The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy
Hardy’s work
– Naturalism, Wessex (countryside), pre-industrial England, nostalgia
Role of
destiny in everything
Society of
consumption, consumerism
The industrialized
were brought back to their human nature
“Had chosen
thus to fling his soul (<3)
Upon the
growing gloom”
The Darkling
Thrush
BY THOMAS HARDY
I leant upon
a coppice gate
When
Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's
dregs made desolate
The
weakening eye of day.
dusk
The tangled pine-stems scored the sky
Like
strings of broken lyres,
And all
mankind that haunted nigh
Had
sought their household fires.
All have returned home to warmth and love,
but speaker is alone, leaning on a coppice-gate
The land's
sharp features seemed to be
Rigor mortis
The Century's corpse outleant,
The Century's corpse outleant,
Century – Victorian Era
Death is the starkest contrast to life
His crypt
the cloudy canopy,
Crypt – enclosure, pit
The
wind his death-lament.
The ancient
pulse of germ and birth
Was
shrunken hard and dry,
And every
spirit upon earth
Seemed
fervourless as I.
·
Landscape seems
numb, inhuman – a Century that has lost its breath and is in a lull
·
People have
become cold, static, no longer create or germinate – all mechanical
·
No one
bothered with being human anymore
At once a
voice arose among
The
bleak twigs overhead
In a
full-hearted evensong
Of
joy illimited;
Bleak twigs contrasted with limitless joy
An aged
thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In
blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen
thus to fling his soul
Upon
the growing gloom.
So little
cause for carolings
Of
such ecstatic sound
Was written
on terrestrial things
Afar
or nigh around,
That I could
think there trembled through
His
happy good-night air
Some blessed
Hope, whereof he knew
And
I was unaware.
Does he know this century is inept? Numb?
Thrush singing because he wants to
Landscape does not give cues for celebration
No answers to the question – where is his
music coming from
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