Analysis of The Father
The evening found us whom the day had fled,
Once more in bitter anger, you and I,
Over some small, some foolish, trivial thing
Our anger would not decently let die,
But dragged between us, shamed and shivering
Until each other's taunts we scarcely heard,
Until we lost the sense of all we said,
And knew not who first spoke the fatal word.
It seemed that even every kiss we wrung
We killed at birth with shuddering and hate,
As if we feared a thing too passionate.
However close we clung
One hour the next hour found us separate,
Estranged, and Love most bitter on our tongue.
To-night we quarrelled over one small head,
Our fruit of last year's maying, the white bud
Blown from our stormy kisses and the dead
First rapture of our wild, estranging blood.
You clutched him: there was panther in your eyes,
We breathed like beasts in thickets, on the wall
Our shadows in huge challenge seemed to rise,
The room grew dark with anger. Yet through all
The shame and hurt and pity of it you were
Still strangely and imperishably dear,
As one who loves the wild day none the less
That breaks in bitter hands the buds of Spring,
Whose cold hand stops the breath of loveliness,
And drives the wailing ghost of beauty past,
Making the rose, — even the rose, a thing
For pain to be remembered by at last.
I said: 'My son shall wear his father's sword.'
You said: 'Shall hands once blossoms at my breast
Be stained with blood?' I answered with a word
More bitter, and your own, the bitterest
Stung me to sullen anger, and I said:
'My son shall be no coward of his line
Because his mother choose'; you turned your head
And your eyes grew implacable in mine.
And like a trodden snake you turned to meet
The foe with sudden hissing… then you smiled,
And broke our life in pieces at my feet,
'Your child?' you said: 'Your child?'
Scheme | ABCBCDADEFXEFE AGAGHIHIXXXCHJCJ XXDXAKAKLMLM |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0101110111 1101010101 10111101001 10101110011 1101110100 0111011101 0111011111 0111110101 11110100111 1111110001 1111011100 10111 11001101110 01011101101 111110111 1011111011 11101010001 110110111 1111110011 1111010101 1010110111 0111110111 01010101110 110011 1111011101 1101010111 11110111 0101011101 1001100101 1111010111 1111111101 1111110111 1111110101 1100110100 1111010011 1111110111 0111011111 0111010001 0101011111 0111010111 01101010111 111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,785 |
Words | 344 |
Sentences | 12 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 14, 16, 12 |
Lines Amount | 42 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 471 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 113 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:43 min read
- 66 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Father" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/28365/the-father>.
Discuss this Muriel Stuart poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In