Song for a Summer’s Day – Sylvia Plath

This is a different Sylvia Plath poem from many poems that people usually associate with her name. This poem was written in the summer of 1956 before her pending marriage to Ted Hughes. The scene is Cambridge when at the University and exploring the countryside with Ted Hughes.

Song for a Summer's Day

Through fen and farmland walking
With my own country love
I saw slow flocked cows move
White hulks on their day's cruising;
Sweet grass sprang for their grazing.

The air was bright for looking:
Most far in blue, aloft,
Clouds steered a burnished drift;
Larks' nip and tuck arising
Came in for my love's praising.

Sheen of the noon sun striking
Took my heart as if
It were a green-tipped leaf
Kindled by my love's pleasing
Into an ardent blazing.

And so, together, talking,
Through Sunday's honey-air
We walked (and still walk there —-
Out of the sun's bruising)
Till the night mists came rising.

Sylvia Plath composed the summer of 1956
(1932 - 1963)

There is a lot of action taking place in the repetitive use of the doing words such as walking, cruising, and praising. Especially talking with her country love. Ted Hughes had a strong affinity for the countryside and the animal life therein. In fact, SP wrote an Ode to Ted Hughes on this aspect of his nature at a similar time as this poem. And in this poem TH comments on the distinct movement of larks as they nip and tuck.

SP likens her heart to a green-tipped leaf in the blaze of her mid-day talk with TH. She is in love and her love flows to all around her as she walks. And Sunday was always a more sacred day in 1956. I do like the honey-air of a Sunday in relaxed recreation. The sweet coloured contented fellowship of sharing the beauty of summer sunshine with TH.

The last three lines indicate reflection and a recall of her walk with TH; indicative of her love still very much evident – We walked (and still walk there —- Out of the sun’s bruising)

The last line could be a little prophetic – Till the night mists came rising.

When I was one and twenty – A. E. Housman

When I was one-and-twenty

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
`Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.’
But I was one-and-twenty
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
`The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
‘Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.’
And I am two-and-twenty
And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.

A. E. Housman (1859 – 1936)

Here is another love poem in similar vein to my previous Coleridge Post made up of two eight line stanzas with rhyming scheme abcbcaaa / abcbadad and an easy flowing rhythm.

The advice from a wise man goes unheeded and youth must fall in love – falling is unavoidable … part of life … hopefully there is a getting up again without too many scars and the endless rue will eventually fade away. But ‘tis better to have loved’ than never loved at all’ which reminds me of a Tennyson poem.

The personal life for A. E. Housman, who had a dedicated and unrequited same sex love, was used to good effect in another poem. This time in a delightful poem by Wendy Cope who plays on this fact in relation to her, hopefully fictitious, choices of partners –

Another Unfortunate Choice

I think I am in love with A E Housman.
Which puts me in a worse than usual fix.
No woman ever stood a chance with Houseman
And he’s been dead since 1936.

Wendy Cope (1945 –

‘worse than usual fix’ – implying that previous choices for a partner have led to a degree of disappointment for one reason or another.

A link to A. E. Housman on Wikipedia