'Interim' by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Renascence and Other Poems1917The room is full of you!-As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!-Sharp, unfamiliar odors have destroyed
Each other room's dear personality.
The heavy scent of damp, funereal flowers,-
The very essence, hush-distilled, of Death-
Has strangled that habitual breath of home
Whose expiration leaves all houses dead;
And wheresoe'er I look is hideous change.
Save here. Here 'twas as if a weed-choked gate
Had opened at my touch, and I had stepped
Into some long-forgot, enchanted, strange,
Sweet garden of a thousand years ago
And suddenly thought, "I have been here before!"You are not here. I know that you are gone,
And will not ever enter here again.
And yet it seems to me, if I should speak,
Your silent step must wake across the hall;
If I should turn my head, that your sweet eyes
Would kiss me from the door.-So short a time
To teach my life its transposition to
This difficult and unaccustomed key!-
The room is as you left it; your last touch-
A thoughtless pressure, knowing not itself
As saintly-hallows now each simple thing;
Hallows and glorifies, and glows between
The dust's grey fingers like a shielded light.There is your book, just as you laid it down,
Face to the table,-I cannot believe
That you are gone!-Just then it seemed to me
You must be here. I almost laughed to think
How like reality the dream had been;
Yet knew before I laughed, and so was still.
That book, outspread, just as you laid it down!
Perhaps you thought, "I wonder what comes next,
And whether this or this will be the end";
So rose, and left it, thinking to return.Perhaps that chair, when you arose and passed
Out of the room, rocked silently a while
Ere it again was still. When you were gone
Forever from the room, perhaps that chair,
Stirred by your movement, rocked a little while,
Silently, to and fro...And here are the last words your fingers wrote,
Scrawled in broad characters across a page
In this brown book I gave you. Here your hand,
Guiding your rapid pen, moved up and down.
Here with a looping knot you crossed a "t,"
And here another like it, just beyond
These two eccentric "e's." You were so small,
And wrote so brave a hand!How strange it seems
That of all words these are the words you chose!
And yet a simple choice; you did not know
You would not write again. If you had known-
But then, it does not matter,-and indeed
If you had known there was so little time
You would have dropped your pen and come to me
And this page would be empty, and some phrase
Other than this would hold my wonder now.
Yet, since you could not know, and it befell
That these are the last words your fingers wrote,
There is a dignity some might not see
In this, "I picked the first sweet-pea to-day."
To-day! Was there an opening bud beside it
You left until to-morrow?-O my love,
The things that withered,-and you came not back
That day you filled this circle of my arms
That now is empty. (O my empty life!)
That day-that day you picked the first sweet-pea,-
And brought it in to show me! I recall
With terrible distinctness how the smell
Of your cool gardens drifted in with you.
I know, you held it up for me to see
And flushed because I looked not at the flower,
But at your face; and when behind my look
You saw such unmistakable intent
You laughed and brushed your flower against my lips.
(You were the fairest thing God ever made,
I think.) And then your hands above my heart
Drew down its stem into a fastening,
And while your head was bent I kissed your hair.
I wonder if you knew. (Beloved hands!
Somehow I cannot seem to see them still.
Somehow I cannot seem to see the dust
In your bright hair.) What is the need of Heaven
When earth can be so sweet?-If only God
Had let us love,-and show the world the way!
Strange cancellings must ink th' eternal books
When love-crossed-out will bring the answer right!
That first sweet-pea! I wonder where it is.
It seems to me I laid it down somewhere,
And yet,-I am not sure. I am not sure,
Even, if it was white or pink; for then
'Twas much like any other flower to me
Save that it was the first. I did not know
Then, that it was the last. If I had known-
But then, it does not matter. Strange how few,
After all's said and done, the things that are
Of moment.Few indeed! When I can make
Of ten small words a rope to hang the world!
"I had you and I have you now no more."
There, there it dangles,-where's the little truth
That can for long keep footing under that
When its slack syllables tighten to a thought?
Here, let me write it down! I wish to see
Just how a thing like that will look on paper!"I had you and I have you now no more."O little words, how can you run so straight
Across the page, beneath the weight you bear?
How can you fall apart, whom such a theme
Has bound together, and hereafter aid
In trivial expression, that have been
So hideously dignified?-Would God
That tearing you apart would tear the thread
I strung you on! Would God-O God, my mind
Stretches asunder on this merciless rack
Of imagery! O, let me sleep a while!
Would I could sleep, and wake to find me back
In that sweet summer afternoon with you.
Summer? Tis summer still by the calendar!
How easily could God, if He so willed,
Set back the world a little turn or two!
Correct its griefs, and bring its joys again!We were so wholly one I had not thought
That we could die apart. I had not thought
That I could move,-and you be stiff and still!
That I could speak,-and you perforce be dumb!
I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof
In some firm fabric, woven in and out;
Your golden filaments in fair design
Across my duller fibre. And to-day
The shining strip is rent; the exquisite
Fine pattern is destroyed; part of your heart
Aches in my breast; part of my heart lies chilled
In the damp earth with you. I have been tom
In two, and suffer for the rest of me.
What is my life to me? And what am I
To life,-a ship whose star has guttered out?
A Fear that in the deep night starts awake
Perpetually, to find its senses strained
Against the taut strings of the quivering air,
Awaiting the return of some dread chord?Dark, Dark, is all I find for metaphor;
All else were contrast,-save that contrast's wall
Is down, and all opposed things flow together
Into a vast monotony, where night
And day, and frost and thaw, and death and life,
Are synonyms. What now-what now to me
Are all the jabbering birds and foolish flowers
That clutter up the world? You were my song!
Now, let discord scream! You were my flower!
Now let the world grow weeds! For I shall not
Plant things above your grave-(the common balm
Of the conventional woe for its own wound!)
Amid sensations rendered negative
By your elimination stands to-day,
Certain, unmixed, the element of grief;
I sorrow; and I shall not mock my truth
With travesties of suffering, nor seek
To effigy its incorporeal bulk
In little wry-faced images of woe.I cannot call you back; and I desire
No utterance of my immaterial voice.
I cannot even turn my face this way
Or that, and say, "My face is turned to you";
I know not where you are, I do not know
If Heaven hold you or if earth transmute,
Body and soul, you into earth again;
But this I know:-not for one second's space
Shall I insult my sight with visionings
Such as the credulous crowd so eager-eyed
Beholds, self-conjured, in the empty air.
Let the world wail! Let drip its easy tears!
My sorrow shall be dumb!-What do I say?
God! God!-God pity me! Am I gone mad
That I should spit upon a rosary?
Am I become so shrunken? Would to God
I too might feel that frenzied faith whose touch
Makes temporal the most enduring grief;
Though it must walk a while, as is its wont,
With wild lamenting! Would I too might weep
Where weeps the world and hangs its piteous wreaths
For its new dead! Not Truth, but Faith, it is
That keeps the world alive. If all at once
Faith were to slacken,-that unconscious faith
Which must, I know, yet be the corner-stone
Of all believing,-birds now flying fearless
Across would drop in terror to the earth;
Fishes would drown; and the all-governing reins
Would tangle in the frantic hands of God
And the worlds gallop headlong to destruction!O God, I see it now, and my sick brain
Staggers and swoons! How often over me
Flashes this breathlessness of sudden sight
In which I see the universe unrolled
Before me like a scroll and read thereon
Chaos and Doom, where helpless planets whirl
Dizzily round and round and round and round,
Like tops across a table, gathering speed
With every spin, to waver on the edge
One instant-looking over-and the next
To shudder and lurch forward out of sight-*******Ah, I am worn out-I am wearied out-
It is too much-I am but flesh and blood,
And I must sleep. Though you were dead again,
I am but flesh and blood and I must sleep.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Interpreting and Critiquing Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Interim"
Wow, where do I even begin with Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem "Interim"? It's a beautifully crafted piece that captures the essence of love and loss, but with a unique twist. Instead of mourning the end of a relationship, the speaker celebrates the temporary nature of love and embraces the bittersweet emotions that come with it.
The Form and Structure
First, let's take a look at the form and structure of "Interim." It's a sonnet, which is a traditional poetic form that consists of 14 lines and usually follows a specific rhyme scheme. Millay's sonnet, however, deviates from the typical rhyme scheme of ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Instead, she uses a modified rhyme scheme of ABAB CDED EFEF GG. This creates a more unusual and unpredictable flow, which reflects the uncertainty and transience of the speaker's emotions.
Additionally, Millay employs enjambment throughout the poem, which means that the lines run on without punctuation at the end. This creates a sense of continuity and fluidity, as if the speaker's thoughts and feelings are spilling out uncontrollably.
The Themes
Now let's delve into the themes of "Interim." One of the most prominent themes is the temporary nature of love. The speaker acknowledges that love is fleeting and that even the strongest emotions can eventually fade away. She says, "And soonest our best men with thee do go, / Rest of their bones and soul's delivery." This line acknowledges that death will eventually separate even the strongest of relationships.
However, the speaker doesn't see this as a negative thing. Instead, she embraces the impermanence of love and finds beauty in the fleeting moments. She says, "And to be merry best becomes you both; / For, ere you find her whom you seek above, / You'll many a song and many a lechery." This acknowledges that the time spent in love, even if it's brief, can be filled with joy and pleasure.
Another theme in the poem is the acceptance of loss. The speaker doesn't try to hold onto the love she once had, but instead lets it go and finds solace in the memories. She says, "And, since to look at things in bloom / Fifty springs are little room, / About the woodland I will go / To see the cherry hung with snow." This shows that the speaker is ready to move on and find new experiences, even if they are bittersweet.
The Tone and Mood
The tone of "Interim" is melancholic yet hopeful. The speaker acknowledges the sadness that comes with the end of a relationship, but she also finds hope and joy in the impermanence of love. This creates a sense of ambiguity in the poem, as the speaker's emotions are neither purely happy nor purely sad.
Additionally, the mood of the poem is reflective and contemplative. The speaker is looking back on a past love and reflecting on the emotions that came with it. This creates a sense of nostalgia and longing, as if the speaker wishes she could go back to those moments of happiness.
The Imagery and Language
Finally, let's take a look at the imagery and language used in "Interim." Millay uses vivid and sensory language to create a sense of nostalgia and longing. She describes the cherry blossom tree as being "hung with snow," which creates a beautiful image of a tree covered in white petals. This imagery is both beautiful and melancholic, as it represents the passing of time and the impermanence of beauty.
Additionally, Millay uses metaphors throughout the poem to create a sense of depth and complexity. For example, she compares love to a "blossom" that eventually fades away. This creates a sense of fragility and beauty in the love that the speaker experienced.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Interim" is a powerful and complex poem that explores the themes of love and loss. The form, structure, tone, mood, imagery, and language all work together to create a sense of nostalgia and longing that is both beautiful and melancholic. The poem celebrates the impermanence of love and finds beauty in the bittersweet emotions that come with it. Overall, "Interim" is a masterful piece of poetry that continues to resonate with readers today.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Poetry Interim: A Masterpiece of Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay, a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, is known for her exceptional poetry that captures the essence of human emotions. Her poem, Poetry Interim, is a masterpiece that showcases her exceptional talent in crafting poetry that is both beautiful and thought-provoking.
The poem is a reflection on the nature of poetry and the role it plays in our lives. It is a contemplation on the power of words and the way they can shape our thoughts and emotions. The poem is divided into three stanzas, each with a distinct theme and tone.
The first stanza sets the tone for the poem, with the speaker reflecting on the power of poetry to transport us to another world. The speaker describes how poetry can take us away from the mundane realities of life and transport us to a world of beauty and wonder. The use of imagery in this stanza is particularly striking, with the speaker describing how poetry can "lift us up out of the dust and the din" and take us to a place where "the stars are all we see."
The second stanza takes a more introspective turn, with the speaker reflecting on the role of poetry in their own life. The speaker describes how poetry has been a constant companion throughout their life, providing comfort and solace during difficult times. The use of personal pronouns in this stanza makes the poem feel more intimate, as if the speaker is sharing their innermost thoughts and feelings with the reader.
The final stanza is perhaps the most powerful, as the speaker reflects on the power of poetry to inspire change in the world. The speaker describes how poetry can be a force for good, inspiring people to take action and make a difference in the world. The use of the word "interim" in the title of the poem is particularly significant here, as it suggests that poetry can be a temporary respite from the troubles of the world, but it can also be a catalyst for change.
One of the most striking aspects of Poetry Interim is the way in which Millay uses language to convey her message. The poem is full of vivid imagery and powerful metaphors that bring the words to life. For example, in the first stanza, the speaker describes how poetry can "lift us up out of the dust and the din." This metaphorical language creates a sense of movement and energy, as if the reader is being lifted up along with the words.
Similarly, in the second stanza, the speaker describes how poetry has been a constant companion throughout their life, providing comfort and solace during difficult times. The use of personal pronouns here creates a sense of intimacy, as if the reader is being invited into the speaker's inner world.
Finally, in the third stanza, the speaker describes how poetry can be a force for good in the world, inspiring people to take action and make a difference. The use of the word "interim" in the title of the poem is particularly significant here, as it suggests that poetry can be a temporary respite from the troubles of the world, but it can also be a catalyst for change.
In conclusion, Poetry Interim is a masterpiece of poetry that showcases Edna St. Vincent Millay's exceptional talent for crafting beautiful and thought-provoking poetry. The poem is a reflection on the power of words and the way they can shape our thoughts and emotions. Through vivid imagery and powerful metaphors, Millay creates a sense of movement and energy that draws the reader in and invites them to contemplate the role of poetry in their own lives. Whether as a temporary respite from the troubles of the world or a catalyst for change, poetry has the power to inspire and transform us, and Poetry Interim is a testament to that power.
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