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The Darkling Thrush
I leant upon a coppice gate,
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled vine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to me
The Century's corpse outleant,
Its crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind its death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervorless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead,
In a full-throated evensong
Of joy illimited.
An ancient thrush, frail, gaunt and small,
With 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
well this poem is obviously focusing on Hardy\'s view of the world. remembering that Hardy had a passion for nature, this poem is about him channeling his emotions through his love of nature. Just from the title we can learn how hardy has twisted the words to mean something more ominous, Thrush is also called a Nightingale, however Hardy uses its other name because he wants to emphasise the darkness of the poem. Nightingale is often used when referring to love poetry, Thrush also to be honest is not a nice word with strong syllables at the beginning TH and end SH. Darkling is referring to the time when the Thrush sings. however when you think about it Hardy could have easily called this poem the \'Singing Nightingale\' or some other optimistic title, but it is obvious from reading the title that instead of talking about the beauty of nature Hardy writes about Broken lyres and the death of the year, instead of the new beginning and hope for the
future. This poem also tells us a lot about Hardy. \'and I was unaware\' at the end of the poem it almost seems that Hardy is desperate to be like the Thrush and like the other humans \'had sought their household fires\' but Hardy can\'t, there are hints at religion in this poem and it could be Hardy searching for a meaning in life.
I also have to mention the personification of nature in this poem, \"at once a voice arose\" I dont know about you but last time I checked animals didnt have voices as such... this and other factors the idea of an \"ancient pulse\" and \"century\'s corpse\" shows us that Hardy held nature in high esteem, bare in mind Hardy was a founding member of the RSPCA
The Darkling Thrush Summary
It's the very end of the day. In fact, it's the very end of the year. The countryside is frozen into an icy, unwelcoming landscape. It's not quite Hoth, but it's close. As our speaker stares out into the gloom, he's reminded that everything around him is on the fast track to death and decay. We're not saying that our speaker is a downer. He's just not exactly a "glass half full" sort of guy.
Then again, maybe the world is full of zombie-like humans and gray, gray weather. After all, our speaker does hail from England. And the UK isn't exactly a tropical paradise. You'd think that our speaker would want to buy a one-way ticket to Aruba, right? Instead, he seems to obsess over the barren British countryside.
Things go from dull and depressing to outright dismal. No life seems to stir. Anywhere.
...Until, that is, our speaker hears the most unexpected sound: a bird singing. The little thing isn't in the best of shape. It's been beaten badly by the weather, and it seems as old and death-bound as the year itself. That doesn't stop it from belting its heart out, though. It's bound and determined to share every last ounce of joy in its soul.
Why be joyful when the world is so crummy? Well, that's a good question. In fact, that's exactly the question that our speaker asks himself. He can't figure out why in the world anything – let alone a bird – would waste its last breath in a song that no one will hear. Unfortunately, our feathered friend doesn't give him any answers. (What do you think this is, Disney? Birds don't talk, folks. Which makes it a bit tricky for out speaker to get any answers.)
Strangely enough, our speaker doesn't even try to figure it out. He's content to know that something out there sees a reason to exist and to be joyful – even if he can't comprehend the reasons himself.
But, don't worry, folks – one birdsong isn't going to turn this guy into an optimist. He's a hard skinned realist. No doubts about it. Nonetheless, he's able to appreciate happiness when he sees it. And that's something….right?
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