Rite Of Spring Poem by Seamus Heaney
Rite Of Spring
So winter closed its fist
And got it stuck in the pump.
The plunger froze up a lump
In its throat, ice founding itself
Upon iron. The handle
Paralysed at an angle.
Then the twisting of wheat straw
into ropes, lapping them tight
Round stem and snout, then a light
That sent the pump up in a flame
It cooled, we lifted her latch,
Her entrance was wet, and she came.
A beautifully crafted poem with rhyme, thought provoking and intriguing too. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
Heaney in later years said he would have liked to lose this poem, calling it ‘a crude bit of work’. The ending is indeed crude, a young man’s embarrassing metaphor. But up to that point it’s successful. Shows even a genius is capable of youthful error.
Is it just me, or is Heaney dealing in a thinly veiled metaphor...? ?
Like Susan below I did wonder about the last bit of this poem, especially with a title like the Rite of Spring, very symbolic.
The water-trough struggle- keep the pipes ice free or haul water. Winter has its plagues... thankfully there is that beautiful sparkle of snow to keep us fond of the season. Ummmm.... that last bit- - is it just me or is that more than just a wee bit alluding to sexual matters? I preferred the simple poem about keeping the water flowing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/23/2024 9:10:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Her entrance was wet, and she came. Nice piece of work.