What a lovely example of Heraclitus' statement that, one can never enter the same river again, or here nestle under the same tree as the same person, still, full of June's blossoms.
I love Teasdale so much. The word tremulous is a particular one in her vocabulary. Describing a particular tree-quality, as in “There Will Come Soft Rains” and wild plum trees in tremulous white (however, that poem turns on a dime to its actual theme of war, not love).
I will add this fine poem to my mental collection of World War 1 poems. If Wikipedia was right, it was written during the German offensive in the spring of 1918 when it looked like the Germans might win the war before the American army could get fully engaged. (I also see from Wikipedia that she wrote other war poems. I will find them and add them, too.)
Freshly here I won’t pretend to be nothing more than an eyeing novice—WAS TOTALLY HOOKED by the pentameter waves akin to nature, seasons, emotion .. even pictured a 20s subway way off slowing stopping and starting again .. but by far: time
Welcome! And thanks for your comment --- I too love the way that the meter in this poem is part of its worldbuilding. Sara Teasdale worked often in strict patterns of meter and rhyme (I first encountered her in children's poetry anthologies when I was a child), but what she does here with a much looser sense of pattern is remarkable.
When I was in high school, I was attracted to Matthew Arnold's "Dover Beach" for similar reasons. His poem seems more tightly in hand, perhaps, but the changing meter--pentameter, tetrameter, trimeter, at least one dimeter--gave me an almost tactile feel for the restless ocean, the ebbing of waves and of "the sea of faith." I wonder what I'd have made of Teasdale's poem.
Yeah, whether Teasdale would speak to a teenaged boy is an interesting question. I can see how Arnold's big existential anxiety absolutely would (with his meters as part of that poem's whole cosmos). Not that I'd ever suggest that either a poet or a reader would be limited --- I hate the whole idea of "relatability," as if only X audience could possibly understand Y poet and vice versa. But still . . . an interesting question!
Helpful commentary on a lovely poem.
A good poem, well assayed. Thank you. These poems and reflections are a nice antidote to the daily mortal combat of practicing law.
Put on the armor of poetry! (and we're happy to help you do that)
What a lovely example of Heraclitus' statement that, one can never enter the same river again, or here nestle under the same tree as the same person, still, full of June's blossoms.
I love Teasdale so much. The word tremulous is a particular one in her vocabulary. Describing a particular tree-quality, as in “There Will Come Soft Rains” and wild plum trees in tremulous white (however, that poem turns on a dime to its actual theme of war, not love).
I will add this fine poem to my mental collection of World War 1 poems. If Wikipedia was right, it was written during the German offensive in the spring of 1918 when it looked like the Germans might win the war before the American army could get fully engaged. (I also see from Wikipedia that she wrote other war poems. I will find them and add them, too.)
Freshly here I won’t pretend to be nothing more than an eyeing novice—WAS TOTALLY HOOKED by the pentameter waves akin to nature, seasons, emotion .. even pictured a 20s subway way off slowing stopping and starting again .. but by far: time
Welcome! And thanks for your comment --- I too love the way that the meter in this poem is part of its worldbuilding. Sara Teasdale worked often in strict patterns of meter and rhyme (I first encountered her in children's poetry anthologies when I was a child), but what she does here with a much looser sense of pattern is remarkable.
When I was in high school, I was attracted to Matthew Arnold's "Dover Beach" for similar reasons. His poem seems more tightly in hand, perhaps, but the changing meter--pentameter, tetrameter, trimeter, at least one dimeter--gave me an almost tactile feel for the restless ocean, the ebbing of waves and of "the sea of faith." I wonder what I'd have made of Teasdale's poem.
Yeah, whether Teasdale would speak to a teenaged boy is an interesting question. I can see how Arnold's big existential anxiety absolutely would (with his meters as part of that poem's whole cosmos). Not that I'd ever suggest that either a poet or a reader would be limited --- I hate the whole idea of "relatability," as if only X audience could possibly understand Y poet and vice versa. But still . . . an interesting question!