Friday, November 30, 2012

Fledglings from the Nest

153

Dust is the only Secret—
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his "native town."

Nobody know "his Father"—
Never was a Boy—
Hadn't any playmates,
Or "Early history"—

Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!

Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest—
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest! 

I chose this poem for its message and because of the metaphor inside.  The poem is very short and yet it talks about the ever mysterious topic of death.  I like that it talks about death with an air of mystery and adventure. We see this in the first stanza: "Until we are "In his 'native town.'" we cannot know what death is. I personally enjoy reading poems with dark and mysterious themes, because they leave quite a bit of blank area for us readers to fill in with our own images and descriptions. 

The other reason that this poem popped out at me was the metaphor of humans being portrayed as birds.  The poem mentions God "his Father" and compares him to a bird in the way that he builds his world, the Earth, just like a bird builds its nest.  Then the poem goes back to its theme of death and portrays us humans as the fledglings in the nest, helplessly plucked agains our will as we die. 

1 comment:

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