Picking up on the interpreting poetry theme from my previous post . . .

[gwynhefar]

In undergrad we studied Wallace Stevens' "The Snow Man":

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

I have always loved winter -- winter is my favourite season. And I completely flummoxed my professor by mentioning that the scene painted did not, in fact, invoke misery to me at all, and the very desolation of the image was one of the things I found most beautiful about it. To which my professor stated, "I have no idea where to go from that . . ."

So, um yeah. I find "The Snow Man" to be an incredibly beautiful and life-affirming poem. Yes, I'm weird.

Comments

[salingerscat.livejournal.com]

that is a very beautiful poem. I can see both sides of the argument although I agree with what you're studying. It's very Buddhist,indeed and reminds me of the work of A.R. Ammons. Hope all is well.