"Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood

Siren Song

BY MARGARET ATWOOD

This is the one song everyone

would like to learn: the song

that is irresistible:

the song that forces men

to leap overboard in squadrons

even though they see the beached skulls

the song nobody knows

because anyone who has heard it

is dead, and the others can't remember.

Shall I tell you the secret

and if I do, will you get me

out of this bird suit?

I don't enjoy it here

squatting on this island

looking picturesque and mythical

with these two feathery maniacs,

I don't enjoy singing

this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell the secret to you,

to you, only to you.

Come closer. This song

is a cry for help: Help me!

Only you, only you can,

you are unique

at last. Alas

it is a boring song

but it works every time.

I chose “Siren Song” by Margaret Atwood, not only because of the tough shifts in tone, but also because of the allusion to Greek mythology—which, if you’ve met me, you know I LOVE Greek mythology. The Sirens were bird women who sat on an island in the Aegean Sea and sang such alluring songs to the passing sailors that they jumped overboard and drowned. On his way back to Ithaca from Troy, Odysseus passed the Siren island. Instead of plugging his ears with wax to block out the song like the rest of his sailors did, Odysseus insisted that he be tied to the mast so he could hear the Siren song, the most beautiful song in the world, and live. He was the only Greek, hero or otherwise, to have survived the song. This myth isn’t brought up in the poem, since Atwood writes what she imagined the actual song to be like. This Siren’s biggest draw was the clandestine nature of the song, the fact that she would tell the secret to any sailor who tried to save her. Clearly, that doesn’t happen.

I find this poem challenging because of the several emotional shifts, some of which are hard to see at a quick glance. The first, and I think the most important, shift occurs when the Siren moves into first person: “Shall I tell you the secret”. This is when she really starts to spin her song and draw in the helpless sailors who hear it. It becomes much more personal, which contrasts with the sense of detachment show in the last three lines of the poem. The first three stanzas center around the song itself, giving warnings and information about it. Then, when the shift to first person happens, the Siren causes the reader (or the sailor) to sympathize with her, since she wants to escape the island that she sits on and share the secret of the song with anyone who saves her. Then, the sailor drowns and the Siren breaks her song that “works every time”.

Life lesson: don’t sail in the Aegean without earplugs.

Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

Admit impediments. Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove. 

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wand'ring bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come; 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 

If this be error and upon me prov'd, 

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

I was drawn to this poem primarily because it is a Shakespearean sonnet, and as a thespian, I sure do love some Shakespeare. As I read the sonnet, I found myself having to re-read lines to make sure I absorbed their meaning. A Shakespearean sonnet is 14 lines, usually with some sort of meter like iambic pentameter or tetrameter with a rhyming couplet at the sonnet's close. In this poem, Shakespeare adheres to iambic pentameter in which there are five feet or ten syllables per line with an emphasis on every other syllable. Also, in the first twelve lines, every other line rhymes.

The line "Love is not love/ Which alters when it alteration finds" stumped me at first due to the repetition of the word alters, so I had to read the line a few times before it sank in. Shakespeare's use of 'alter' twice creates a nice alliteration and also creates a twist in the line that seems confusing but makes sense if you look deeper. He is trying to tell us that true love does not judge or try to change- true love sticks around and remains steadfast even when the world around us shifts and evolves.

Another part of the poem that caught my eye was "It is the star to every wandering bark.” The denotation of "star" is a burning ball of gas millions of miles away from where we sit on earth, while the connotation of "star" is quite different. For most people, the star is a symbol of hope, probably due to the popularity of the story of the birth of Christ in which Magi and shepherds follow the bright star to the spot where the newborn baby Jesus was laying. Stars were the guiding light both both emotionally and physically. With the star reference, Shakespeare is comparing love to hope and the promise of being new again- of finding our own bliss.

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

By William Butler Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above;

Those that I fight I do not hate,

Those that I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross,

My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,

No likely end could bring them loss

Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,

A lonely impulse of delight

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

A waste of breath the years behind

In balance with this life, this death.

In last year’s English class, we briefly skimmed over a poem titled “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death” by W.B. Yeats. I remember discussing it for a few short moments, and then moving on to another topic. It stayed with me, though, and now I am getting the chance to look more deeply into its meaning.

One of the first emotions I felt while reading this poem was confusion. Who is this Irish Airman, and why is he risking his life for a cause he has no emotional connection to? The Airman states that he does not love those he fights for, and that he does not hate those he fights against. He later mentions that the war will have no effect on the people of his home in Kiltartan Cross.  After looking into where and what exactly Kiltartan Cross is, I discovered that it is a small barony in Ireland. This is especially strange considering the Airman refers to Kiltartan as his country, which signifies that he has little nationalism for Ireland as a whole. Both this anaphora and the “lonely impulse of delight” he describes in the poem are enough to let us assume that he is fighting for himself and not for others.

We are then called to question what this lonely impulse of delight is, and why it is such a motivating factor that it compels the Airman to meet his fate. The answer to this can be found in the final quatrain of the poem. The Airman emphasizes the detachment he feels from his life by stating that his past was nothing but a waste of breath, as will be the future. He desires a sense of accomplishment that he can only conjure from within, and in his mind the only way to achieve this is to put his life in death's hands. In this way, we are left with conflicting emotions, viewing his situation as both tragic and heroic. 

"The heart asks pleasure first" by Emily Dickinson

THE HEART asks pleasure first, 

And then, excuse from pain;

And then, those little anodynes

That deaden suffering;

And then, if to go to sleep; 

And then, if it should be 

The will of its Inquisitor, 

The liberty to die.  

Although relatively short and a mere two stanzas in length, Emily Dickinson’s “The heart asks pleasure first” presents the reader with a complex web of contradiction and repetition. Dickinson employs repetition by using anaphora with the following phrase: “And then.” Because the poem seems fairly general at first glance, Dickinson welcomes conjectures of all kinds regarding meaning. The poem challenges me with its rapid, unexpected twists and turns from a seemingly innocent request to a dramatic end. In just eight lines, Dickinson is able to take a snapshot of life as we all know it…from the joyful dawn to its anticipated denouement. The trenchant divisions between life and death and freedom and captivity further explain the complexity of the poem. From the first line, the reader is introduced to a passionate speaker who takes matters of the heart with heavy understanding.

Seeing that the first two words stand alone in all caps, it is evident that the speaker follows her heart as opposed to her head. Since our speaker asks of the heart, the reader is likely to believe that this human being read about is controlled by some higher power or rather the heart is simply lower in position to the speaker’s conscience. Our speaker asks pleasure first signaling that she is in an inferior position with little to no right to demand something of another. It is likely that the speaker is a woman describing her inferiority to the male species.

Throughout the poem, the list of requests–with no trace of hidden demands–grows more and more disturbing until the final, liberating end. The poem’s drama increases as the poem continues. First, the speaker simply asks for pleasure and then excuse from pain; however, the final request of the speaker is that of death. As the speaker’s requests seep into each line of the poem, she is enveloped in the pain she has previously asked for and dares not to ask for freedom from such pain. She does indeed ask for an excuse or rather something to deaden her increasing suffering.

Circling back to the possibility of the speaker as being a woman making these requests of her partner, it could be that the speaker is numbed by such a love. She would rather be in pain and able to remain at the side of her lover than to experience a life free of pain without him. The Inquisitor can be interpreted as the speaker’s puppeteer–perhaps a façade of her lover. Tragically, she has given herself to such an Inquisitor and has left her fate in his greedy hands.

But still, her most treasured wish is to die. Dickinson’s choice to describe death as a liberty further proves the pain that is suffocating the speaker. In a strange, somewhat disjointed way, the poem both begins and ends with the heart. First, the heart asks pleasure, and finally, the heart ceases to beat rhythmically as death draws near.   

A moment, a word, or a turn in the poem that might be overlooked by a cursory reader is Dickinson’s use of the word “if” in the second line of the second stanza. The word “if” is conditional and is based on what the speaker’s lover–in this case–is willing to do for the speaker. If allows leeway. If the lover is so willing to free his significant other from a pain so deep, then so be it. If holds the fate of the speaker–whether it is merciful or cruel.

Days by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Days

Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803 - 1882

Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all.
I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

As I searched long and hard through countless poems to memorize and enjoy, this one immediately caught my eye. What a simple title, and how many possible ideas it could lead to. So, I clicked on it and I read. Then I read it again. It took several readings, but I each time I understood something more about the poem that resonated with me.

I love how the poem personifies days. This poem uses similes and metaphors to liken Days to poor peasants, bringing and offering wonderful gifts to the narrator. Emerson paints a vivid image of the personified Days lumbering through the narrator's, possibly Emerson's, garden, carrying great offerings, while he sits back and watches. Instead of seizing these offerings, the narrator instead just takes "a few herbs and apples" -- normal, everyday items. And before he knows it, the Day has gone and the narrator sees too late his regret for not seizing it. I found this poem challenging not only with its vocabulary (I had to look up words such as "dervishes," diadems," "fagots," "pleached," "pomp," and "fillet") but also in its understanding as well. I immediately caught on to its personification, but the more I read, the more I saw the imagery detailed. Also, the last time I read it, I looked for any kind of meter, and noticed there is iambic pentameter in it, although it was hard to read because sometimes the stressing of the syllable does not fall where it should be.

I think a in this poem could be at the last two lines. The lines before this all describe the Days and their offerings, all they can bring, one by one "in an endless file." However, the last two lines suddenly stop short, saying how the Days "turned and departed silent." The narrator realizes "too late" that instead he should have seized the day, and feels the "scorn." Once again, day after day, the narrator does the simple action, letting the day pass by without consideration for the greater offerings. 

I love this poem because I can relate to it so much. I know that, at least for myself, too many Saturdays and Sundays I let pass by, and before I know it, it is dinner time and I have accomplished none of my goals, or nothing at all, for the day. I'm glad I stumbled upon this poem because I will always think of it and be encouraged to seize the day. Carpe diem!

In Which Lillie Discusses Lilies

                 In class on Friday, we discussed a variety of tricky literary devices that have the potential to show up on our AP exam.  Highlights from the day include the video masterpieces of our own Catherine Baker and Dasha Didier.  Kuddos to you, ladies.  I’m inspired.

            All this talk about literary devices has made me think back to Age of Innocence.  That novel is jam packed with symbolism, imagery, and foreshadowing.  Thanks, Edith.  You’ve given us so much to think about.

            I was particularly intrigued by the imagery and symbolism of flowers throughout the novel (it might have something to do with my name…).  In Edith Wharton’s day, different varieties of flowers held specific significance, but since I’m not particularly literate in the classical language of flowers, I did a bit of research. 

            The first variety of flowers I investigated was yellow roses (like the ones Archer gives to Ellen).  According to the classical definition, yellow roses symbolize jealousy, infidelity, and adultery.  How interesting.  When buying flowers for Ellen, Archer is immediately drawn to the yellow roses.  Perhaps this intuitive choice reflects Archer’s true feelings.  He is jealous of Beaufort, and he subconsciously wants to pursue an adulterous relationship with Ellen. I see what you’re doing there, Edith.

            Another flower that showed up on several occasions was the lily. While Archer associated the yellow roses with Ellen, the lily imagery was primarily affiliated with May.  In the classical language of flowers, lilies signify virginity, purity, and simplicity; in short, they symbolize society’s ideal woman.  Lilies also represent future happiness.  Keyword here: future.  Although Archer is not satisfied with May in the present tense, he hopes that someday, this safe choice will bring him happiness.

Dare

In class, we discussed "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," a poem that should be none too unfamiliar to those of us who took Mr. Croker's honors English III class last year. While some of us might not have been incredibly keen on revisiting a piece of work that we spent so much time analyzing during our junior year--a year that I'm sure most of us could agree we'd like to forget entirely, I was personally incredibly eager to touch back on it, as I feel like it'll be much more relevant to us all in the coming weeks and months than it was during that grueling 11th grade year.  

In this poem, T.S. Elliot presents the reader with a character who doesn't seem to be quite sure of his place in life, in society, and in the universe. On top of some of the more insignificant issues that J. Alfred Prufrock seems to worry about, such as the way in which he chooses to present himself to the public, Prufrock is constantly confronted with the ever-changing qualities of time. "There will be time, there will be time," he says; 

"Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea." 

Here, Prufrock seems confident in the fact that he has all of the time in the world; later, however, we see that his feelings are much more complex than he initially makes them out to be, as he begins to worry about his growing age and question how he's been spending his time, wondering whether or not it's worth it to do so much as eat a peach. It's obvious that Prufrock is a man who has spent life skirting around the edges, trying his hardest to be unnoticed and unobserved; a mere extra in the film of his own life. He doesn't want to grab the bull by the horns and risk getting impaled; in other words, he fears making the wrong choices. And yet, as he grows older and his time wears thin, he wonders whether he might be wasting it.

As we tread our way through our final year of high school, the looming prospect of applying to and being accepted into college hanging over our heads, I think that we can all find it easy to relate to Prufrock in some way or another, whether we share his doubts, his fears, his insecurities, or his indecision. In the coming days, weeks, months and years, there a number of decisions that we'll need to make, and we can't be exactly sure how any of them will affect our future. What we can know, however, is that time will not wait up for any us. It shouldn't be wasted skirting around the edges of life, carefully choosing each decision we make with the weight of the world on our shoulders.We should dare to take that once in a lifetime trip, or talk to that person we've spent so much time admiring from afar, or even to eat that peach, because as messy as it might be, it could turn out to be the best peach you've ever tasted. 

After all, why worry so much about disturbing the universe? It's not like the universe has ever provided us the same courtesy.