Poetry-Review

“Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson, from THE POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON, edited by Thomas H. Johnson, Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Copyright © 1951, 1955, 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College. Gibbs Smith: Layton, Utah, 2019; originally published in 1891, believed to have been written in 1861. What is hope? Why do we feel hope? And why is hope so important to us? In a story from Greek mythology, hope was famously the only item to remain in Pandora’s box after it released the evils of the world, demonstrating just how valuable hope is to us: had hope escaped from our possession, humanity would have been unable to survive the evils of the world. Emily Dickinson believed in the power and value of hope just as strongly. Famously reclusive, this 19th-century American poet remained largely unpublished during her lifetime, by her own choice. After her death in 1886, however, her poems were discovered and published by her close friends and family. Since then, Dickinson has grown to become one of the most mysterious, emblematic, and loved poets of all time with her short but powerful poems. Much of her poetry is devoted to exploring the nature of life, death, and what she called the “Circumference,” the boundary where the reality that we know meets that of the sublime—God, for example, or for the less religiously inclined, Truth with a capital T. Dickinson was the first poet to really capture my attention when I was younger, and she is now one of my all-time favorite writers. In her beautiful poem “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers,” Dickinson explores the power of hope and what it means to us as humans. In the first stanza, she introduces hope as a bird that “perches in the soul” and forever keeps us company to bear us through difficult days. In the second stanza, Dickinson emphasizes how only the most terrible situations could cause hope to falter, though hope becomes an even greater comfort to us when life is at its most difficult (a “gale” is a strong wind, while “abash” is to make someone disconcerted). Finally, in the last stanza, Dickinson brings home her message of how hope is always with us without ever costing us anything, no matter how difficult or dangerous something may be. I love this poem first and foremost for its message, and then for its structure and wording, which is also beautiful. The poem isn’t very long, but its message is still clear and potent. The rhythm of the words flows smoothly, and the words themselves are simple. I love how Dickinson feels no need to overstretch herself with elaborate and showy writing, and instead chooses to relay her message as simply as possible, which brings me closer to the poem and only heightens the impact of her message. Dickinson is well known for the seemingly hidden meanings and complex symbolism in her work. Though this particular poem of hers is relatively simple, I, like Dickinson and her “hidden” meanings, have a hidden reason for sharing this particular poem with you today. “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers” is, without doubt, an extraordinary, thought-provoking work that showcases poetry at its best. But that’s not the only reason I chose to review it. In a time when the world increasingly has to deal with problems both large and small, from climate change to warfare to poverty to politics, it’s more important than ever to remember the message of this poem: hope can carry us through the darkest of storms, and even when all else has abandoned us, hope never will. And I hope (yes, I hope) that you will remember it, for hope never stops—at all. Kate Choi, 14Seoul, Korea

“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost, from THE POETRY OF ROBERT FROST: THE COLLECTED POEMS, COMPLETE AND UNABRIDGED, edited by Edward Connery Lathem, New York: Henry Holt and Co., 2002. Henry Holt: New York, 2002; originally published in 1923. From choosing what clothes we wear to the career path we devote our lives to, life will always be full of choices. “The Road Not Taken,” by Robert Frost, is a poem that describes a traveler who encounters a fork in a road in a forest. Presenting him with a choice between two paths, the poem digs deep into the nature of making choices. “The Road Not Taken” has a melancholy yet peaceful tone to it. Through the description of yellow leaves, I assume that the season is autumn, when vibrantly colored leaves would be falling around the speaker, blanketing the path. The poem has a peaceful sadness emanating throughout, as the speaker laments being unable to experience both roads. In his indecision, he tells himself that he will follow the other path another day, but then adds, “Yet knowing how way leads on to way, / I doubted if I should ever come back.” In the end, he predicts telling the story of his choice with a sigh, wondering what would have happened if he had chosen differently. Robert Frost wrote this poem for his friend and fellow poet Edward Thomas as a joke, because, on their frequent walks together, Thomas was extremely indecisive about which route they should take. No matter what road they took in the end, Thomas would always regret that they had not taken another path, convinced that it would have led to better sights and better places. In my mind, this poem is not just about the traveler and his walk through the woods. In fact, picking a path through a forest is not such an important decision. But that decision is a metaphor for many of the life-changing choices people have to make in their “walk” through life. Whether you’re traveling through the woods or simply navigating through life, you have to set your eyes on a destination. I think the poem is telling us that we should think through all of our options, as it will impact the very direction of our journeys. There’s no point in concocting a million “what ifs.” Every choice you make should bring you closer to that destination. If you’ve made a wrong turn and there’s no going back, just learn from that mistake and stay focused on the destination. Regrets don’t change reality. What will change reality is your determination and how hard you work toward that ideal destination. Alicia Xin, 13Scarsdale, NY

“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost, from THE POETRY OF ROBERT FROST: THE COLLECTED POEMS, COMPLETE AND UNABRIDGED, edited by Edward Connery Lathem, New York: Henry Holt and Co., 2002. Henry Holt: New York, 2002; originally published in 1923. In the spring of 2017, I traveled with my father as he was doing research on the former death camps in eastern Poland. Driving back to Lublin, we made a stop in the Renaissance city of Zamość. In the central square, we came upon an old man in a feather hat and high boots standing next to a gray horse and carriage. The coachman offered to take us around. “I’m the last coachman of Zamość,” he declared. Curious, I asked: “What do you mean?” The old coachman replied in Polish, which I could understand, more or less, because I speak Russian: “I’m an old stupid man still to be driving this horse and buggy.” His words carried me back across the ocean to my native New England. The ride in the old-fashioned carriage at dusk brought to mind the second stanza of one of my favorite poems by the great American poet Robert Frost: My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. The 48-year-old Frost wrote this melodic poem in Shaftsbury, Vermont, in 1922 and included it in his collection New Hampshire. The poem captures a person’s travels through the night—and through the unknown. The speaker stops to rest in the alluring quietness of the night. This scene in the poem shows the speaker’s peculiar behavior in front of the “little horse.” The speaker seeks a break from his commitments and obligations (“promises”) in life. The poem continues: Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. The question that has been soaring in my head is: Whose woods are these? Who is the greater “he” in the poem? Is it a person—a farmer or a simple peasant boy? “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep,” states the speaker in the final stanza. I wonder again, to whom are these promises given? They could be promised to a specific person or a soul, to God or a higher power, or even to art itself. To accomplish his meaningful tasks, Frost organized the poem in deceptively simple stanzas with rhymes that travel through the poem like a trotting horse through the woods. The rhyming conjures up the poem’s central theme. In the first three stanzas, the rhyme of the third line becomes the main rhyme of the first, second, and fourth lines in the following stanza: here in the first becomes queer, near, and year in the second. In the final, fourth stanza the whole poem comes together by employing the same rhyme throughout: deep/keep/sleep/sleep. Why is this poem called one of the best in the 20th century? I think the poem is like an earring that was lost and later found. It shows human nature simplified into little pieces waiting to be discovered. Frost’s poem invites but does not force the reader to keep his or her own promises to people, and to the world. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 11Brookline, MA