"Sir Patrick Spens" by Anonymous

"Sir Patrick Spens" is a poem of Scottish origin, and has largely been passed down by tradition. No original author is known of and this poem is the only mention of Sir Patrick Spens in history.

     The king sits in Dumferling town
         Drinking the bluid-red wine:
     'O whar will I get a guid sailor
         To sail this ship of mine?'

     Up and spak an eldern knicht,
         Sat at the king's richt knee:
     'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
         That sails upon the sea.'

     The king has written a braid letter
         And signed it wi' his hand,
     And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
         Was walking on the sand.

     The first line that Sir Patrick read
         A loud lauch lauched he;
     The next line that Sir Patrick read,
         The tear blinded his ee.

     'O wha is this has done this deed,
         This ill deed done to me,
     To send me out this time o'the year,
         To sail upon the sea?

     'Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all,
         Our guid ship sails the morn.'
     'O say na sae, my master dear,
         For I fear a deadly storm.'

     'Late, late yestre'en I saw the new moon
         Wi'the old moon in his arm,
     And I fear, I fear, my dear master,
         That we will come to harm.'

     O our Scots nobles were richt laith
         To weet their cork-heeled shoon,
     But lang or a' the play were played
         Their hats they swam aboon.

     O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
         Wi'their fans into their hand,
     Or ere they see Sir Patrick Spens
         Come sailing to the land.

     O lang, lang may the ladies stand
         Wi'their gold kems in their hair,
     Waiting for their ain dear lords,
         For they'll never see them mair.

     Half o'er, half o'er to Aberdour
         It's fifty fathoms deep,
     And there lies guid Sir Patrick Spens
    Wi'the Scots lords at his feet.

       “Sir Patrick Spens” is an epic story of a sailor who is ordered by his king to sail across the sea during a storm. This poem is a ballad, and is divided into a series of quatrains. Within the quatrains there is a line of iambic tetrameter, followed by a line of iambic trimeter, another line of iambic tetrameter, and completed with a line of iambic trimeter. This is the standard format for a ballad. In general there is no dramatic shift in the format of the poem, although there is a dramatic turning point near the end of the poem, when the speaker tells the audience that the sailors’ hats “swam aboon,” meaning that they were floating above the sunken ship. The rest of the poem seems like a lamentation, fitting in with the mournful tone of the rest of the poem.

       The reason that this poem is formatted as a ballad is because of its heroic nature. There is something about a crew loyally following their captain into certain death that evokes a sense of pride, one that can be admired by those who fulfil their duty without question. The meter of this poem moves it along at an almost upbeat pace. It is clear that this was meant to be sung, and indeed ballads were often sung by bards with musical accompaniment. Overall, the poem leaves you with a feeling of wistful sadness which contradicts the upbeat flow of the poem.

"Rorschach" by Jeanne Marie Beaumont

Jeanne Marie Beaumont is an American poet who lives in New York City. She has published a total of three books of poetry. Her works have been referenced in several anthologies. She wrote "Rorschach" in New York in 1997.

      Snow patches along the creek bank.
      Too simple. Wings melting there.

      The tops of two maples
      beside the window of my childhood bedroom.

      Stain on a linen napkin left by lip-
      stick—why it's called that. Go on.

      A man's tattered bow tie
      put through the wash cycle—by accident.

      A dress, haunted by the child who wore it,
      standing by itself in the center of a room.

      A face. Whose? A woman's face, lathered up
      with soap except around the eyes.

      A fluke. A flute? A fluke
      with two eyes on one side of its head.

      The cigarette ground into the floor
      by Bette Davis in All About Eve.

      Next. A house that can't be seen
      from the road—no, what hides it.

      Graffiti of the nearsighted
      painted by mouth.

      And if I say "tree"?
      I'd say—death by wood.

      Cabinet? Casket.
      Tell me again.

      A map. A map of the island
      where I asked to be born.

       This poem is inherently meaningful beyond the literal comprehension of its content. A Rorschach test is in and of itself an examination of subtleties presented by knee-jerk reactions, each response a metaphor. Although there is no way to know what is meant by each of the speaker’s lines, we can begin to infer some things right away. We can deduce that the person speaking in italics is the psychologist who is talking with the narrator based on her responses to the narrator. In this session the narrator is responding to a series of pictures. We do not get the actual pictures, only what the narrator sees in them. From each of these short metaphorical responses we can guess at a few things about the narrator. Throughout the poem we get images of useless and seemingly ugly items: a stained napkin, a ruined tie, a fluke, a ground up cigarette, graffiti painted by mouth by near sighted people. This might be a reflection of the narrator’s disdain for this counseling session, writing it off as useless. It could also relate to all the childhood imagery: her childhood bedroom, a child’s dress hanging empty, and a mention of wanting to be born in a particular place. With this in mind, the narrator may be showing her discontent with her childhood, something that she cannot bring herself to say outright but through the Rorschach test she is able to express her true feelings. In this different interpretation of this poem, the test is a useful tool and is not written off by the narrator. That is where metaphor is beautiful; poetry is not the same to every person. Every reader gets a different interpretation, and not one of them is wrong.

"This Is Just To Say" by William Carlos Williams

William Carlos Williams was an American poet from Rutherford, New Jersey. He lived from the years of 1883 to 1962. He developed a love for poetry in high school and decided that he would be a doctor and a poet. He gained in popularity because of his easily understood language and his involvement with Imagism. What he sought to accomplish in Imagism was to move away from abstract, muddy language and create a crisp image through his poetry.

      I have eaten
      the plums
      that were in
      the icebox

      and which
      you were probably
      saving
      for breakfast

      Forgive me
      they were delicious
      so sweet
      and so cold

        Williams uses language in this poem on multiple levels. Above all else, the speaker describes the plums which he ate. From his words we know that they were in the icebox, they were “delicious,” “sweet,” and “cold,” and most importantly, that they were not his. Understanding this is the key to understanding the irony that he creates in the last stanza. In the first stanza he simply explains that he ate the plums that were in the icebox, a seemingly harmless act. We understand in the second stanza that the unnamed owner of the plums was saving them for breakfast and therefore would not be very happy with the speaker. So far, this seems like a sincere apology. In the last stanza, however, the language is very cleverly organized so as to contradict the speaker’s apparent feelings of sorrow. If he had ended the poem at “Forgive me,” then the apology would have been legitimate, but he went on to say that the plums were “delicious / so sweet / and so cold,” creating an image of the speaker losing attention for the apology and thinking about how he enjoyed betraying his friend, showing that he is not truly contrite and therefore negating his apology. The irony here is that we really couldn't have known that the narrator wasn't sorry, expect for that his tone showed us that he secretly enjoyed the plums and does not regret the fact that he stole from his friend.

"Morning" by Billy Collins

Billy Collins is an American poet who is now 73 years old. He served as the Poet Laureate from 2001 to 2003. His poetry is extremely popular due to its contemporary themes and relatable content. He gained literary merit for his work starting in the early nineties with his book Questions about Angels. 

      Why do we bother with the rest of the day,
      the swale of the afternoon,
      the sudden dip into evening,

      then night with his notorious perfumes,
      his many-pointed stars?

      This is the best—
      throwing off the light covers,
      feet on the cold floor,
      and buzzing around the house on espresso—

      maybe a splash of water on the face,
      a palmful of vitamins—
      but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso,
   
      dictionary and atlas open on the rug,
      the typewriter waiting for the key of the head,
      a cello on the radio,

      and, if necessary, the windows—
      trees fifty, a hundred years old
      out there,
      heavy clouds on the way
      and the lawn steaming like a horse
      in the early morning.

          Setting has everything to do with how theme is developed in a poem. Setting consists both of temporal and spacial location, and in Collins' poem, "Morning," both are equally important to development of theme. Collins compares several temporal locations in this poem to show the superiority of morning. In the first few stanzas he questions the existence of the other times of day, such as the "swale of afternoon" or the "sudden dip into evening." He goes on to explain why the morning is the best time of day. He enjoys “throwing off the light covers, / feet on the cold floor, / and buzzing around the house on espresso.” These things are all related to the time in the morning when you just woke up. There is also the spacial aspect of setting, which is understood to be in the speaker’s house. This creates a feeling of intimacy between the speaker and the reader and helps them relate. The speaker also uses the last stanza to establish a dark, mellow mood, one that goes hand in hand with morning and clams down the activity of the scene in the previous stanzas. With “heavy clouds on the way,” the speaker makes the reader feel more comfortable being in the established setting. The repetition of espresso also serves to endear the reader, even if the reader does not drink espresso, by showing a lighter side of the speaker. Overall, this poem’s setting is conducive to a highly relatable and endearing experience for the reader.

"She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways" by William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was an English poet who lived from 1770 to 1850. A notable experience in his younger life was the death of his mother at age 8, an experience that arguably affected some of his later works. One might even see a correlation between the death and the poem below, as you will see.

     She dwelt among the untrodden ways

               Beside the springs of Dove,

     A Maid whom there were none to praise

              And very few to love:

     A violet by a mossy stone

              Half hidden from the eye!

     —Fair as a star, when only one

              Is shining in the sky.     

     She lived unknown, and few could know

              When Lucy ceased to be;

     But she is in her grave, and, oh,

              The difference to me!  

     The speaker in this poem, not necessarily Wordsworth, uses his tone and style to show his feelings for the deceased woman, Lucy. He shows sincere grief along with admiration of her simple yet beautiful existence. It is clear that the narrator misses Lucy, although it is unclear what kind of relationship he had with her. With knowledge of the author the reader might infer that this is a poem about Wordsworth's mother, who died when he was eight. However, one cannot infer that the speaker is the same person or has the same ideals as the author. While we cannot assume anything about Wordsworth, we can assume some things about the speaker, namely that he misses Lucy and that he thinks very highly of her. Using the metaphor of a small flower he characterizes her as a hidden treasure, something he regrets that more people didn’t appreciate while she was alive. He goes on to say that nobody really knows when she died, further removing her from society. After more careful analysis we get the idea that the narrator himself does not know Lucy personally, but that she is a sort of figure of influence on him. Because she passed away, he is affected greatly, although she did not directly relate to his life. Here we see a story that mirrors Wordsworth and his mother, where the same feelings are being portrayed. Although it is unfair to assume this from the beginning, it becomes clear that his mother did have some influence on this poem.

"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden

Robert Hayden was an American poet who was born in Detroit in 1913. He served as the first African American Poet Laureate from 1976-1978. He attended the University of Michigan with W. H. Auden, who proved to be a major influence on his work. His poetry took off on a national level in the 1960's. He wrote "Those Winter Sundays" in 1966.

          Sundays too my father got up early
          and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
          then with cracked hands that ached
          from labor in the weekday weather made
          banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

          I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
          When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
          and slowly I would rise and dress,
          fearing the chronic angers of that house,

          Speaking indifferently to him,
          who had driven out the cold
          and polished my good shoes as well.
          What did I know, what did I know
          of love’s austere and lonely offices?

            Robert Hayden, in his poem “Those Winter Sundays,” uses tone to express embarrassment and regret for how he treated his father during his youth. Hayden creates a narrative that is easily relatable to readers of all ages who, at one point in their adolescence showed contempt for their parents not because they are rotten or evil, but because they were ignorant of “love’s austere and lonely offices.” He creates a contrast in the first two stanzas between the narrator’s life and his father’s life. He uses diction such as “blueblack cold” and “cracked hands that ached” to create a sense of sympathy that he uses to create the tone of self-loathing in the rest of the poem. In the second stanza, the father’s dressing in the “blueblack cold” is contrasted by the narrator’s dressing in the warm house, a product of his father’s suffering in the first stanza. Set up by this contrast, the narrator laments his ignorance in the final stanza. Repetition of the phrase “what did I know” cements his tone towards his childhood folly.

            The ultimate goal of the tone that the narrator creates is to evoke sympathy with the reader for the father, and shame for the narrator, which may be relatable to some readers. The stance that the narrator is taking is that parents do things out of love which so often go unappreciated, and that in a larger sense, many things are done out of love which gain no recognition at all. We don’t do them because we want credit, we do them simply out of love.

"The Aim Was Song" by Robert Frost

Robert Frost was a poet who lived between the years of 1874 to 1963. He sold his first poem, "My Butterfly. An elegy," in 1894 for $15. He has won four Pulitzer Prizes for his works. He wrote "The Aim Was Song" in 1923, at which time he was living in New Hampshire.

      The Aim Was Song

      Before man came to blow it right
        The wind once blew itself untaught,
      And did its loudest day and night
        In any rough place where it caught.

      Man came to tell it what was wrong:
        It hadn't found the place to blow;
      It blew too hard - the aim was song.
        And listen - how it ought to go!

      He took a little in his mouth,
        And held it long enough for north
      To be converted into south,
        And then by measure blew it forth.

      By measure. It was word and note,
        The wind the wind had meant to be -
      A little through the lips and throat.
        The aim was song - the wind could see.

         Frost beautifully blends matter and form to create an ostensible flow through this poem. He uses a consistent rhyme scheme coupled with constant meter to create a feeling of flowing which he reinforced with the content of the poem. At first glance this poem might seem like a criticism of man's innate habit to conquer and control nature, however the tone of Frost's poem makes it clear that he is celebrating man's ability to compliment the glory of the wild wind and turn it into song. Frost does not claim that man stopped the wind, only changed its direction. The wind, before man’s intervention, was struggling to find “the place to blow,” in that it blew with enthusiasm but without order. This playful characterization of the wind helps the reader understand his view towards the subject. In the last stanza, he says “It was word and note, / The wind the wind had meant to be,” confirming the audience’s belief that Frost approves of man’s correction of the wind.
This poem can also be understood in the context of art in general, where the wind is all that has potential to be created, and the man forming song as the artist. Frost shows the audience that art is always there, it is up to man to form and mold it. Whether it song, poetry, or even the old oil on canvas, art is just the taming of a wild, abstract idea of beauty.