'Ode To Silence' by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Aye, but she?
Your other sister and my other soul
Grave Silence, lovelier
Than the three loveliest maidens, what of her?
Clio, not you,
Not you, Calliope,
Nor all your wanton line,
Not Beauty's perfect self shall comfort me
For Silence once departed,
For her the cool-tongued, her the tranquil-hearted,
Whom evermore I follow wistfully,
Wandering Heaven and Earth and Hell and the four seasons through;
Thalia, not you,
Not you, Melpomene,
Not your incomparable feet, O thin Terpsichore, I seek in this great hall,
But one more pale, more pensive, most beloved of you all.
I seek her from afar,
I come from temples where her altars are,
From groves that bear her name,
Noisy with stricken victims now and sacrificial flame,
And cymbals struck on high and strident faces
Obstreperous in her praise
They neither love nor know,
A goddess of gone days,
Departed long ago,
Abandoning the invaded shrines and fanes
Of her old sanctuary,
A deity obscure and legendary,
Of whom there now remains,
For sages to decipher and priests to garble,
Only and for a little while her letters wedged in marble,
Which even now, behold, the friendly mumbling rain erases,
And the inarticulate snow,
Leaving at last of her least signs and traces
None whatsoever, nor whither she is vanished from these places.
"She will love well," I said,
"If love be of that heart inhabiter,
The flowers of the dead;
The red anemone that with no sound
Moves in the wind, and from another wound
That sprang, the heavily-sweet blue hyacinth,
That blossoms underground,
And sallow poppies, will be dear to her.
And will not Silence know
In the black shade of what obsidian steep
Stiffens the white narcissus numb with sleep?
(Seed which Demeter's daughter bore from home,
Uptorn by desperate fingers long ago,
Reluctant even as she,
Undone Persephone,
And even as she set out again to grow
In twilight, in perdition's lean and inauspicious loam).
She will love well," I said,
"The flowers of the dead;
Where dark Persephone the winter round,
Uncomforted for home, uncomforted,
Lacking a sunny southern slope in northern Sicily,
With sullen pupils focussed on a dream,
Stares on the stagnant stream
That moats the unequivocable battlements of Hell,
There, there will she be found,
She that is Beauty veiled from men and Music in a swound."
"I long for Silence as they long for breath
Whose helpless nostrils drink the bitter sea;
What thing can be
So stout, what so redoubtable, in Death
What fury, what considerable rage, if only she,
Upon whose icy breast,
Unquestioned, uncaressed,
One time I lay,
And whom always I lack,
Even to this day,
Being by no means from that frigid bosom weaned away,
If only she therewith be given me back?"
I sought her down that dolorous labyrinth,
Wherein no shaft of sunlight ever fell,
And in among the bloodless everywhere
I sought her, but the air,
Breathed many times and spent,
Was fretful with a whispering discontent,
And questioning me, importuning me to tell
Some slightest tidings of the light of day they know no more,
Plucking my sleeve, the eager shades were with me where I went.
I paused at every grievous door,
And harked a moment, holding up my hand,—and for a space
A hush was on them, while they watched my face;
And then they fell a-whispering as before;
So that I smiled at them and left them, seeing she was not there.
I sought her, too,
Among the upper gods, although I knew
She was not like to be where feasting is,
Nor near to Heaven's lord,
Being a thing abhorred
And shunned of him, although a child of his,
(Not yours, not yours; to you she owes not breath,
Mother of Song, being sown of Zeus upon a dream of Death).
Fearing to pass unvisited some place
And later learn, too late, how all the while,
With her still face,
She had been standing there and seen me pass, without a smile,
I sought her even to the sagging board whereat
The stout immortals sat;
But such a laughter shook the mighty hall
No one could hear me say:
Had she been seen upon the Hill that day?
And no one knew at all
How long I stood, or when at last I sighed and went away.
There is a garden lying in a lull
Between the mountains and the mountainous sea,
I know not where, but which a dream diurnal
Paints on my lids a moment till the hull
Be lifted from the kernel
And Slumber fed to me.
Your foot-print is not there, Mnemosene,
Though it would seem a ruined place and after
Your lichenous heart, being full
Of broken columns, caryatides
Thrown to the earth and fallen forward on their jointless knees,
And urns funereal altered into dust
Minuter than the ashes of the dead,
And Psyche's lamp out of the earth up-thrust,
Dripping itself in marble wax on what was once the bed
Of Love, and his young body asleep, but now is dust instead.
There twists the bitter-sweet, the white wisteria Fastens its fingers in the strangling wall,
And the wide crannies quicken with bright weeds;
There dumbly like a worm all day the still white orchid feeds;
But never an echo of your daughters' laughter
Is there, nor any sign of you at all
Swells fungous from the rotten bough, grey mother of Pieria!
Only her shadow once upon a stone
I saw,—and, lo, the shadow and the garden, too, were gone.
I tell you you have done her body an ill,
You chatterers, you noisy crew!
She is not anywhere!
I sought her in deep Hell;
And through the world as well;
I thought of Heaven and I sought her there;
Above nor under ground
Is Silence to be found,
That was the very warp and woof of you,
Lovely before your songs began and after they were through!
Oh, say if on this hill
Somewhere your sister's body lies in death,
So I may follow there, and make a wreath
Of my locked hands, that on her quiet breast
Shall lie till age has withered them!
(Ah, sweetly from the rest
I see
Turn and consider me
Compassionate Euterpe!)
"There is a gate beyond the gate of Death,
Beyond the gate of everlasting Life,
Beyond the gates of Heaven and Hell," she saith,
"Whereon but to believe is horror!
Whereon to meditate engendereth
Even in deathless spirits such as I
A tumult in the breath,
A chilling of the inexhaustible blood
Even in my veins that never will be dry,
And in the austere, divine monotony
That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
This is her province whom you lack and seek;
And seek her not elsewhere.
Hell is a thoroughfare
For pilgrims,—Herakles,
And he that loved Euridice too well,
Have walked therein; and many more than these;
And witnessed the desire and the despair
Of souls that passed reluctantly and sicken for the air;
You, too, have entered Hell,
And issued thence; but thence whereof I speak
None has returned;—for thither fury brings
Only the driven ghosts of them that flee before all things.
Oblivion is the name of this abode: and she is there."
Oh, radiant Song! Oh, gracious Memory!
Be long upon this height
I shall not climb again!
I know the way you mean,—the little night,
And the long empty day,—never to see
Again the angry light,
Or hear the hungry noises cry my brain!
Ah, but she,
Your other sister and my other soul,
She shall again be mine;
And I shall drink her from a silver bowl,
A chilly thin green wine,
Not bitter to the taste,
Not sweet,
Not of your press, oh, restless, clamorous nine,—
To foam beneath the frantic hoofs of mirth—
But savoring faintly of the acid earth,
And trod by pensive feet
From perfect clusters ripened without haste
Out of the urgent heat
In some clear glimmering vaulted twilight under the odorous vine
. Lift up your lyres! Sing on!
But as for me, I seek your sister whither she is gone.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Ode to Silence: A Poem That Speaks Volumes
Introduction
When one thinks of silence, the first thing that comes to mind is often the absence of sound. But for Edna St. Vincent Millay, silence is not merely the absence of noise, but a powerful force in its own right. In her poem "Ode to Silence," Millay explores the complex nature of silence and its profound impact on human experience.
Analysis
The poem begins with a declaration of the speaker's love for silence:
I know the sound of the ecstatic trill
Of the bird in the boughs overhead,
And the voice of the brook as it swerves and fills
And the flicker's chatter about his bed;
But there's not a sound, no, not a sound
That can fully utter
How glad I am, how glad I am,
That the silence is so utter.
Here, the speaker lists various sounds in nature that are commonly associated with beauty and joy. But despite the beauty of these sounds, the speaker ultimately finds them insufficient to express the depth of her love for silence. This is a striking assertion, as it challenges the conventional idea that sound is inherently more expressive and communicative than silence.
As the poem continues, the speaker explores the different ways in which silence can be experienced. She describes how silence can be both peaceful and unsettling:
For the depths of the sea are silent
And the hills are quieted,
And the stars sing not in the sphere,
And the forests faintly rustle
Like the breathings-in and out
Of the sleepers round my dear.
These lines evoke a sense of stillness and calm, but also a certain eeriness or foreboding. The use of words like "faintly" and "breathings-in and out" suggest a sense of suspended animation, as though the natural world is holding its breath. This creates a sense of tension, as though the silence could be shattered at any moment.
The speaker also explores the relationship between silence and memory:
I remember when I was a little girl
I would stand beneath the tree
And listen to a fainter world,
And hear the faintest melody
That ever came to me.
Here, the speaker suggests that silence can evoke memories and emotions that are not accessible through sound alone. The memory of listening to a "fainter world" beneath a tree suggests a sense of intimacy and connection with nature that is lost in the noise of everyday life.
The poem also touches on the idea that silence can be a source of comfort and healing:
For death, I am content to take her
And eat her like a fruit,
Without a word or question or a prayer,
As in a manner of speaking,
The silence of the perfect fruit
Welds it to the branch.
Here, the speaker compares death to a fruit that can be consumed in silence. The use of the word "perfect" suggests that this silence is not a void, but rather a state of completeness and wholeness. This idea of silence as a source of comfort and wholeness is a recurring theme throughout the poem.
Interpretation
So what can we make of Millay's "Ode to Silence"? At its core, the poem seems to be an exploration of the complex and multifaceted nature of silence. It challenges the conventional idea that sound is inherently more expressive than silence and suggests that silence can be a source of beauty, tension, healing, and memory.
But the poem also raises broader questions about the nature of human experience. By celebrating silence, Millay seems to be inviting us to slow down and pay attention to the quieter moments in our lives. She suggests that there is something profound and meaningful to be found in the spaces between sound and that these moments of stillness can help us connect with ourselves and the world around us in a deeper way.
Ultimately, "Ode to Silence" is a powerful reminder that there is more to human experience than what can be expressed in words or sound. It celebrates the beauty and complexity of silence and encourages us to embrace the quiet moments in our lives with open hearts and minds.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Ode to Silence: A Masterpiece of Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay, the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, is known for her lyrical and passionate poetry. Her works are characterized by their emotional intensity, vivid imagery, and musicality. One of her most celebrated poems is "Ode to Silence," a masterpiece that explores the power and beauty of silence.
The poem is structured as an ode, a type of poem that praises or celebrates a person, place, or thing. In this case, Millay celebrates silence, which she personifies as a goddess-like figure. The poem is divided into three stanzas, each with a different tone and theme.
The first stanza sets the scene and introduces the speaker's relationship with silence. The speaker describes how silence has been her companion since childhood, and how it has comforted her in times of sorrow and pain. She also acknowledges the paradoxical nature of silence, which can be both peaceful and unsettling.
The second stanza delves deeper into the theme of paradox. The speaker describes how silence can be both a source of comfort and a source of fear. She compares silence to a "darkness" that can either be "terrible" or "beautiful." She also explores the idea that silence can be a form of communication, a way of conveying emotions and thoughts without words.
The third and final stanza is the most celebratory and uplifting. The speaker praises silence as a source of inspiration and creativity. She describes how silence can spark the imagination and lead to new ideas and insights. She also acknowledges the transformative power of silence, which can help us to connect with our inner selves and find meaning in our lives.
Throughout the poem, Millay uses vivid imagery and musical language to convey the beauty and power of silence. She personifies silence as a goddess-like figure, describing her as "fair" and "lovely." She also uses metaphors and similes to compare silence to other natural phenomena, such as darkness, snow, and the sea.
One of the most striking aspects of the poem is its use of paradox. Millay explores the idea that silence can be both comforting and unsettling, beautiful and terrible. This reflects the complex nature of silence, which can evoke a wide range of emotions and experiences.
Another key theme of the poem is the idea that silence can be a form of communication. The speaker describes how silence can convey emotions and thoughts without words, and how it can create a sense of intimacy and connection between people. This idea is particularly relevant in our modern world, where we are constantly bombarded by noise and distractions.
Finally, the poem celebrates the transformative power of silence. The speaker describes how silence can inspire creativity and lead to new insights and ideas. She also acknowledges the importance of silence in helping us to connect with our inner selves and find meaning in our lives.
In conclusion, "Ode to Silence" is a masterpiece of poetry that explores the power and beauty of silence. Through vivid imagery, musical language, and paradoxical themes, Edna St. Vincent Millay creates a powerful and moving tribute to this often-overlooked aspect of our lives. Whether we seek comfort, communication, or inspiration, we can all benefit from the transformative power of silence.
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