T.Craig

The Lynching -- Claude McKay

His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven. His father, by the cruelest way of pain, Had bidden him to his bosom once again; The awful sin remained still unforgiven. All night a bright and solitary star (Perchance the one that ever guided him, Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim) Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char. Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view The ghastly body swaying in the sun The women thronged to look, but never a one Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue; And little lads, lynchers that were to be, Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.


 * Bio** -- Claude McKay (1889-1948) was born in Jamaica and became a U.S. citizen at the age of 51. His book of poems, //Harlem Shadows//, is widely considered the spark that initiated the fire that was the Harlem Renaissance. He wrote about racial, political, and geographical ideas that delivered powerful messages.


 * Literal Summary** -- This poem is pretty intense, due to it dealing with a very dark and inhumane part of American history: lynching, or hanging someone as a way of killing them. The reader doesn't know what crime the man committed, but it was significant enough to get him hanged and sent up to Heaven. The man was hanged at night and crowds of people came to see his lifeless body hanging in the morning. Women showed no signs of horror or remorse in seeing something so gruesome, letting the reader know it was a common occurrence and almost natural. Young children saw it as a social event to play with their friends and dance around the dead man. The rhyming scheme of the poem is abbacddc throughout most of the poem. The last quatrain is followed by a couplet, making the rhyming scheme effegg for the end of the poem.


 * Ambiguous Parts** -- I found the mention of the hanged man's father to be a little random. I'm not quite sure how his father had "bidden him to his bosom once again." Also, the symbolism associated with the star could be pretty open to different interpretations. We are never really told why the words Spirit and Fate are capitalized.


 * My Interpretation** -- Lynching people is one of the darkest moments in American history, but predominantly in the South. It just goes to show you how far we've come in dealing with racism. I think the North Star is the star that "Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char", giving notion to how runaway slaves used it to guide them toward free country. The imagery of the people coming to watch this atrocious act stuck with me pretty well. I think McKay notes the "steely blue" eye color of the women to play to the idea of white supremacy and the Aryan Brotherhood (blonde hair, blue eyes). I struggled to find an appropriate picture but feel the one I've included fits best due to the small children present or "little lads, lynchers that were to be." It still shocks me that lynchings were social events that people attended regularly.

We Wear the Mask -- Paul Laurence Dunbar We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--- This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be overwise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while We wear the mask.

We smile, but O great Christ, our cries To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise, We wear the mask!


 * Bio** -- Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906) was one of the first black men to be a professional poet in America. Dunbar sees himself as more of a singer or lyricist than a poet though. He was at one time a clerk for Frederick Douglas. Many of Dunbar's poems involve "colorful" black dialect and subject matter, for which he was criticized for by some of his contemporaries.


 * Literal Summary** -- The narrator describes people wearing a mask that both "grins and lies". This meaning it is a multi-purpose mask that people have to use in different situations in their lives. People with broken and bleeding hearts are able to wear the mask and have it smile for them to hide their true emotional problems. The narrator asks why the world should be able to look at people and notice all that might be going wrong in someone's life. Instead, people choose to wear the mask that is able to conceal all these things with its smile. Although the mask is smiling, the people still call out to Jesus for help and guidance. The final message is that life is hard and long but nobody should be able to tell it from looking at you.


 * Ambiguous Parts** -- I would say that the entire poem is a bit ambiguous. If someone read this poem without knowing anything about the author, it might be read as a poem about people in general who put on masks to hide their true feelings. But knowing a little about the author and time period would allow the reader to read deeper into it as a poem about the struggles of black people in a white world. The rhyming scheme changes from stanza to stanza: aabbc, aabd, aabbad.


 * My Interpretation** -- It took me a couple times reading this poem to truly understand what it was talking about. I originally chose it because I can somewhat identify with wearing a mask in certain situations and hiding your true feelings. But I was even more interested in it once I realized it was talking about the black race and what they had to go through during the racist days of America. I think it's pretty tough to generalize the feelings of an entire race, and me being white, I obviously have no clue what this was like, but I feel like Dunbar really captures it. The last stanza was my favorite due to the subtle hints of religion and singing, both of which are commonly associated with slavery. Also, the clay underneath their feet is probably the floor in a plantation slave shack. I took the final line, with the exclamation point noted, as a rally cry to come and stand together as a unified front behind their masks.

Richard Cory -- Edwin Arlington Robinsonmedia type="youtube" key="euuCiSY0qYs" height="344" width="425" align="right" Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich---yes, richer than a king,--- And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.


 * Bio** -- Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935) was an interesting man who won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry three times. He often wrote about dark, gloomy, off-the-beaten-path subjects that really distinguished his writing style from other poets at the time. One of his brothers became a drug addict and died while his other brother became an alcoholic.


 * Literal Summary** -- This poem centers on the title character, Richard Cory, who is being observed by the "people on the pavement". Cory is said to be a gentleman and always appears clean shaven and fit, traits we as a society usually associate with middle to upper class. Richard Cory took time to talk to the street people and was very cordial in doing so. He was probably good looking, as evidenced by the pulses that were fluttered whenever he said "good-morning" to them. We learn he is indeed very well off and smart. The people were envious of his stature in society. They kept working their daily grind, going without meat and pissed that they only could have bread. Then Richard Cory, who has everything, shoots himself in the head.


 * Ambiguous Parts** -- For the most part I found this poem to be pretty straightforward. "He was a gentleman from sole to crown" clues the reader in early that Cory is well off. We are never really told who the people are that observe Richard Cory and who desperately want to live his life in exchange for their meager, difficult lives. The last stanza is definitely the most ambiguous. I'm not sure exactly what "light" the people wait for. Maybe they were working the late shift and waiting for the break of dawn to signal the end of their shift. I definitely wasn't expecting Richard Cory to kill himself, and there is no reason given at the end of the poem. The rhyme scheme of the poem is abab, cdcd, etc.


 * My Interpretation** -- I originally chose this poem because the title, a man's name, seemed simple and sparked my interest in finding out what made Richard Cory so special that he deserved a poem to be written about him. Cory appears to be the true definition of a gentleman: rich, well dressed, clean shaven, courteous, and smart. I first thought he was described this way to make the people jealous but that's not really it. They indeed are jealous of his plush lifestyle, which they assume makes him the happiest person they know. But they only see Richard Cory in passing and never know what goes on behind the scenes. He obviously has some problems and thinks the only way out is to take his own life. Even though the people might have a harder life and job, at the end of the poem, they are still alive and Richard Cory is not. Simon and Garfunkel wrote a song based loosely on this poem and it has been covered by The Wings and Paul McCartney. I thought the picture above was a pretty cool way of showing a bullet through the head without being to graphic.

The Wood Pile -- Robert Frost Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day, I paused and said, "I will turn back from here. No, I will go on farther---and we shall see." The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot went through. The view was all in lines Straight up and down of tall slim trees Too much alike to mark or name a place by So as to say for certain I was here Or somewhere else: I was just far from home. A small bird flew before me. He was careful To put a tree between us when he lighted, And say no word to tell me who he was Who was so foolish as to think what //he// thought. He thought that I was after him for a feather--- The white one in his tail; like one who takes Everything said as personal to himself. One flight out sideways would have undeceived him. And then there was a pile of wood for which I forgot him and let his little fear Carry him off the way I might have gone, Without so much as wishing him good-night. He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piled---and measured, four by four by eight. And not another like it could I see. No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it. And it was older sure than this year's cutting, Or even last year's or the year's before. The wood was gray and the bark warping off it And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle. What held it, though, on one side was a tree Still growing, and on one a stake and prop, These latter about to fall. I thought that only Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks Could so forget his handiwork on which He spent himself, the labor of his ax, And leave it there far from a useful fireplace To warm the frozen swamp as best it could With the slow smokeless burning of decay.


 * Bio** -- Robert Frost (1874-1963) is one of the most well known American poets of all time. His poetry took off rather quickly and got him set financially in a few years. His financial stability couldn't protect him from his son's suicide and his daughter's mental insanity. He has numerous famous poems that are taught in every school in America.


 * Literal Summary** -- The narrator of the poem is walking through the wintry woods alone, typical of a Robert Frost poem. He thinks about turning back but decides to push on and continue on his lonesome walk. Thick snow covers the ground and nothing is visible besides the white of the snow and a horizon filled with skinny trees. He sees a bird fly by and notices a nice white feather in his tail, but the narrator forgets the bird for an interesting pile of chopped maple wood. It's a decent sized pile of good lumber, which has been sitting, rotting, for a number of years. The pile is decaying and getting overgrown by the vegetation around it. The narrator wonders who could invest so much time into a nice pile of wood, only to leave it untouched in the middle of the woods.


 * Ambiguous Parts** -- I found this to be a very descriptive poem with lots of imagery, but there were still parts of the poem that are a little ambiguous. I found the whole bird situation to be a little random, but maybe that's what Frost was going for. It comes out of nowhere and the narrator isn't doing anything except meandering through the woods so he easily notices the bird. Another part I found a little more obscure was the discussion of the tree and prop that were holding up the pile of wood. I feel like the live, growing tree versus the decaying stake and prop means something but am not sure what. There was no rhyme scheme to speak of in this poem.


 * My Interpretation** -- I wanted to do a Frost poem and found this one to be a pretty solid poem. I really enjoyed going through the situations and images the narrator was seeing. Whenever it snowed back home I would always but on my cold gear and trek through the woods, not knowing what I was to find in the snowy woods. This poem seemed very peaceful and was a change of pace from the previous poems I read. The end of the poem made me wonder who chopped this wood and stacked it in a nice pile and left it, with no purpose. I believe it was someone very similar to the narrator, in that he was just out in the woods killing some time and decided to chop and split some wood. The satisfaction isn't in the purpose of chopped wood: fire, but just the fact that something positive, new, and useful had been done. The last two lines really give off some powerful imagery that I felt like was the perfect end to this poem. You can almost see the decay coming out of the wood pile and spreading throughout the woods.

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Fog -- Carl Sandburg

The fog comes on little cat feet.

It sits looking over harbour and city on silent haunches and then moves on.


 * Bio** -- Carl Sandburg (1878-1967) was one of America's most-read poets in the 1920s and 1930s. Sandburg wrote poems for the working class people, stating: "Simple poems for simple people." His house is still visited by many tourists today in Flat Rock, North Carolina.


 * Literal Summary** -- The literal summary of this poem is pretty simple. A fog rolls into town very quietly, pauses over the seaport and town, and then rolls on to another city.


 * Ambiguous Parts** -- You could either say the whole poem is really simple and to the point, or you could go the other way and say the whole poem is ambiguous and has some really deep meaning. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle. I don't like sitting around thinking of underlying meanings in poems but due to the length and simplicity of this poem, I was forced to. There isn't really a rhyme scheme to this poem.


 * My Interpretation** -- I chose this poem because it is simple and short, yet has some pretty good imagery and personification in it as well. Another reason I chose it is because I'm from North Carolina and have driven past the exit signs for the Carl Sandburg Home so I thought I should check out some of his poetry. I like the literal interpretation of the poem but also like relating the fog to personal problems. Personal problems can creep up on you "on little cat feet" and affect your life in a plethora of different ways. But if you are able to identify them and address them, they usually don't stay too long and you can get on with your life.