have gone. The poem ends with this air of sadness, which could be symbolic of the transitory nature of a love affair.

The poem is set in five stanzas of six lines each; the lines are of varying length, but long and short tend to alternate. The rhyme scheme is ABCBDD, although 'stones' and 'swans' in the fifth and sixth lines of the first stanza are really just a half rhyme. Yeats uses a combination of end-stopped lines and enjambment within each stanza; the enjambment allows one line to flow into the next and extend the image. In the second stanza this device is used over the last three lines where Yeats describes the powerful effect that the sight and sound of the swans flying up had on him.

“The Wild Swans at Coole” is an evocative poem in which Yeats uses a setting and the memory of an experience, now being re-lived, to express his awareness of the ageing process. The season of autumn and the time of twilight symbolise this process, as nature dies away and light fades. The beauty and power of the swans create a contrast that Yeats experiences through sight and sound. They have not aged or lost their 'passion' for life and love. Yeats is aware, however, that youth slips away and his heart becomes heavy, knowing that ageing is inevitable and that change has to be confronted.

Here is the full text of “The Wild Swans at Coole”

The trees are in their autumn beauty,

The woodland paths are dry,

Under the October twilight the water

Mirrors a still sky;

Upon the brimming water among the stones

Are nine and fifty swans.

The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me

Since I first made my count;

I saw, before I had well finished,

All suddenly mount

And scatter wheeling in great broken rings

Upon their clamourous wings.

I have looked upon these brilliant creatures,

And now my heart is sore.

All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,

The first time on this shore,

The bell-beat of their wings above my head,

Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,

They paddle in the cold,

Companionable streams or climb the air;

Their hearts have not grown old;

Passion or conquest, wander where they will,

Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water

Mysterious, beautiful;

Among what rushes will they build,

By what lake's edge or pool

Delight men's eyes, when I awake some day

To find they have flown away?

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The Ruined Maid, by Thomas Hardy

THE RUINED MAID – THOMAS HARDY

Thomas Hardy's poem “The Ruined Maid”, written in 1866, takes the form of a dialogue between two girls or young women who previously worked together on a farm. The girl who speaks first is still a farm-hand, and she has just met the other girl, Amelia, by chance in town. She is surprised at how different Amelia looks since she last saw her, but Amelia explains that she has been 'ruined'. This term actually means that she has become a prostitute. The poem is full of contrasts between the two speakers, as well as between the past life and present situation of the 'ruined maid'.

The poem has six stanzas of four lines each, or quatrains, and in each of the first five the farm girl speaks for the first three lines. The 'ruined' girl replies to her in the fourth line. In the first stanza, the farm girl expresses her surprise at meeting 'Melia, and asks her where she got her lovely clothes from, which are a sign of 'prosperity' – 'Melia seems to have gone up in the world. Amelia asks the farm girl if she hadn't known that she had been 'ruined', in other words had become a prostitute. Using the term 'ruined' conveys the idea that once a 'maid' has turned to prostitution, she will have no chance of finding a husband and settling down to married life.

In the second quatrain, the farm girl begins by remembering how differently Amelia was dressed when she left the farm. She wore rags, 'tatters' and was barefoot. She goes on to talk about Amelia's reasons for leaving the farm: she had had enough of digging up potatoes and also dock leaves, which are quite large weeds. The farm-hand then describes some of the details of the prostitute's appearance that are in sharp contrast. She has lovely bracelets as well as feathers, probably in her hat. The exclamation mark emphasises the farm girl's surprise and presumably also her admiration for such fine accessories. Amelia's reply is that any girl in her profession will be dressed in that way.

The farm girl turns in the third quatrain to recollections of the way Amelia used to speak when she worked at the 'barton', or farm. The 'ruined' girl has already used the word 'you', but the farm girl remarks that she used to use 'thee' and 'thou', which are more rural alternatives for 'you'. The farm-hand goes on to give more examples of words that the prostitute used to use when she was a country girl, but then comments that the way she speaks now is typical of a higher social class, or 'high compa-ny'. The farm girl herself uses an abbreviation of 'thee' – ''ee' – instead of 'you'. This time Amelia's reply is that when a girl is 'ruined', she gains 'polish', in other words refinement.

In the fourth quatrain, the farm girl comments on Amelia's hands and face. She says that the 'ruined' girl's hands used to be like 'paws', implying that the girl used to be in some respect like an animal, perhaps with rough and dirty hands. Her face used to be 'blue and bleak', suggesting that it looked unhealthy and unattractive. Now, however, the farm girl is amazed or 'bewitched' by the change in Amelia's face. In contrast, her skin is now 'delicate', giving the impression that it is smooth and fair. The farm girl must be envious of the prostitute's gloves, which she finds to be very ladylike. This time Amelia's answer to these remarks is that prostitutes never do any work, in other words nothing like farm labour that could be detrimental to their complexion or hands.

The dialogue in the fifth quatrain revolves around Amelia's former attitude to her life at home, on the farm. The country girl remembers that she used to describe it as a 'hag-ridden dream', a hag having connotations of a witch or ugly old woman. Now, however, the farm girl sees that the prostitute shows no sign of 'megrims', meaning depression or unhappiness, so she must be enjoying her life.

The sixth quatrain is the final one, and here the farm girl speaks for only the first two lines. Amelias reply fills the third and fourth lines, ending the poem. The farm girl does not make any new comments in her last remark, but shows how envious she is of Amelia. She wishes she could dress in the same fashionable way and walk the streets of the town rather than work on the farm. The prostitute's reply sounds arrogant, and she condescendingly calls the farm girl 'my dear'. She reminds her that a 'raw country girl' cannot hope to wear such fine clothes. Amelia is contrasting her situation with that of the farm girl, but ironically she uses the word 'ain't' in her final phrase, showing that in she has not in fact rid herself of her low-class speech completely.

The 'ruined' girl's full name, Amelia, means work, effort or strain, and on the farm she would certainly have had to make plenty of effort in her job. The farm girl shortens the name to 'Melia when she meets her. Melia means rival or emulating, having ambition, as though the girl is now striving to appear to belong to a higher class of society. There are those who also comment on the similarity of the name to the Latin word 'melior', which means better: Amelia has made attempts to better her appearance, but she has not improved her situation in life.

Hardy does use several poetic devices in the farm girl's speech, even though she is a 'raw country girl'. Her comments often feature phrases in pairs, such as 'digging potatoes, and spudding up docks'. These are occasionally given more emphasis through the use of alliteration, as in 'you'd sigh and you'd sock' or 'megrims or melancho-ly' in the penultimate quatrain.

The rhyme scheme is AABB, and the rhymes of the third and fourth lines are identical throughout the poem: prosperi-ty and she in the first quatrain, three and she in the second, etc. The hyphenation of words at the end of some of the third lines, such as prosperi-ty, separate the final syllable which is the one that rhymes with the fourth line. The rhymes of the first quatrain match those of the final quatrain, creating a feeling of symmetry perhaps. Overall the structure of 'The Ruined Maid' is regular, with each stanza being a quatrain; the farm girl speaks for the first three lines of all but the final quatrain, with Amelia's reply coming in the fourth line.

Hardy has created a fascinating picture of young women in Victorian times in 'The Ruined Maid'. Labouring on a farm cannot have been an attractive prospect for a country girl, but the poem shows us that perhaps the only way to escape it was through prostitution. The chance to wear fashionable clothes, jewellery and other pretty accessories would appeal to most young women. Walking around a town might also seem more interesting than spending time on a farm. The irony is of course that these opportunities were only available to lower-class women if they became prostitutes. The fact that the term 'ruined' was used to describe prostitutes tells us that their chances finding a husband and having a family would be non-existent. The country girl may have been envious of Amelia, but her prospects of marriage must have been far better.

Here is the poem in full:

“O 'Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!

Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?

And whence such fair garments, such prosper-ity?” -

“O, didn't you know I'd been ruined?” said she.

• “You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,

Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;

And now you've gay bracelets and bright feathers three!” -

“Yes: that's how we dress when we're ruined,” said she.

• “At home in the barton you said 'thee' and 'thou,'

And 'thick oon' and 'theas oon' and 't'other'; but now

Your talking quite fits 'ee for high compa-ny!” -

“Some polish is gained with one's ruin,” said she.

• “Your hands were like paws then, your face blue and bleak

But now I'm bewitched by your delicate cheek,

And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!” -

“We never do work when we're ruined,” said she.

• “You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,

And you'd sigh and you'd sock; but at present you seem

To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!” -

“True. One's pretty lively when ruined,” said she.

• “I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,

And a delicate face, and could strut about Town!” -

“My dear – a raw country girl, such as you be,

Cannot quite expect that. You ain't ruined,” said she.

Originally published on helium.com

Spellbound, by Emily Bronte

SPELLBOUND

by Emily Bronte

The setting of Emily Bronte's poem “Spellbound” is the Yorkshire Moors in England, the same setting as for her novel “Wuthering Heights.” The speaker is there on a cold winter's night, and the atmosphere is very bleak. Emily Bronte wrote the poem in 1837, at the age of nineteen. She and her sisters, Charlotte and Ann, had imagined a world that they called Gondal. In Gondal, the heroes and heroines they wrote about found themselves in romantic and sometimes tragic circumstances. Juliet Barker and Fannie Ratchford, both authorities on the poems of Emily Bronte, believe that “Spellbound” revolves around a mother who leaves her child out on the moors to die of exposure. Watching her child die is torture for her, but the woman is under a spell and finds herself unable to walk away. There is, however, no actual reference to a child in the poem.

The opening line of the poem “Spellbound” tells us that darkness is descending and surrounding the speaker. In the following line, Bronte uses alliteration in the phrase “wild winds” to make the description more vivid; not only are the winds strong, but they are also cold. The word “But” at the beginning of the third line conveys the sense that nobody would want to stay out on a cold, dark night. The speaker, however, is under “a tyrant spell,” the adjective implying that the spell is a particularly harsh, cruel one. Bronte connects the third line to the fourth with enjambment, thus linking the idea that because of the spell, the speaker is unable to leave the place where she is. The repetition of “cannot” emphasises the fact that it is impossible for her to go away.

The second stanza continues the description of the setting and intensifies the extreme weather conditions. The trees are “giant,” which stresses their size but also perhaps personifies them and creates a sense of fear. Bronte uses alliteration once again in the phrase “bending / their bare boughs.” Snow is laying heavily on the boughs of the trees, so the wintery conditions are indeed severe. In line seven the speaker says that a storm is brewing, but the second stanza closes in a similar way to the first: “And yet I cannot go.”

In the third and final stanza, Bronte uses repetition to underline the difficult conditions. First of all there are “Clouds beyond clouds” in the sky, then “Wastes beyond wastes below.” Wastes are barren land, creating the impression of a lonely, uninhabited place where a woman would not wish to be alone on a stormy winter's night. Despite this, the speaker says in line 11 that nothing “drear,” which means dismal or depressing, will make her move from the spot. In the final line of the poem she states not only that she cannot go, as she says at the end of the first two stanzas, but that she “will not” go. The spell seems to have taken such a hold upon her that she would not even make any attempt to leave.

The rhyme scheme of the poem is ABAB CBCB ABAB, which forms a symmetrical pattern. The first, third, ninth and eleventh lines all in fact end with the word “me” so they are identical rather than rhyming words. This serves to accentuate the predicament of the woman; she is surrounded by darkness and severe weather, but the force of the spell makes her unable to move. The fact that the second stanza, which is also the middle one, has the rhyming words “bending” and descending” sets it apart from the other two stanzas. The first and last stanzas are similar in the length of lines, as in both of them the first and third lines are slightly longer than the second and fourth. In the second stanza, line six appears to be the longest one in the poem, although it is not the one with the most syllables. The fact that the first and third stanzas look very similar, however, does add to the feeling of symmetry that is established by the rhyme scheme.

“Spellbound” is a brief poem but within the three stanzas Emily Bronte creates a powerful atmosphere through the use of vivid description, repetition of words and phrases and rhyming patterns. Initially there is a sense of the desperation of the woman who is speaking, but by the end of the poem, when “will not” is added to her statement “cannot go,” the idea that she is under a “tyrant spell” becomes all too convincing.

Here is the full text of the poem:

The night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;

But a tyrant spell has bound me

And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending

Their bare boughs weighed with snow.

And the storm is fast descending,

And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,

Wastes beyond wastes below;

But nothing drear can move me;

I will not, cannot go.

Originally published on helium.com

The Right Word, by Imtiaz Dharker

THE RIGHT WORD

by Imtiaz Dharker

Imtiaz Dharker's poem “The Right Word” focuses on a figure that is in the shadows outside the narrator's house. It is noticeable that the word “outside” appears in the first seven of the poem's nine stanzas, and the word “shadows” or “shadow” in the first six. Because the figure is in the shadows, it is difficult to make out who or what he is, and so the narrator is searching for the right word to identify him.

The first stanza describes the figure as “lurking” in the shadows and states that he is a terrorist; the image is therefore a very threatening one. In the opening line of the second stanza, Dharker wonders if that description was an incorrect one. This time the figure is said to be “taking shelter,” making him seem more vulnerable, and Dharker identifies him with alliteration as “a freedom fighter.” The connotations are much more positive than those connected with a terrorist. In the third stanza, however, the narrator still feels that the figure has not been correctly identified. He is now described as merely “waiting” in the shadows and is seen as “a hostile militant.” This identity obviously labels him as an enemy.

Dharker uses enjambment to link the first two lines of the fourth stanza to extend a question about the definition of words. She uses the alliterative metaphor “waving, wavering flags”, asking if words are no more than that. Wavering conveys the idea of hesitating, changing an opinion, and waving creates an image of constant movement or fluctuating ideas. The words we use to describe people or things can change from one moment to the next. In this stanza, the figure is “watchful,” therefore alert, in the shadows; this time the narrator identifies him as a “guerrilla warrior,” in other words an aggressive fighter.

The fifth stanza opens with the words “God help me,” signifying the fact that Dharker is in a state of shock, perhaps. Now the figure is “defying every shadow,” and so his identity becomes more apparent. He is “a martyr,” in other words a person who dies for the sake of his faith. The stanza closes with the line “I saw his face,” so there is now no doubt as to the figure's identity. Dharker opens the sixth stanza with the comment that words can no longer help, as the realisation of who the figure is dawns on her. Now the figure is “just outside” but is “lost” in the shadows. This time, rather than a fighter or a warrior, he is described as a “child” who resembles the narrator's own.

In the opening line of the seventh stanza, the poet says “One word for you,” seeming to address the reader directly. The figure is still outside; his hand is “too steady” and his eyes “too hard.” These descriptions convey a sense of purpose and confidence. The “word” for the reader is the comment of the stanza's last line, which states that the figure is “a boy who looks like your son, too.” The implication is that a terrorist, a fighter or a warrior is someone's son. He belongs to a family, and there are people who love him; he is not necessarily a person to be feared or shunned.

Having identified the figure, Dharker begins the eighth stanza with the line “I open the door,” marking a turning point in the poem. She invites the figure to come into the house and eat with the family. This underlines the idea that the figure, even if he is a fighter, is part of the family and not a threat. In the opening line of the ninth and final stanza, the figure is referred to as a “child”. He enters the house and “carefully” takes his shoes off. This action shows respect for the household as well as politeness, especially since the action was performed with care rather than brusqueness.

Dharker's poem “The Right Word” makes us question the labels that we give to people and the attitudes that we have towards terrorists and militants. The poem's stanzas are of uneven length as the narrator reacts in different ways to the sight of the figure and thoughts go through her mind. Rhyme is not used, but the phrase “Outside the door” recurs with the word “the” replaced by either that, your or my. The situation could therefore happen outside anyone's door. Repetition of the phrase “in the shadows” allows for the figure's exact identity to remain a mystery until the narrator sees his face in the fifth stanza. The shift in attitude once the figure is identified as a child or a son is emphasised by the repetition of “come in” in the penultimate stanza and “comes in” in the final stanza.

“The Right Word” is a fascinating look at the way we react towards people's identities. How does a mother feel if her son becomes a terrorist, a freedom fighter, or a martyr? A militant or a warrior still has a family and does not necessarily pose a threat. Such a person is capable of respect and politeness when welcomed into a home. Words are labels that have strong connotations, but we should not allow them to influence our judgement of people without looking at all the alternatives that we can perceive.

First published on helium.com

Flag, by John Agard

FLAG

by John Agard

John Agard's poem entitled simply “Flag” is made up of five regular stanzas each of three lines. The opening line of each stanza consists of a question which is then answered in the following lines, so there are two voices in the poem.

In the questions that begin the first four stanzas, the speaker asks what something is that he can see. In each case it is a flag, and the second line of each of these four stanzas is identical: “It's just a piece of cloth.” In material terms a flag is of course a mere piece of cloth, but flags are very powerful symbols.

The question at the beginning of the first stanza is “What's that fluttering in the breeze?” After the response that it is “just a piece of cloth,” the answer continues in the third line with the statement that it “brings a nation to its knees.” This is an idiom that implies defeat or surrender, and Agard is introducing the theme of war or conflict that runs throughout the poem.

In the second stanza, the person asking the question sees the flag “unfurling from a pole.” The person answering comments that it “makes the guts of men grow bold.” Agard sees the flag as a symbol that will stir men up to fight for their country. The question implies that a flag is just being hoisted, as though an army has perhaps just won a battle and is taking over another nation.

The flag is seen “rising over a tent” in the question at the start of the third stanza. This could imply that it is in a military camp, or it might be the tent of a group of explorers who are claiming that the land now belongs to them. The answer that concludes this stanza says that the flag “dares the coward to relent.” Agard is commenting that people may not be brave enough to stand up to those who are taking over their land; this is more than likely a reference to colonialism.

The question in the opening line of the fourth stanza sees the flag “flying over a field.” The field could be simply a piece of land, or it could be a battlefield. The person answering this time states that the flag “will outlive the blood you bleed.” With this alliterative phrase Agard refers once again to war and conflict. Once a flag has been hoisted in a nation it will stay for more than a lifetime. The use of the word “you” implies that the person asking the question is someone that is fighting for his country.

The question at the beginning of the fifth and final stanza takes a different form. It asks “How can I possess such a cloth?” The person asking has seen from the previous answers that the “piece of cloth” is something powerful and therefore desirable. The answer is “Just ask for a flag my friend.” This is the first time that the word “flag” has been used in the poem, apart from the title. Whereas the word “just” was used in the first four stanzas in the phrase “It's just a piece of cloth,” now it is used to introduce the answer. It makes it sound as though obtaining a flag is a simple thing to do. The final line, however, clearly shows the implications of possessing a flag: “Then bind your conscience to the end.” Anyone who raises a flag to signify the taking over of a nation by another has no conscience.

Agard uses repetition and rhyme in his poem “Flag” to convey his message. The first and third line of each stanza rhyme, or half rhyme in the case of the second and fourth stanzas. In the fifth stanza, however, it is the second and third lines that rhyme. The contrast of the final stanza with the previous four is particularly effective as a conclusion to the poem. John Agard is making a clear statement in “Flag” that an army or nation that takes control of another land has no sense of right and wrong. Man's lust for power is a corrupting influence that leads to bloodshed and loss of conscience on the part of the aggressors.

The Falling Leaves, by Margaret Postgate Cole

The Falling Leaves

by Margaret Postgate Cole

Margaret Postgate Cole's poem “The Falling Leaves” depicts a woman's reaction to World War I. While out for a ride, the sight of autumn leaves falling makes her think of soldiers dying on the battlefields of Flanders. The poem is a mere twelve lines long, but it has a poignancy that lingers after reading it.

The leaves remind Cole of soldiers dying because of the way they fall to the ground in the stillness. Cole uses alliteration with a soft “w” sound in the fourth line: “When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky.” Had they been blown around in the air, the effect would have been quite different. The number of leaves and the way they fall without a sound creates an eerie atmosphere. Cole uses a simile in line 6, comparing the leaves to snowflakes, another image from nature. She says that the leaves “fell like snowflakes wiping out the noon.” There were so many of them that they must have blocked out the light.

In line 7 Cole states that she slowed her pace from that moment on, as she began thinking about the soldiers dying in the war. She describes them in the following line as a “gallant multitude,” referring to their bravery as well as to the large number killed. In line 9 she once again uses alliteration with the soft “w” sound: “Which now all withering lay.” The image conveys a sense of decay and waste, contrasting with the courageousness of the soldiers when they were alive.

In line 10 Cole uses wind as a metaphor, taking an image from nature for the third time in the poem. She says that the soldiers have not been killed because of old age or disease (“pestilence”). In the penultimate line of the poem Cole refers to the “beauty” of the soldiers, creating a contrast with the image of their bodies “withering” in line 9. The reference to their “beauty” implies that they were still very young when they died. The poem closes with a simile in which Cole again compares the dead soldiers to snowflakes. Snowflakes melt so quickly, and the soldiers' lives were so short. This time the mention of the “Flemish clay” leaves no doubt that she is referring to the battlefields of Flanders.

The entire poem is just one sentence, and the ideas are thus closely knitted together. The lines alternate between long and short, although there is more of a difference in length in the first half than in the second. Cole used enjambment four times to link one line to the next, enabling her to extend a description or an image. In fact lines 7, 8 and 9 are all connected, without any pauses created by punctuation.

The rhyme scheme of “The Falling Leaves” is an unusual one: ABCAACDEFDGF. There is a pattern of sorts, and “lay” and “clay” might be considered half rhymes of “by,” “sky” and “silently.” The unusual pattern does give the poem a more natural feel, as rigid rhyme schemes can sometimes seem contrived. They can also create a lighter tone, whereas “The Falling Leaves” is a poem with a sombre mood.

In the space of twelve lines, Margaret Postgate Cole paints a touching picture, paying tribute to the soldiers who lost their lives in World War I. The comparison to autumn leaves falling creates an image of vast numbers dying, their lives wasting away just like the leaves withering. The similes of snowflakes emphasise how short the lives of the young soldiers were. It is hard to read “The Falling Leaves” without being moved, remembering the tragic loss of so many men.

Today, as I rode by,

I saw the brown leaves dropping from their tree

In a still afternoon,

When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,

But thickly, silently,

They fell like snowflakes wiping out the noon;

And wandered slowly thence

For thinking of a gallant multitude

Which now all withering lay,

Slain by no wind of age or pestilence,

But in their beauty strewed

Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish clay.

Originally published on helium.com

Mametz Wood, by Owen Sheers

Mametz Wood

by Owen Sheers

Owen Sheers wrote the poem “Mametz Wood” after visiting the site of a World War I battlefield on the Somme in France. He made the visit on the occasion of the eighty-fifth anniversary of a battle that took place there in 1916. About four thousand soldiers of the 38^th Welsh Division lost their lives during the battle. Walking through the field, Sheers noticed that shells, pieces of barbed wire and fragments of human bones were still to be found coming to the surface after so many years. He also saw a newspaper article with a photograph of a war grave that had recently been discovered near Mametz Wood; he found the photograph very moving. His experiences during that visit to France inspired him to write the poem “Mametz Wood.”

In the opening lines of “Mametz Wood,” Sheers reveals that the site of the battle reverted to farmland and that the farmers found remains of soldiers' bodies long after the war had ended. “The wasted young” shows that most of those who died had barely reached adulthood. Sheers comments in line 3 that the farmers “tended the land back into itself,” trying to rid the fields of associations of war and allow it to be restored to its original state.

Reminders sprang up, however, in the form of fragments of corpses. In the second stanza, Sheers uses metaphors to describe these fragments, starting with a “chit of bone” in line 4; a chit can be a brief note or letter, so the image created is one of a small piece that nevertheless conveys a message. In the same line a shoulder blade is described with the metaphor “a china plate,” as though it is hard but also fragile and perhaps precious. In line 5 a finger is merely a “relic,” as it has no use now. Sheers uses enjambment to link line 5 to line 6 and extend slightly the metaphor in “the blown / and broken bird's egg of a skull.” The image of the shattered bird's egg emphasises the fragility of the skull, and the alliteration with the “b” sound intensifies the description.

The human remains are “all mimicked now in flint,” a phrase where the assonance of the short “i” adds life to the image at the beginning of the third stanza. Sheers echoes the alliteration of the previous stanza in the phrase “breaking blue in white,” describing the colours of the fragments that are pushing through the surface of the earth. The last two lines of the stanza focus on how the soldiers were ordered to walk towards the wood, unaware of the guns that were waiting to fire on them. Sheers describes the machine guns as “nesting” in the wood, once again using an image related to birds, almost as though the guns belonged among the trees.

At the start of the fourth stanza, Sheers returns to the present time, personifying the earth as it “stands sentinel,” creating the impression that it is watching over the field and the remnants of the battle. It is “reaching back into itself for reminders,” an alliterative phrase that personifies the land, conveying the idea that it cannot let go of the memories of the war. Sheers packs imagery into this stanza, using both a simile and alliteration in the last line. He compares the field to a “wound working a foreign body to the surface of the skin,” as though the fragments of bone are alien and need to be pushed up and then removed from the soil.

The last three stanzas of “Mametz Wood” concern the photograph that Sheers saw in a local newspaper of a war grave that had only just been discovered at the time of his visit to France. Twenty soldiers had been buried together, “a broken mosaic of bone linked arm in arm.” It is a poignant image showing how the men were physically connected, dying together, but the “broken mosaic” means that their remains are now fragmented. Sheers closes the fifth stanza with the description of the skeletons that appear to have been stopped in the middle of a “dance-macabre,” a medieval dance of death.

The fifth stanza runs into the sixth, where Sheers mentions the soldiers' boots that have had a longer life than their owners. He goes on to describe the skulls of the soldiers, although not all of them were intact. Those that remained were “tilted back at an angle” with jaws wide open. In the seventh and final stanza Sheers conveys the idea that the soldiers' skeletons appeared to be singing, but that the sound of their voices was not heard until the grave was discovered years later. “Sung” and “tongues” at the end of lines 19 and 21 create a half-rhyme, and this is the only instance of rhyme in the poem apart from “run” and “guns” in lines 8 and 9. These half-rhymes have more impact since there are only two pairs throughout the poem.

His visit to the battlefield and the photograph of the war grave both obviously had a profound effect on Owen Sheers. Although it is not a personal account of war, Sheers has created a moving description of the way in which reminders of the horrors of war are still present and visible many years later. The imagery is very rich, and the persistence of the relics of war is clear. The sight of so many skeletons together in a grave must have stirred up genuine emotion. Sheers' references to dancing and singing create a contrast to the horrific image seen in the photograph, and perhaps accentuate the feeling of wasted lives. The work of poets who actively fought in World War I may be more personal, but “Mametz Wood” highlights the fact that eight-five years later reminders of soldiers' deaths were still very much present.

Originally published on helium.com

Harmonium, by Simon Armitage

HARMONIUM

by Simon Armitage

The Farrand Chapelette is a type of harmonium or small organ. Simon Armitage and his father before him were choir boys at the church of Saint Bartholomew in Marsden, a village in West Yorkshire. On occasions when the congregation at a service was quite small, the organist would play the harmonium instead of the full-size organ.

The harmonium eventually fell out of use, and in the opening lines of his poem “Harmonium” Armitage states that it was “gathering dust / in the shadowy porch.” It would have been thrown in a skip had Armitage not wanted it. In the final line of the first stanza he comments that he could have it “for a song”, an idiom that means very cheaply. There is an obvious play on words here, as the harmonium is of course used to play song tunes.

The second stanza of “Harmonium” is twice as long as the first and describes the musical instrument in detail. The first half of this stanza focuses on the effect sunlight has had in the church. The windows show images of saints and of Jesus Christ rising from the dead; Armitage says that the sun can “beatify” the saints, in other words raise them above the level of ordinary people. He contrasts the fact that the sunlight shining through the stained glass windows has a positive effect whereas it has weathered or “aged” the wooden case of the instrument. Armitage uses the metaphor “fingernails” in describing the way the sun has discoloured the harmonium's keys; the area that the organist would have pressed with his fingers is now yellow. One of the harmonium's notes or keys has “lost its tongue;” the personification to convey the fact that the key is silent brings life to the image.

The last three lines of the second stanza focus on how worn the treadles of the harmonium are. These are like pedals that the organist has to continually push down with his feet as he plays the music. There are actually holes in both of them now. Armitage even describes how the organist used to wear “grey, woollen socks / and leather-soled shoes,” conjuring up a rather dull picture. He uses a half rhyme, with “treadles” at the end of line ten and “pedalled” at the end of line twelve; this is the only instance of rhyme in the stanza.

The third stanza is a shorter one, consisting of five lines. Armitage uses alliteration twice in the opening line, “But its hummed harmonics still struck a chord.” This is a vivid description emphasising the fact that although the harmonium is very old and worn, it means something to the poet. The idiom “to strike a chord” means that something triggers a memory, but of course this is another play on words, since chords can be played on a harmonium. Armitage tells us that the instrument was used for a hundred years and stood “by the choristers' stalls.” He mentions that “father and son” had both sung there; this could refer to himself and his father, although he does not specifically say so. In the closing line of the third stanza, Armitage reverses a simile to describe the singing of the choir boys. He says that “gilded finches” “streamed out” of their throats, using metaphors, and says that the finches were “like high notes,” which is in fact what they were. This imagery is rather complicated but nevertheless conveys the image beautifully.

The fourth and final stanza is the poem's longest one. It concerns Armitage's father, although the poet does not actually say so; the only actual use of the word “father” is in the third stanza. Armitage describes the way his father came to help him “cart” the harmonium away. The description is not a flattering one, and it echoes the description of the aged musical instrument. The poet's father came in a “blue cloud of tobacco smog, / with smoker's fingers and dottled thumbs.” We can't help but be reminded of the harmonium's yellowing keys and weathered wooden case. The two men carry the instrument “flat, laid on its back,” personifying it. This leads to Armitage's father making a remark that the poet says “he, being him, can't help but say.” The father tells his son that the next box he will carry down the nave of the church will be the father's coffin. The word “coffin” is not actually used, but the father says the box “will bear the freight of his own dead weight.” In other words, it will contain his dead body; the phrase “dead weight” is used literally here, but it can also mean a particularly heavy weight or even an oppressive burden.

The last three lines concentrate on Armitage's emotional response to his father's remark. He begins “And I, being me,” echoing the phrase “And he, being him” that came three lines earlier. Armitage says that his reply was “some shallow or sorry phrase or word” that he mouthed. The lack of precision conveys the idea that he couldn't think of the right or suitable answer to such a poignant remark. The poem closes with the line “too starved of breath to make itself heard.” Armitage was so out of breath from carrying the harmonium that he could not speak loudly enough, and perhaps he didn't want his answer to be heard as he felt that it was inadequate. The last two lines rhyme, and these are the only two consecutive lines in the poem that rhyme with each other.

“Harmonium” is a touching poem that initially appears to be about Armitage's attachment to this musical instrument that, although old and almost worn out, was a part of his childhood. The final stanza, however, introduces his father, and Armitage is clearly affected emotionally by his father's comment on the fact that the poet will soon be carrying his coffin into the church. Armitage's use of imagery, plays on words and sparing use of rhyme create a convincing piece of poetry. He shows that objects that are old and no longer used still have value and the memories they trigger are meaningful. More than that, he links the theme of the harmonium with his feelings towards his aging father, whose death draws ever nearer; confronting this idea, the poet is so emotional that he cannot express himself as he would wish.

Originally published on helium.com

Hawk Roosting, by Ted Hughes

Hawk Roosting

by Ted Hughes

The hawk, a bird of prey, is seen in Ted Hughes' poem “Hawk Roosting” resting on a branch of a tree. The poem is written in the first person as though the hawk is speaking, so it is a dramatic monologue. The hawk seems to see himself as the centre of the universe and creates an impression of arrogance, as though the world were made for him and his purposes.

In the first stanza Hughes introduces the hawk “in the top of the wood.” This high position is an indication of superiority. The bird is very still and its eyes are closed. Hughes uses alliteration of the “k” sound several times in the poem, creating a harsh feeling. The sound exists in the word “hawk” itself, of course, and there are further instances of it in line 3 where “hooked” is repeated. In the fourth line “kills” continues the alliteration. This line describes the hawk imagining killing and eating its prey even while it is asleep. A picture of ruthlessness begins to build up. Interestingly, lines 3 and 4 are the only lines in the poem that rhyme.

The second stanza opens with the exclamation “The convenience of the high trees!” The hawk again refers to its high altitude, and the word “convenience” conveys the idea that its position is an ideal one. The bird can look down on the world below, and the impression is that the wood has been created to suit its needs. Hughes links lines 6 and 7 with enjambment to extend the idea that the hawk can fly with ease and make use of the light from the sun. They are “of advantage to me,” once again emphasising the fact that the hawk considers nature to have been created for its own purposes.

The second stanza closes with the hawk's comment that, from the top of the tree, it can see “the earth's face” looking up and easily observe the details. Everything is just right for this bird of prey.

In the opening line of the third stanza, Hughes again uses alliteration with the hard “k” sound in “locked” and “bark.” The hawk has a tight hold upon the branch, whose surface is “rough.” Hughes uses enjambment once more to link lines 10 and 11, describing how features of the hawk's body were created. The word “Creation” is capitalised, thus making it synonymous with God. The fact that the hawk considers that it took “the whole of Creation” to make its feet and feathers gives the bird an arrogant air. In the final line of this stanza, the hawk sees that positions are now reversed; it holds Creation in one small foot, therefore having become all powerful.

The end of the third stanza and the beginning of the fourth are linked by enjambment, as the hawk shows that it is free to “fly up” and circle the world below at its leisure. Line 14 is an extremely telling one: “I kill where I please because it is all mine.” The hawk considers that it has supreme power and owns the whole earth that it can see below. Its ruthlessness is apparent again in lines 15 and 16, as the hawk says it possesses no “sophistry” or subtle reasoning; it kills by “tearing off heads.” There is no attempt to soften the blow of its hunting methods.

The fifth stanza continues the image of the hawk hunting with the brief phrase “The allotment of death.” The hawk chooses what it kills, and it is brutal. Enjambment again links lines 18 and 19, describing how the hawk's passage takes it “Through the bones of the living.” The stanza closes with the statement “No arguments assert my right,” giving the impression that the hawk's methods of killing are unquestionable. It does not need to justify its actions.

The four lines of the sixth and final stanza are all end stopped, and read as concise, matter-of-fact sentences. They emphasise the idea that what the hawk says goes and cannot be contested. The hawk states “Nothing has changed,” but this is no accident. The bird considers, in the penultimate line of the poem, that it has not allowed anything to change. The poem closes with the line “I am going to keep things like that,” asserting the hawk's power over the whole of nature.

Hughes appears to be using the hawk in this poem as a symbol for power. A hawk would of course act instinctively and kill for the purposes of survival. The implications of “Hawk Roosting” are therefore that the poem is an extended metaphor for the behaviour of a tyrant or power-seeking ruler. Such a person would, as the hawk is in this poem, be self-centred and arrogant. An authoritarian despot would not allow himself or his methods to be questioned, and would see the world around him as being designed to suit his purposes. Ted Hughes, in “Hawk Roosting,” paints a picture of a creature that is ruthless and self-involved, showing how a lust for power can take over a being and end in brutality.

Here is the text of the poem:

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.

Inaction, no falsifying dream

Between my hooked head and my hooked feet:

Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!

The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray

Are of advantage to me;

And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.

It took the whole of Creation

To produce my foot, my each feather:

Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -

I kill where I please because it is all mine.

There is no sophistry in my body:

My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.

For the one path of my flight is direct

Through the bones of the living.

No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.

Nothing has changed since I began.

My eye has permitted no change.

I am going to keep things like that.

Originally published on helium.com