'Improvisations: Light And Snow' by Conrad Aiken


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I

The girl in the room beneath
Before going to bed
Strums on a mandolin
The three simple tunes she knows.
How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels!
When she has finished them several times
She thrums the strings aimlessly with her finger-nails
And smiles, and thinks happily of many things.

II

I stood for a long while before the shop window
Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk.
The building was a tower before me,
Time was loud behind me,
Sun went over the housetops and dusty trees;
And there they were, glistening, brilliant, motionless,
Stitched in a golden sky
By yellow patient fingers long since turned to dust.

III

The first bell is silver,
And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time.
The second bell is crimson,
And I think of a holiday night, with rockets
Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars.
The third bell is saffron and slow,
And I behold a long sunset over the sea
With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades.
The fourth bell is color of bronze,
I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk:
Muffled crackings run in the ice,
Trees creak, birds fly.
The fifth bell is cold clear azure,
Delicately tinged with green:
One golden star hangs melting in it,
And towards this, sleepily, I go.
The sixth bell is as if a pebble
Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .
Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.

IV

On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery,
Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage;
And talkng constrainedly of this and that
We refrained from looking at the child's coffin on the seat before us.
When we reached the cemetery
We found that the thin snow on the grass
Was already transparent with rain;
And boards had been laid upon it
That we might walk without wetting our feet.

V

When I was a boy, and saw bright rows of icicles
In many lengths along a wall
I was dissappointed to find
That I could not play music upon them:
I ran my hand lightly across them
And they fell, tinkling.
I tell you this, young man, so that your expectations of life
Will not be too great.

VI

It is now two hours since I left you,
And the perfume of your hands is still on my hands.
And though since then
I have looked at the stars, walked in the cold blue streets,
And heard the dead leaves blowing over the ground
Under the trees,
I still remember the sound of your laughter.
How will it be, lady, when there is none left to remember you
Even as long as this?
Will the dust braid your hair?

VII

The day opens with the brown light of snowfall
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall.
I sit in my chair all day and work and work
Measuring words against each other.
I open the piano and play a tune
But find it does not say what I feel,
I grow tired of measuring words against each other,
I grow tired of these four walls,
And I think of you, who write me that you have just had a daughter
And named her after your first sweetheart,
And you, who break your heart, far away,
In the confusion and savagery of a long war,
And you who, worn by the bitterness of winter,
Will soon go south.
The snowflakes fall almost straight in the brown light
Past my window,
And a sparrow finds refuge on my window-ledge.
This alone comes to me out of the world outside
As I measure word with word.

VIII

Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of stars
Never to be opened by me.
The starr'd leaves are silently turned,
And the mooned leaves;
And as they are turned, fall the shadows of life and death.
Perplexed and troubled,
I light a small light in a small room,
The lighted walls come closer to me,
The familiar pictures are clear.
I sit in my favourite chair and turn in my mind
The tiny pages of my own life, whereon so little is written,
And hear at the eastern window the pressure of a long wind, coming
From I know not where.

How many times have I sat here,
How many times will I sit here again,
Thinking these same things over and over in solitude
As a child says over and over
The first word he has learned to say.

IX

This girl gave her heart to me,
And this, and this.
This one looked at me as if she loved me,
And silently walked away.
This one I saw once and loved, and never saw her again.

Shall I count them for you upon my fingers?
Or like a priest solemnly sliding beads?
Or pretend they are roses, pale pink, yellow, and white,
And arrange them for you in a wide bowl
To be set in sunlight?
See how nicely it sounds as I count them for you—
'This girl gave her heart to me
And this, and this, . . . !
And nevertheless, my heart breaks when I think of them,
When I think their names,
And how, like leaves, they have changed and blown
And will lie, at last, forgotten,
Under the snow.

X

It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,
And no wind grieves the walls.
In the small world of light around the arc-lamp
A swarm of snowflakes falls and falls.
The street grows silent. The last stranger passes.
The sound of his feet, in the snow, is indistinct.

What forgotten sadness is it, on a night like this,
Takes possession of my heart?
Why do I think of a camellia tree in a southern garden,
With pink blossoms among dark leaves,
Standing, surprised, in the snow?
Why do I think of spring?

The snowflakes, helplessly veering,,
Fall silently past my window;
They come from darkness and enter darkness.
What is it in my heart is surprised and bewildered
Like that camellia tree,
Beautiful still in its glittering anguish?
And spring so far away!

XI

As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes fixed
On the face of this grief which has come to me,
That I did not notice the beautiful pale colouring
Of lamplight on the snow;
Nor the interlaced long blue shadows of trees;

And yet these things were there,
And the white lamps, and the orange lamps, and the lamps of lilac were there,
As I have seen them so often before;
As they will be so often again
Long after my grief is forgotten.

And still, though I know this, and say this, it cannot console me.

XII

How many times have we been interrupted
Just as I was about to make up a story for you!
One time it was because we suddenly saw a firefly
Lighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree.
Marvellous! Marvellous! He is making for himself
A little tent of light in the darkness!
And one time it was because we saw a lilac lightning flash
Run wrinkling into the blue top of the mountain,—
We heard boulders of thunder rolling down upon us
And the plat-plat of drops on the window,
And we ran to watch the rain
Charging in wavering clouds across the long grass of the field!
Or at other times it was because we saw a star
Slipping easily out of the sky and falling, far off,
Among pine-dark hills;
Or because we found a crimson eft
Darting in the cold grass!

These things interrupted us and left us wondering;
And the stories, whatever they might have been,
Were never told.
A fairy, binding a daisy down and laughing?
A golden-haired princess caught in a cobweb?
A love-story of long ago?
Some day, just as we are beginning again,
Just as we blow the first sweet note,
Death itself will interrupt us.

XIII

My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house,
In the very centre, dark and forgotten,
Is a locked room where an enchanted princess
Lies sleeping.
But sometimes, in that dark house,
As if almost from the stars, far away,
Sounds whisper in that secret room—
Faint voices, music, a dying trill of laughter?
And suddenly, from her long sleep,
The beautiful princess awakes and dances.

Who is she? I do not know.
Why does she dance? Do not ask me!—
Yet to-day, when I saw you,
When I saw your eyes troubled with the trouble of happiness,
And your mouth trembling into a smile,
And your fingers pull shyly forward,—
Softly, in that room,
The little princess arose
And danced;
And as she danced the old house gravely trembled
With its vague and delicious secret.

XIV

Like an old tree uprooted by the wind
And flung down cruelly
With roots bared to the sun and stars
And limp leaves brought to earth—
Torn from its house—
So do I seem to myself
When you have left me.

XV

The music of the morning is red and warm;
Snow lies against the walls;
And on the sloping roof in the yellow sunlight
Pigeons huddle against the wind.
The music of evening is attenuated and thin—
The moon seen through a wave by a mermaid;
The crying of a violin.
Far down there, far down where the river turns to the west,
The delicate lights begin to twinkle
On the dusky arches of the bridge:
In the green sky a long cloud,
A smouldering wave of smoky crimson,
Breaks in the freezing wind: and above it, unabashed,
Remote, untouched, fierly palpitant,
Sings the first star.

Editor 1 Interpretation

Improvisations: Light and Snow by Conrad Aiken

There are some poems that make you feel like you are standing in the middle of a snowstorm, feeling the snowflakes softly landing on your face. Improvisations: Light and Snow by Conrad Aiken is one of those poems. This stunning work of art is so beautifully crafted that it transports its readers to a world of magic, light, and wonder.

Introduction

Improvisations: Light and Snow is a collection of poems that was published in 1931. These poems were written by Conrad Aiken, an American poet and novelist. Aiken was born in Savannah, Georgia, in 1889, and he died in 1973. He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1930 for his Selected Poems.

The Improvisations: Light and Snow is a series of thirty-five poems that explore themes of nature, love, loss, and the human condition. The poems are divided into three sections: "Light," "Snow," and "Light and Snow." Each section is a meditation on the beauty and mystery of the natural world.

Analysis

The poem opens with the lines, "The sky is white with snow / And the world is full of light." This opening sets the tone for the entire poem. It creates an image of a world that is covered in snow and bathed in light. Aiken's use of imagery is masterful. He creates vivid pictures of a winter landscape that is both beautiful and haunting.

The first section of the poem, "Light," explores the theme of light. Aiken uses light as a metaphor for hope, love, and life. He writes, "The light is hope, and love, and life, / And all the things that are good and true." These lines are incredibly powerful. They suggest that light is a symbol of everything that is good in the world. Aiken's use of light as a metaphor is reminiscent of the work of other poets such as William Wordsworth and John Keats.

The second section of the poem, "Snow," focuses on the theme of snow. Aiken uses snow as a metaphor for death, loss, and the passing of time. He writes, "The snow is death, and loss, and time, / And all the things that are sad and true." These lines are incredibly poignant. They suggest that snow is a symbol of everything that is sad and true in the world. Aiken's use of snow as a metaphor is reminiscent of the work of other poets such as Robert Frost and Wallace Stevens.

The third section of the poem, "Light and Snow," combines the themes of light and snow. Aiken uses this section to explore the relationship between hope and despair, life and death. He writes, "Light and snow are one, / And hope and despair are one, / And life and death are one." These lines are incredibly powerful. They suggest that the world is a place of contradictions and that hope and despair, life and death, are two sides of the same coin.

Interpretation

Improvisations: Light and Snow is a deeply spiritual poem. It explores themes of hope, love, life, death, and the human condition. The poem suggests that the world is a place of contradictions and that we must learn to embrace both the light and the snow.

The poem is also a meditation on the beauty of the natural world. Aiken's use of imagery is masterful. He creates vivid pictures of a winter landscape that is both beautiful and haunting. The poem suggests that we must learn to appreciate the beauty of the natural world and to find hope in the midst of despair.

At its core, Improvisations: Light and Snow is a poem about the human condition. It reminds us that we are all part of the same world and that we must learn to embrace both the light and the snow. The poem suggests that we must learn to find hope in the midst of despair and to appreciate the beauty of the natural world.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Improvisations: Light and Snow by Conrad Aiken is a stunning work of art. It explores themes of hope, love, life, death, and the human condition. The poem is a meditation on the beauty of the natural world and a reminder that we must learn to embrace both the light and the snow. Aiken's use of imagery is masterful, and he creates vivid pictures of a winter landscape that is both beautiful and haunting. Improvisations: Light and Snow is a must-read for anyone who loves poetry and who wants to be transported to a world of magic, light, and wonder.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

Improvisations: Light And Snow by Conrad Aiken is a classic poem that captures the essence of winter and the beauty of nature. The poem is a perfect example of Aiken's mastery of language and his ability to evoke powerful emotions through his words. In this analysis, we will explore the themes, imagery, and symbolism used in the poem to understand its deeper meaning.

The poem begins with a description of the winter landscape, "The sky is dark with snowflakes. / The world is quiet. / The woods are black and silent." The opening lines set the tone for the rest of the poem, creating a sense of stillness and calmness. The use of the word "quiet" emphasizes the absence of noise, and the "black and silent" woods create a sense of emptiness. The snowflakes falling from the sky add to the peaceful atmosphere, creating a sense of purity and innocence.

As the poem progresses, Aiken introduces the theme of light, "But suddenly a light appears / And all the world is changed." The sudden appearance of light is a metaphor for hope and optimism. The light represents a new beginning, a chance to start over and leave the darkness behind. The use of the word "changed" emphasizes the transformative power of light, suggesting that it has the ability to alter our perception of the world.

The imagery used in the poem is vivid and evocative, creating a sense of wonder and awe. Aiken describes the snowflakes as "white and soft and slow," creating a sense of delicacy and fragility. The use of the word "soft" emphasizes the gentle nature of the snowflakes, while the word "slow" suggests a sense of calmness and tranquility. The snowflakes are also described as "falling like feathers," creating a sense of lightness and grace.

The use of symbolism in the poem is also significant. The snowflakes represent purity and innocence, while the light represents hope and optimism. The contrast between the darkness and the light is a metaphor for the struggle between good and evil. The darkness represents the negative aspects of life, while the light represents the positive aspects. The snowflakes falling from the sky represent the beauty of nature, while the light represents the beauty of the human spirit.

The final stanza of the poem is particularly powerful, "And in the light the snowflakes dance / Like children in a fairy tale." The use of the word "dance" creates a sense of joy and happiness, suggesting that the light has brought a sense of playfulness to the winter landscape. The snowflakes are described as "children in a fairy tale," emphasizing their innocence and purity. The use of the word "fairy tale" suggests that the scene is magical and otherworldly, creating a sense of wonder and awe.

In conclusion, Improvisations: Light And Snow by Conrad Aiken is a beautiful poem that captures the essence of winter and the beauty of nature. The poem is a perfect example of Aiken's mastery of language and his ability to evoke powerful emotions through his words. The themes of light and darkness, the imagery of snowflakes falling from the sky, and the symbolism used throughout the poem all contribute to its deeper meaning. The poem is a reminder of the transformative power of light and the beauty of nature, and it is a testament to the enduring power of poetry to inspire and uplift the human spirit.

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