I loved this poem (such a rest of mutual silence in its cadences) -- and this whole interpretation, and especially of the sails at the end -- it does seem to gesture at some voyage beyond shared silence. I wondered if those dark sails might not also gesture at the shadows of speech? It seems me to that being able to express something truly is like spreading a sail and waiting for wind... (I don't know that it is at all what she meant; I just couldn't help wondering...)
(My mind was feeling over this poem again this morning -- it reminded me a little of this one: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45009/the-house-of-life-19-silent-noon. I don't think it likely that the sails are shadows of their own words; but whether it is "the voyage out" or the only faintly visible traffic of the more ominous world, it does convey so well, like Dante Gabriel's poem with landscape as visible silence -- the immensity of such an expanse. I love these poems and commentaries so much, whenever I get a chance to read or catch up on reading them... thank you.)
Those are wonderfully bold enjambments at the very beginning and very end, separating the adjective (delicious/wind-bellowed) from the noun (Smile/Sails), which in turn is a displaced beat. Often when I come across a poet attempting that, it sounds clumsy to me - but here it works just beautifully!
None of the odd numbered lines rhyme, do they? But I feel the matching numbered odd lines from each stanza have a nice progression?
And yes, it's the beginning of each quatrain that's unrhymed --- but each of those lines does move things forward, with a new conceit for that shared intimate silence. The poem moves like a Shakespearean sonnet (I'm thinking especially of 73), unfolding an idea quatrain by quatrain, but stopping short of fulfilling the form.
That's a great observation about the enjambments. I tend to love what I think of as the "strong attack" at the start of a line, i.e. beginning what's otherwise a fairly iambic line on a stressed, rather than an unstressed syllable (a thing I frequently do myself and simply do not worry about that lost syllable!).
I think it was Theodore Roethke, a lot later, who maintained that lines ought both to start and to end on strong words, which usually ends up meaning stressed syllables --- I think he said that you ought to be able to read down the both the left and right margins of the poem, and the words would make almost their own poem (rather than being, on the left side, just articles and prepositions).
This obviously messes with strict meter, but it's a rule I've always had in mind. Here Deutsch obviously doesn't really do that (nor is she being all that metrically strict, though some lines, such as line 4, are perfectly straightforward iambic pentameter), but her lines that begin with stresses --- like the change from line 1 to line 2 --- are really striking and satisfying, I think, little moments of drama in what is largely --- for obvious reasons --- a quiet poem.
Well, of the three ways to open on a stress - a heavy offbeat (the “spondee”), omitting the opening offbeat (the “headless” line, for which “strong attack” is a good description!), and beat displacement - she chose beat displacement, which can have the advantage of combining emphasis with lightness and springiness!
Three lines each of the the first two stanzas open on what I call a “swing” (DUM-di-di-DUM), where the opening beat is pulled back; and their sprightliness is enhanced by the thread of “igh” assonance (“Silence…like…Smile of a child…”, eventually shifting to the end line rhymes in the final stanza: light/night).
I love the progressive opening out of
SILence with YOU…
SMILE of a CHILD aSLEEP…
ONly the HINted WONder of its DREAming
capped with the gentle heaviness of three slow syllables in the next line, which in turn release into a swift falling movement towards that final “rest”:
the SOFT, SLOW-BREAthing MIracle of REST
The whole poem is beautifully rhythmically structured!
And yet words are all I have to take your heart away, all the rest is silence.
Lovely poem! I keep coming back and reading it again.
I loved this poem (such a rest of mutual silence in its cadences) -- and this whole interpretation, and especially of the sails at the end -- it does seem to gesture at some voyage beyond shared silence. I wondered if those dark sails might not also gesture at the shadows of speech? It seems me to that being able to express something truly is like spreading a sail and waiting for wind... (I don't know that it is at all what she meant; I just couldn't help wondering...)
(My mind was feeling over this poem again this morning -- it reminded me a little of this one: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45009/the-house-of-life-19-silent-noon. I don't think it likely that the sails are shadows of their own words; but whether it is "the voyage out" or the only faintly visible traffic of the more ominous world, it does convey so well, like Dante Gabriel's poem with landscape as visible silence -- the immensity of such an expanse. I love these poems and commentaries so much, whenever I get a chance to read or catch up on reading them... thank you.)
Thank you for your insightful comments, and for reading. Glad you're enjoying the poems!
Those are wonderfully bold enjambments at the very beginning and very end, separating the adjective (delicious/wind-bellowed) from the noun (Smile/Sails), which in turn is a displaced beat. Often when I come across a poet attempting that, it sounds clumsy to me - but here it works just beautifully!
None of the odd numbered lines rhyme, do they? But I feel the matching numbered odd lines from each stanza have a nice progression?
delicious/departure/evening
dreaming/meadow/wind-bellowed
And yes, it's the beginning of each quatrain that's unrhymed --- but each of those lines does move things forward, with a new conceit for that shared intimate silence. The poem moves like a Shakespearean sonnet (I'm thinking especially of 73), unfolding an idea quatrain by quatrain, but stopping short of fulfilling the form.
That's a great observation about the enjambments. I tend to love what I think of as the "strong attack" at the start of a line, i.e. beginning what's otherwise a fairly iambic line on a stressed, rather than an unstressed syllable (a thing I frequently do myself and simply do not worry about that lost syllable!).
I think it was Theodore Roethke, a lot later, who maintained that lines ought both to start and to end on strong words, which usually ends up meaning stressed syllables --- I think he said that you ought to be able to read down the both the left and right margins of the poem, and the words would make almost their own poem (rather than being, on the left side, just articles and prepositions).
This obviously messes with strict meter, but it's a rule I've always had in mind. Here Deutsch obviously doesn't really do that (nor is she being all that metrically strict, though some lines, such as line 4, are perfectly straightforward iambic pentameter), but her lines that begin with stresses --- like the change from line 1 to line 2 --- are really striking and satisfying, I think, little moments of drama in what is largely --- for obvious reasons --- a quiet poem.
Well, of the three ways to open on a stress - a heavy offbeat (the “spondee”), omitting the opening offbeat (the “headless” line, for which “strong attack” is a good description!), and beat displacement - she chose beat displacement, which can have the advantage of combining emphasis with lightness and springiness!
Three lines each of the the first two stanzas open on what I call a “swing” (DUM-di-di-DUM), where the opening beat is pulled back; and their sprightliness is enhanced by the thread of “igh” assonance (“Silence…like…Smile of a child…”, eventually shifting to the end line rhymes in the final stanza: light/night).
I love the progressive opening out of
SILence with YOU…
SMILE of a CHILD aSLEEP…
ONly the HINted WONder of its DREAming
capped with the gentle heaviness of three slow syllables in the next line, which in turn release into a swift falling movement towards that final “rest”:
the SOFT, SLOW-BREAthing MIracle of REST
The whole poem is beautifully rhythmically structured!
Thank you for this provocative poem -- beautifully paired with that lovely picture. I'll be thinking about this one all day!
I didn't know her poems at all until a couple of years ago, but the very early ones I've read are really marvelous.