Poem Found Here: "For a Poet" by Countee Cullen
This poem has so many repeating lines. The first two lines and the last lines repeat: "I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, / And laid them away in a box of gold;" Furthermore the repetition of the same rhyme of -th and -ld words hit hard and are jarring.
For a poet, there's cynicism.
This poem is not the passing of the torch -- those types of gift poems where the speaker writes it like a commencement speech. Yes, the speaker's dreams are in silk and in a box, but note the separation of the dream into a beautiful containment -- the flow of -th.
Where long will cling the lips of the moth
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold,
The following two lines has a nature image of the "lips of the moth," but the moth doesn't serve as a beautiful metaphor to coincide with the silken cloth -- rather antagonistically. Even thought the moth's cocoon is silk, the moth itself is the unpretty byproduct. "Long" in that line isn't a determinate of time, rather the emotion of want. It seems (although a bit of a stretch) the moth is burying itself in such beauty.
So much is buried that "I hide no hate; I am not even wroth / Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold." Even though the "hate" is not hidden what is hated is hidden; furthermore, anger is hidden against the physical breath that's keen and cold.
So when the lines repeat, "I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth. / And laid them away in a box of gold." The dreams are protected from the outside reality and metaphors. They are kept internal, but beautiful.
This poem has so many repeating lines. The first two lines and the last lines repeat: "I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, / And laid them away in a box of gold;" Furthermore the repetition of the same rhyme of -th and -ld words hit hard and are jarring.
For a poet, there's cynicism.
This poem is not the passing of the torch -- those types of gift poems where the speaker writes it like a commencement speech. Yes, the speaker's dreams are in silk and in a box, but note the separation of the dream into a beautiful containment -- the flow of -th.
Where long will cling the lips of the moth
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold,
The following two lines has a nature image of the "lips of the moth," but the moth doesn't serve as a beautiful metaphor to coincide with the silken cloth -- rather antagonistically. Even thought the moth's cocoon is silk, the moth itself is the unpretty byproduct. "Long" in that line isn't a determinate of time, rather the emotion of want. It seems (although a bit of a stretch) the moth is burying itself in such beauty.
So much is buried that "I hide no hate; I am not even wroth / Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold." Even though the "hate" is not hidden what is hated is hidden; furthermore, anger is hidden against the physical breath that's keen and cold.
So when the lines repeat, "I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth. / And laid them away in a box of gold." The dreams are protected from the outside reality and metaphors. They are kept internal, but beautiful.
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