New feet within my garden go,
New fingers stir the sod;
A troubadour upon the elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green,
New weary sleep below;
And still the pensive spring returns,
And still the punctual snow!
The imagery of this poem is nice and pretty and comforting.
Earth renews itself.
I really like this poem.
-Georgia F
Georgia! Good choice! I considered doing Dickinson this term, but she lost out (just barely) to ee cummings. I love her work, though. I studied her for my VCE.
ReplyDeleteHer use of repetition is effective as always. I particularly enjoy how she conveys her perpetual surprise at the 'punctual' changing of the seasons. There's something slightly melancholic going on, too, I think. There is constant and 'punctual' renewal, but always in the same way. It is slightly sad when viewed in the context of how Dickinson spent much of her time (looking out on the world from her room...rarely venturing far). She sees the world renew itself the same way every year...the implication is, perhaps, that it is she who is ageing and unable to renew herself.
A lovely choice. Maybe a bit more on what YOU think of the poem? Cheers,
Simon