St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 30 text:

Uhr netrg nf Hur By -IOSEPH MCINERNEY x 'N DK HE poetry of Poe is largely a reflection of his MK short life of misfortune and misery. When 'K he was two years old, his parents died leav- -. f- ing him to be tossed about on the sea of life S 2 with only a few friends to protect him. He EK d v EK was adopted when seven, and from that time there ensued a career of bitter disappointment. His constant struggle to keep the wolf from the door, the hard but losing battle he fought against his craving for drink, and the crowning sorrow of seeing the woman he loved suffering from want and his inability to aid her, all lent to his mind a sombre color which deepened as he poured forth his feelings in verse. The familiar picture of Poe's cottage at Fordham, wind-swept and dreary, holds the secret of his life and poetry. The themes of Poe's poetry are few-man's loneliness, the hopelessness of love, remorse for a life ill-spent. His poems bring no breath from the outer world. Theirs is a land of dreams, of cloudy skies, of tempests, of fantastic terrors. Through this land glide ghosts and birds of ill-omen-his immortal raven with its ominously sombre never more, and his ghouls depressing and chilling the human heart with their muffled monotone. When all this is united with his vivid imagery and well nigh faultless verse that flows in haunt- ing melody, we have that poetical temperament which has these many years gained for Poe ardent admirers on both sides of the Atlantic. The Raven, his masterpiece, is a grim foreshadowing of the sad death of his child-wife. It was the thought of this separation, a separation of death, that wrought on him to pour out in solemn verse this poem that seems to strain the VCYY Ch01'dS Of the heart. The mysteriousness brought out

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1 THE WANDERLUST It tracks the pathway of monsoons O'er barbed sedge and drifting dunes VVhere sloping basins of lagoons, Through moss-grown cypress shine. It speeds from wood and splashing stream To where, like oriental dream, The cities of the Caliphs gleam Above the desert line. 'Neath Gizeh's hills the camel train Glides o'er Sahara's burning plain And fades adown the drifting lane, The blue horizon barg- A siren song the breezes light Call like some fabled desert sprite And whispering voices of the night Come from the desert, far. And just like that must ever be The hidden, longed-for Lorely Thatis always, always urging me To hit the road again And ever I have lonesome been For places I have never seen For fairy isles on seas serene Where Southern skies begin. Iive done a million miles around The sprawling path that knows no bound Vlfherever chance its course has wound Across the whole vast sphere. In summer seas 'way off somewhere, I'll find some day my island fair,- T guess though it's a land called There,' Thatis anywhere but Herein

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THE POETRY OF POE 29 in the piece, though criticized by some, manifests a highly imaginative power. Poe dwells here with phantoms that Hit about like bats in the darkness-he is occupied with shadows, not natural shadows suggestive of substance and light, but spectral shadows coming we know not from where, and caused we know not by what. An instance of this is where the raven, resting on the bust of Pallas, throws its shadow to the floor instead of on the ceiling where it should properly belong. The narrative is familiar. There the man sits in his study, pondering, doubting, dreaming of his life associate deceased. His heart is torn with sorrow, his mind stunned with fear. There is a stirring of the curtains, and a tapping at the door. Finding no cause for these mysterious dis- turbances that set his heart thumping, he settles down againgto dream, when the tapping is repeated on the lattice of the window. He flings it open, and in there Hutters a raven-the symbol of despair-and perches on a bust of Pallas above the door. A colloquy follows between the dreamer and the bird, filled with horror, but glowing with the thought of his lost one. Remove the slight veil of obscurity that cloaks these verses, and there is revealed the lovable character of our poet. This beautiful nature existed in the man: it was but burdened down by hard trials and rude bereavements. And here there come to mind those immortal illustrations of Dore. This artist has added to the prestige of the poem, if that were possible, by including it in those works of liter- ature touched by his sublime pencil. If one would drink deeply of the spirit of The Ravenf' let him Hrst carefully read the poem, then let him take up the illustrations and study them ponderingly. VVith the impressions thus gained still fresh in his memory, let him go over the piece thoroughly again-an impression will be made on his mind that time will not ea-sily erase. For Dore has caught the very heart