'The House Of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema' by Conrad Aiken

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The House of Dust1917As evening falls,
The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls
Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving,
Moving like music, secret and rich and warm.
How shall we live to-night, where shall we turn?
To what new light or darkness yearn?
A thousand winding stairs lead down before us;
And one by one in myriads we descend
By lamplit flowered walls, long balustrades,
Through half-lit halls which reach no end. . . .Take my arm, then, you or you or you,
And let us walk abroad on the solid air:
Look how the organist's head, in silhouette,
Leans to the lamplit music's orange square! . . .
The dim-globed lamps illumine rows of faces,
Rows of hands and arms and hungry eyes,
They have hurried down from a myriad secret places,
From windy chambers next to the skies. . . .
The music comes upon us. . . .it shakes the darkness,
It shakes the darkness in our minds. . . .
And brilliant figures suddenly fill the darkness,
Down the white shaft of light they run through darkness,
And in our hearts a dazzling dream unwinds . . .Take my hand, then, walk with me
By the slow soundless crashings of a sea
Down miles on miles of glistening mirrorlike sand,-
Take my hand
And walk with me once more by crumbling walls;
Up mouldering stairs where grey-stemmed ivy clings,
To hear forgotten bells, as evening falls,
Rippling above us invisibly their slowly widening rings. . . .
Did you once love me?Did you bear a name?
Did you once stand before me without shame? . . .
Take my hand: your face is one I know,
I loved you, long ago:
You are like music, long forgotten, suddenly come to mind;
You are like spring returned through snow.
Once, I know, I walked with you in starlight,
And many nights I slept and dreamed of you;
Come, let us climb once more these stairs of starlight,
This midnight stream of cloud-flung blue! . . .
Music murmurs beneath us like a sea,
And faints to a ghostly whisper . . . Come with me.Are you still doubtful of me-hesitant still,
Fearful, perhaps, that I may yet remember
What you would gladly, if you could, forget?
You were unfaithful once, you met your lover;
Still in your heart you bear that red-eyed ember;
And I was silent,-you remember my silence yet . . .
You knew, as well as I, I could not kill him,
Nor touch him with hot hands, nor yet with hate.
No, and it was not you I saw with anger.
Instead, I rose and beat at steel-walled fate,
Cried till I lay exhausted, sick, unfriended,
That life, so seeming sure, and love, so certain,
Should loose such tricks, be so abruptly ended,
Ring down so suddenly an unlooked-for curtain.How could I find it in my heart to hurt you,
You, whom this love could hurt much more than I?
No, you were pitiful, and I gave you pity;
And only hated you when I saw you cry.
We were two dupes; if I could give forgiveness,-
Had I the right,-I should forgive you now . . .
We were two dupes . . . Come, let us walk in starlight,
And feed our griefs: we do not break, but bow.Take my hand, then, come with me
By the white shadowy crashings of a sea . . .
Look how the long volutes of foam unfold
To spread their mottled shimmer along the sand! . . .
Take my hand,
Do not remember how these depths are cold,
Nor how, when you are dead,
Green leagues of sea will glimmer above your head.
You lean your face upon your hands and cry,
The blown sand whispers about your feet,
Terrible seems it now to die,-
Terrible now, with life so incomplete,
To turn away from the balconies and the music,
The sunlit afternoons,
To hear behind you there a far-off laughter
Lost in a stirring of sand among dry dunes . . .
Die not sadly, you whom life has beaten!
Lift your face up, laughing, die like a queen!
Take cold flowers of foam in your warm white fingers!
Death's but a change of sky from blue to green . . .As evening falls,
The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls
Tremble and glow . . . the music breathes upon us,
The rayed white shaft plays over our heads like magic,
And to and fro we move and lean and change . . .
You, in a world grown strange,
Laugh at a darkness, clench your hands despairing,
Smash your glass on a floor, no longer caring,
Sink suddenly down and cry . . .
You hear the applause that greets your latest rival,
You are forgotten: your rival-who knows?-is I . . .
I laugh in the warm bright light of answering laughter,
I am inspired and young . . . and though I see
You sitting alone there, dark, with shut eyes crying,
I bask in the light, and in your hate of me . . .
Failure . . . well, the time comes soon or later . . .
The night must come . . . and I'll be one who clings,
Desperately, to hold the applause, one instant,-
To keep some youngster waiting in the wings.The music changes tone . . . a room is darkened,
Someone is moving . . . the crack of white light widens,
And all is dark again; till suddenly falls
A wandering disk of light on floor and walls,
Winks out, returns again, climbs and descends,
Gleams on a clock, a glass, shrinks back to darkness;
And then at last, in the chaos of that place,
Dazzles like frozen fire on your clear face.
Well, I have found you.We have met at last.
Now you shall not escape me: in your eyes
I see the horrible huddlings of your past,-
All you remember blackens, utters cries,
Reaches far hands and faint.I hold the light
Close to your cheek, watch the pained pupils shrink,-
Watch the vile ghosts of all you vilely think . . .
Now all the hatreds of my life have met
To hold high carnival . . . we do not speak,
My fingers find the well-loved throat they seek,
And press, and fling you down . . . and then forget.Who plays for me?What sudden drums keep time
To the ecstatic rhythm of my crime?
What flute shrills out as moonlight strikes the floor? . .
What violin so faintly cries
Seeing how strangely in the moon he lies? . . .
The room grows dark once more,
The crack of white light narrows around the door,
And all is silent, except a slow complaining
Of flutes and violins, like music waning.Take my hand, then, walk with me
By the slow soundless crashings of a sea . . .
Look, how white these shells are, on this sand!
Take my hand,
And watch the waves run inward from the sky
Line upon foaming line to plunge and die.
The music that bound our lives is lost behind us,
Paltry it seems . . . here in this wind-swung place
Motionless under the sky's vast vault of azure
We stand in a terror of beauty, face to face.
The dry grass creaks in the wind, the blown sand whispers,The soft sand seethes on the dunes, the clear grains glisten,
Once they were rock . . . a chaos of golden boulders . . .
Now they are blown by the wind . . . we stand and listen
To the sliding of grain upon timeless grain
And feel our lives go past like a whisper of pain.
Have I not seen you, have we not met before
Here on this sun-and-sea-wrecked shore?
You shade your sea-gray eyes with a sunlit hand
And peer at me . . . far sea-gulls, in your eyes,
Flash in the sun, go down . . . I hear slow sand,
And shrink to nothing beneath blue brilliant skies . . .*****The music ends.The screen grows dark.We hurry
To go our devious secret ways, forgetting
Those many lives . . .We loved, we laughed, we killed,
We danced in fire, we drowned in a whirl of sea-waves.
The flutes are stilled, and a thousand dreams are stilled.Whose body have I found beside dark waters,
The cold white body, garlanded with sea-weed?
Staring with wide eyes at the sky?
I bent my head above it, and cried in silence.
Only the things I dreamed of heard my cry.Once I loved, and she I loved was darkened.
Again I loved, and love itself was darkened.
Vainly we follow the circle of shadowy days.
The screen at last grows dark, the flutes are silent.
The doors of night are closed.We go our ways.

Editor 1 Interpretation

The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema by Conrad Aiken

Have you ever watched a movie and felt like you were transported to another world? A world where the lines between reality and fantasy blur, and you are left questioning what is real and what is not? Conrad Aiken's "The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema" does just that.

At first glance, the poem appears to be a simple description of a cinema. However, upon closer inspection, one can see that it is much more than that. Aiken uses vivid imagery and sensory details to create a dreamlike atmosphere that blurs the lines between fantasy and reality.

The poem begins with the speaker describing the cinema itself. He describes it as a "great bronze building," with "marmoreal splendours" and "massive pillars." The use of these grandiose words creates an image of opulence and grandeur, setting the stage for the magical experience that is to come.

As the speaker enters the cinema, he is transported to another world. The "dim-lit cavern" that he enters is described as being "full of wizardries and wonders." The use of alliteration in this line creates a sense of magic and mystery, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere.

As the movie begins, the speaker becomes lost in the story. He describes the scenes as being "enormous," with "thundering hooves" and "flashing swords." The use of sensory details in this description creates a vivid image in the reader's mind, making them feel as though they too are watching the movie.

However, as the movie continues, the line between reality and fantasy begins to blur. The speaker describes the characters as being "more real than life," and the scenes as being "more vivid than reality." This creates a sense of unease in the reader, as they begin to question what is real and what is not.

The speaker's emotions also begin to change as the movie continues. He goes from being "spellbound" to being "frightened." This change in emotion adds to the dreamlike atmosphere created by Aiken, as the reader is unsure of what is going to happen next.

As the movie reaches its climax, the speaker is consumed by fear. He describes the scenes as being "terrifying," with "writhing forms" and "ghastly shapes." The use of these grotesque images creates a sense of horror in the reader, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere created by Aiken.

However, as the movie ends, the speaker is once again transported back to reality. He describes the cinema as being "empty," with "flickering lights" and "ghostly echoes." The use of these haunting words creates a sense of emptiness and loss, as the speaker is left alone with his thoughts.

So what does this all mean? Aiken's "The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema" is a commentary on the power of cinema to transport us to another world. It shows how movies can blur the lines between reality and fantasy, and how they can affect us emotionally.

The poem also raises questions about the nature of reality. Is the world we see on the screen more real than the world around us? Is it possible for us to become so lost in a movie that we forget what is real and what is not?

Overall, Aiken's "The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema" is a masterful exploration of the power of cinema to transport us to another world. It is a haunting and thought-provoking poem that will stay with you long after you have finished reading it.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema - A Masterpiece of Poetry

Conrad Aiken's The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema is a masterpiece of poetry that captures the essence of the early 20th century. The poem is a vivid portrayal of the world of cinema, which was rapidly gaining popularity during that time. Aiken's use of imagery, symbolism, and metaphor creates a powerful and evocative piece that transports the reader to a world of glamour, fantasy, and illusion.

The poem begins with a description of the cinema, which is portrayed as a magical place where dreams come true. Aiken writes, "The flicker of the film / Is like a dream / And all the world is like a dream / Within the silver screen." This opening stanza sets the tone for the rest of the poem, which is filled with images of fantasy and illusion.

Aiken's use of metaphor is particularly effective in this poem. He compares the cinema to a "temple of dreams," which suggests that it is a sacred place where people go to escape from reality. The cinema is also compared to a "magic lantern," which emphasizes the idea that it is a place of enchantment and wonder.

The poem also explores the idea of the cinema as a place of transformation. Aiken writes, "The screen is like a mirror / That shows us what we are / And what we might become." This idea of the cinema as a mirror is a powerful one, as it suggests that the films we watch can have a profound impact on our lives and our sense of self.

Aiken's use of imagery is also noteworthy. He describes the cinema as a place of "flashing lights" and "dazzling colors," which creates a sense of excitement and energy. The images of "stars" and "celebrities" further emphasize the glamour and allure of the cinema.

The poem also explores the darker side of the cinema. Aiken writes, "The screen is like a mask / That hides the truth from view." This line suggests that the cinema can be a place of deception and illusion, where things are not always as they seem. The poem also touches on the idea of addiction, with the line "We cannot leave the temple / Until the spell is done."

Overall, The House of Dust: Part 04: 06: Cinema is a powerful and evocative poem that captures the essence of the early 20th century. Aiken's use of imagery, metaphor, and symbolism creates a vivid and compelling portrait of the world of cinema. The poem is a testament to the power of art to transport us to other worlds and to transform our lives.

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