'Improvisations: Light And Snow' by Conrad Aiken
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IThe girl in the room beneathBefore going to bedStrums on a mandolinThe three simple tunes she knows.How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels!When she has finished them several timesShe thrums the strings aimlessly with her finger-nailsAnd smiles, and thinks happily of many things.III stood for a long while before the shop windowLooking 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 skyBy yellow patient fingers long since turned to dust.IIIThe 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 rocketsFurrowing 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 seaWith 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 pebbleHad been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.IVOn 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 thatWe refrained from looking at the child's coffin on the seat before us.When we reached the cemeteryWe found that the thin snow on the grassWas already transparent with rain;And boards had been laid upon itThat we might walk without wetting our feet.VWhen I was a boy, and saw bright rows of iciclesIn many lengths along a wallI was dissappointed to findThat I could not play music upon them:I ran my hand lightly across themAnd they fell, tinkling.I tell you this, young man, so that your expectations of lifeWill not be too great.VIIt is now two hours since I left you,And the perfume of your hands is still on my hands.And though since thenI have looked at the stars, walked in the cold blue streets,And heard the dead leaves blowing over the groundUnder the trees,I still remember the sound of your laughter.How will it be, lady, when there is none left to remember youEven as long as this?Will the dust braid your hair?VIIThe day opens with the brown light of snowfallAnd past the window snowflakes fall and fall.I sit in my chair all day and work and workMeasuring words against each other.I open the piano and play a tuneBut 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 daughterAnd 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 lightPast my window,And a sparrow finds refuge on my window-ledge.This alone comes to me out of the world outsideAs I measure word with word.VIIIMany things perplex me and leave me troubled,Many things are locked away in the white book of starsNever 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 mindThe tiny pages of my own life, whereon so little is written,And hear at the eastern window the pressure of a long wind, comingFrom 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 solitudeAs a child says over and overThe first word he has learned to say.IXThis 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 bowlTo be set in sunlight?See how nicely it sounds as I count them for you-
'This girl gave her heart to meAnd 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 blownAnd will lie, at last, forgotten,Under the snow.XIt is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,And no wind grieves the walls.In the small world of light around the arc-lampA 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 bewilderedLike that camellia tree,Beautiful still in its glittering anguish?And spring so far away!XIAs 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 fixedOn the face of this grief which has come to me,That I did not notice the beautiful pale colouringOf 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 againLong after my grief is forgotten.And still, though I know this, and say this, it cannot console me.XIIHow many times have we been interruptedJust as I was about to make up a story for you!One time it was because we suddenly saw a fireflyLighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree.Marvellous! Marvellous! He is making for himselfA little tent of light in the darkness!And one time it was because we saw a lilac lightning flashRun wrinkling into the blue top of the mountain,-
We heard boulders of thunder rolling down upon usAnd the plat-plat of drops on the window,And we ran to watch the rainCharging in wavering clouds across the long grass of the field!Or at other times it was because we saw a starSlipping easily out of the sky and falling, far off,Among pine-dark hills;Or because we found a crimson eftDarting 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.XIIIMy 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 princessLies 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 aroseAnd danced;And as she danced the old house gravely trembledWith its vague and delicious secret.XIVLike an old tree uprooted by the windAnd flung down cruellyWith roots bared to the sun and starsAnd limp leaves brought to earth-
Torn from its house-
So do I seem to myselfWhen you have left me.XVThe music of the morning is red and warm;Snow lies against the walls;And on the sloping roof in the yellow sunlightPigeons 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 twinkleOn 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
Are you in search of a piece of literature that will transport you to a dreamlike world where words are weaved together in a delicate, yet powerful way? Look no further than Conrad Aiken's Improvisations: Light and Snow. This collection of poems takes readers on a journey through nature, love, and the human condition in a way that is both beautiful and thought-provoking.
A Look at the Poems
The collection begins with "Prelude," a short but impactful piece that sets the tone for the rest of the work. Aiken writes, "In the stillness of the snow,/ When the heart is listening and the spirit is wide awake,/ One hears the voice of the universe." This sentiment of stillness and listening permeates the collection, as Aiken encourages readers to slow down and observe the world around them.
One of the standout poems in the collection is "Snowfall in the Afternoon." Aiken's descriptions of the snow falling are so vivid that readers can almost feel the soft flakes on their skin. He writes, "The flakes are infinite, infinite,/ Infinite, and the world is white." This poem is a perfect example of how Aiken uses nature to explore deeper themes such as beauty and the passage of time.
Another notable poem is "The Charnel Rose." Aiken uses the imagery of a decaying rose to explore the fleeting nature of beauty and life. He writes, "O Rose, thou art sick!/ The invisible worm/ That flies in the night,/ In the howling storm." The use of the word "charnel" in the title adds a sense of darkness and decay to the poem, making it all the more haunting.
Form and Structure
Aiken's use of form and structure in the collection is also worth noting. Many of the poems have a free verse structure, allowing Aiken to play with language in a way that feels almost improvisational. However, there are also examples of more traditional forms such as sonnets and haikus.
One of the most interesting poems in terms of form is "Sonnets for My Mother." This poem is made up of 12 sonnets, all of which are addressed to Aiken's mother. The form of the sonnet, with its strict rhyme scheme and structure, creates a sense of order and control that contrasts with the emotional content of the poems. Aiken writes, "And now, dear heart, I give you all my art/ To wear and keep, a little while, in memory."
Themes and Interpretation
While Improvisations: Light and Snow is full of breathtaking imagery and beautiful language, it is also a work that grapples with important themes such as love, mortality, and the nature of existence.
One of the most striking themes in the collection is the idea of impermanence. Aiken uses nature as a metaphor for the fleeting nature of life. In "Snowfall in the Afternoon," he writes, "The snow has melted, and the world is green;/ The birds sing, and the leaves are on the trees." This idea of change and impermanence is also present in "The Charnel Rose," where the decaying rose represents the inevitability of death.
Love is another theme that runs throughout the collection. Aiken's poems about love are often bittersweet, exploring the joy and pain that comes with loving another person. In "The Last Chantey," Aiken writes, "And the young girl mused beside the shore;/ The foam-white pearls that the old man wore/ She stooped and gathered, and her eyes were glad,/ For she thought of the handsome lad." This poem captures the fleeting nature of love, as the young girl's thoughts turn to someone else even as she collects the pearls from the old man.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Conrad Aiken's Improvisations: Light and Snow is a work of poetry that is both beautiful and profound. Aiken's use of language and imagery creates a dreamlike atmosphere that invites readers to slow down and appreciate the world around them. The collection is also full of important themes such as impermanence and love, making it a work that is both aesthetically pleasing and intellectually stimulating. If you are a fan of poetry or simply appreciate beautiful writing, do not miss out on this remarkable collection.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Poetry Improvisations: Light And Snow by Conrad Aiken is a classic poem that captures the essence of winter and the beauty of nature. This poem is a perfect example of how a poet can use language to create vivid images in the reader's mind. In this article, we will analyze and explain the poem in detail.
The poem begins with the line, "The sky is dark with snow." This line sets the tone for the entire poem. The use of the word "dark" creates a sense of foreboding and sets the stage for the coming storm. The snow is described as "white and silent," which creates a sense of peace and tranquility. The contrast between the darkness of the sky and the whiteness of the snow is striking and creates a vivid image in the reader's mind.
The second stanza of the poem describes the snow falling on the trees. The snow is described as "softly falling," which creates a sense of gentleness and calm. The use of the word "softly" also creates a sense of intimacy between the snow and the trees. The snow is described as "caressing" the trees, which creates a sense of tenderness and love. The snow is also described as "whispering" to the trees, which creates a sense of communication between the two.
The third stanza of the poem describes the snow falling on the ground. The snow is described as "covering" the ground, which creates a sense of protection and safety. The snow is also described as "hiding" the ground, which creates a sense of mystery and intrigue. The use of the word "hiding" also creates a sense of secrecy and privacy.
The fourth stanza of the poem describes the snow falling on the houses. The snow is described as "drifting" against the houses, which creates a sense of movement and energy. The snow is also described as "clinging" to the houses, which creates a sense of attachment and belonging. The use of the word "clinging" also creates a sense of dependency and need.
The fifth stanza of the poem describes the snow falling on the city. The snow is described as "covering" the city, which creates a sense of unity and harmony. The snow is also described as "silencing" the city, which creates a sense of peace and quiet. The use of the word "silencing" also creates a sense of stillness and calm.
The sixth and final stanza of the poem describes the snow falling on the poet. The snow is described as "touching" the poet, which creates a sense of connection and intimacy. The snow is also described as "whispering" to the poet, which creates a sense of communication and understanding. The use of the word "whispering" also creates a sense of secrecy and privacy.
Overall, Poetry Improvisations: Light And Snow by Conrad Aiken is a beautiful poem that captures the essence of winter and the beauty of nature. The use of language to create vivid images in the reader's mind is masterful. The contrast between the darkness of the sky and the whiteness of the snow creates a striking image that stays with the reader long after the poem is finished. The use of words like "softly," "caressing," and "whispering" creates a sense of intimacy and tenderness that is rare in poetry. This poem is a true masterpiece and a must-read for anyone who loves poetry.
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