Original poem reprinted online here: "Anarchy" by John McCrae
Originally read: December 11, 2012
More information about the Poet: John McCrae
The description in the second line got me interested in the poem, "Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light" and I know this is a John McCrae poem (well time frame wise) is slightly behind the (like around 15 years or so) Modernist era.
But I wonder how poems are looked at after a time. For example this poem is probably a century old (maybe a little less or more). And I'm sure that McCrae didn't want me to read the second line as a noir-ish poem where I envision the speaker walking the streets with two types of lights -- candle lit street posts and red lamps for any comer.
Then running into a drunk who states in stanza 3 "'Speak not of God! In centuries that word / Hath not been uttered! Our own king are we.'"
Then I hear laughter -- maybe from the guy who said this or maybe from the God who, "stretched forth his hand as he heard / and o'er it cast a thousand leagues of sea.'" (the line is reminiscent of the flood to destroy the sins of humanity or, perhaps, a god in search of followers instead of the reverse).
And in this world in the poem (which is also build-up or pre WWI), the observer, the speaker isn't laughing -- is appalled by the whole idea of what really -- a godless society, or a society that god left?
Originally read: December 11, 2012
More information about the Poet: John McCrae
The description in the second line got me interested in the poem, "Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light" and I know this is a John McCrae poem (well time frame wise) is slightly behind the (like around 15 years or so) Modernist era.
But I wonder how poems are looked at after a time. For example this poem is probably a century old (maybe a little less or more). And I'm sure that McCrae didn't want me to read the second line as a noir-ish poem where I envision the speaker walking the streets with two types of lights -- candle lit street posts and red lamps for any comer.
Then running into a drunk who states in stanza 3 "'Speak not of God! In centuries that word / Hath not been uttered! Our own king are we.'"
Then I hear laughter -- maybe from the guy who said this or maybe from the God who, "stretched forth his hand as he heard / and o'er it cast a thousand leagues of sea.'" (the line is reminiscent of the flood to destroy the sins of humanity or, perhaps, a god in search of followers instead of the reverse).
And in this world in the poem (which is also build-up or pre WWI), the observer, the speaker isn't laughing -- is appalled by the whole idea of what really -- a godless society, or a society that god left?
Comments
Post a Comment