It's a good question about greenness and grief! Which got me thinking about my favourite bit of the poem: 'the unresting castles'. I wonder if this is one of Larkin's furtive recollections of once having enjoyed some French Symbolist poetry -- specifically, the poetic 'grief' of Rimbaud's 'O saisons, ô châteaux' (which is also about 'something almost being said').
"There is something obviously, wonderfully daring about that last line. Either it works, or it’s one of the sickliest things ever put on paper. Mostly, readers think it works." I am definitely one of the readers who thinks it works: I think the repeated "esh" sound is the greatest onomatopoeia of all time.
I always found it funny that Larkin (and some others) found this poem too sentimental or mawkish. Yes, there are some very pretty lines and very pretty images, but the fear of death still permeates everything: the greeness of the trees reminds us we're going to die, though actually the trees are going to die too, and in fact everything and everyone is going to die.
Yes it's very hard to read the whole thing as sentimental isn't it... as for 'afresh'... I avoided giving my own opinion, didn't I. I used to think it was silly. Now I find it uncanny. I don't like or dislike it, I'm creeped out by it...
Still on that last verse, for me the verb “thresh” stands out (bit of a tongue twister that line). As you say, there’s a not so hidden violence and pain here, there is threshing corn (Keats, To Autumn?), even maybe an echo of thrash if that’s not going too far. A critic (Christopher Ricks? Even Frost?) once said it’s all in the verbs.
It's a good question about greenness and grief! Which got me thinking about my favourite bit of the poem: 'the unresting castles'. I wonder if this is one of Larkin's furtive recollections of once having enjoyed some French Symbolist poetry -- specifically, the poetic 'grief' of Rimbaud's 'O saisons, ô châteaux' (which is also about 'something almost being said').
YES, exactly, so much IMM:AHH in here.
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
If you make it anaphora here, you get Tennyson:
Their recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
This repeats in the poem time and again:
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow;
Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now,
And how my life had droop’d of late,
And he should sorrow o’er my state
etc. And anyhow, the idea of being 'almost said' is the keynote of Tennyson's grief:
"Could I have said while he was here" -- etc.
Great piece, Jem. Frost seems to have had similar sentiments on the griefs of spring.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
This is great. I enjoyed following you think through the poem with this sort of openness and curiosity.
Thanks Derek. Funny thing is I’ve never really liked it: in a way this is me trying to work out why.
"There is something obviously, wonderfully daring about that last line. Either it works, or it’s one of the sickliest things ever put on paper. Mostly, readers think it works." I am definitely one of the readers who thinks it works: I think the repeated "esh" sound is the greatest onomatopoeia of all time.
I always found it funny that Larkin (and some others) found this poem too sentimental or mawkish. Yes, there are some very pretty lines and very pretty images, but the fear of death still permeates everything: the greeness of the trees reminds us we're going to die, though actually the trees are going to die too, and in fact everything and everyone is going to die.
The bleak is never far in a Larkin poem, ha.
Yes it's very hard to read the whole thing as sentimental isn't it... as for 'afresh'... I avoided giving my own opinion, didn't I. I used to think it was silly. Now I find it uncanny. I don't like or dislike it, I'm creeped out by it...
Great analysis. Possibly the grief is because "The year is dead, they seem to say."
Love the poem and really enjoyed your analysis of and thoughts about it 🍃
Still on that last verse, for me the verb “thresh” stands out (bit of a tongue twister that line). As you say, there’s a not so hidden violence and pain here, there is threshing corn (Keats, To Autumn?), even maybe an echo of thrash if that’s not going too far. A critic (Christopher Ricks? Even Frost?) once said it’s all in the verbs.