Poetry Analysis

1.  "We Real Cool" by Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die soon.

This particular poem was striking both in terms of visuals and theme.  The poet accomplishes a complex mixture of morose humor and tragic mourning in remarkably few words.  At the poem's end, the reader appropriately feels left hanging due to the lack of an end-of-line "we".  In just two words, the poet abruptly switches the entire tone of the poem.  Going back and re-reading in the context of the end is surprisingly morbid.

2.  "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

The frequent use of conflicting juxtapositions in this poem are intriguing.  Sunday is typically associated with lazy afternoons and warm days (helped undoubtedly by the word "sun"), so its placement in winter is immediately something potentially unusual for the reader.  Their contrasting elements are relevant to the content of the poem as well.  Sunday is traditionally the day of rest, giving much more unspoken significance to the father's work -- and the fact that it is thankless.  By using these opposing elements, the poet can convey otherwise abstract ideas such as tough love or regret.  There is also a sense of mystery, as the central purpose of the poem (the narrator's relationship to his father) is not explored until the third stanza.

3.  "A Murmur in the Trees -- to note --" by Emily Dickinson

A Murmur in the Trees — to note —
Not loud enough — for Wind —
A Star — not far enough to seek —
Nor near enough — to find —

A long — long Yellow — on the Lawn —
A Hubbub — as of feet —
Not audible — as Ours — to Us —
But dapperer — More Sweet —

A Hurrying Home of little Men
To Houses unperceived —
All this — and more — if I should tell —
Would never be believed —

Of Robins in the Trundle bed
How many I espy
Whose Nightgowns could not hide the Wings —
Although I heard them try —

But then I promised ne'er to tell —
How could I break My Word?
So go your Way — and I'll go Mine —
No fear you'll miss the Road.

The halting style and highly visual word choice both contribute to the poet's theme of the world's imperceptible wonders.  The frequent breaks in the lines give the impression that what the poet is attempting to describe cannot quite be put down into words.  All but the last stanza are devoted to establishing a nearly magical world of nature that exists outside human senses ("Not audible -- as Ours -- to Us -- ").  As with the previous two poems, the "shift" does not come until the end, where Dickinson directly addresses the reader.  In the final stanza, Dickinson somewhat paradoxically reveals that she is telling a secret, then ends the poem with a return to normality.

4.  "Dream-land" by Edgar Allan Poe

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule-
From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE- out of TIME.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters- lone and dead,-
Their still waters- still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,-
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,-
By the mountains- near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-
By the grey woods,- by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp-
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot the most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy-
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by-
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis- oh, 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not- dare not openly view it!
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.

This is another poem about an otherworldly realm.  However, by the third stanza Poe takes a decidedly dark turn.  Poe's diction reflects this.  At the beginning of the second stanza, he describes "bottomless vales" and "Titan woods", but by the end he is describing vapid, lonely waters.  A rolling style is used that transitions the reader from one dream vista to the next.  Interestingly, the relatively grandiose word choice is paired with a simple rhyming pattern (couplets).  The result is a work that reads much more like a story than a poem.

5.  "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,   

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

"Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" is written as if the reader is thrown in the middle of a conversation with his father. This shift does not became apparent (once again) until the last stanza where the father is addressed specifically. At that moment, it becomes apparent that the poet's entire "speech" was directed at a single person. Up to that point, it is just a general inspirational poem (albeit, a very effective one). Outside of the personal message, the author is urging others to finish strong and not go down without a fight. This is accomplished through galvanizing language and imagery ("rage", "blaze like meteors", "fierce tears").