Elinor Wylie
Down to the Puritan Marrow of my bones
There's something in this richness that I hate.
I love the look, austere, immaculate,
Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones.
There's something in my very blood that owns
Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate,
A thread of water, churned to milky spate1
Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones.
I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray,
Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meager sheaves;
That spring, briefer than apple blossom's breath,
Summer, so much too beautiful to stay,
Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves,
And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death.
2. 3 Scansions
I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray,
U � / U �/ U �/ U �/ U � -Length: 5 feet
Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meager sheaves;
U � / U �/ U � / U �/ U � Length: 5 feet
That spring, briefer than apple blossom's breath,
U � / U �/ U �/ U �- Length: 4 feet
3. 5 Images
Bare Hills- visual,
A thread of water, churned to milky spate- auditory
Slanted pastures fenced with stones - visual
Apple blossom�s � olfactory
Cold silver on a sky of slate- tactile
4. Winter is coming to the end and the speaker is not very happy about it.
5. Austere- Severe or stern in disposition or appearance; somber and grave
Immaculate- Impeccably clean; spotless
Sheaves- a bundle of cut stalks of grain or similar plants bound with straw or twine
6. 4 sound devices
And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death- Consonance
briefer than apple blossom's breath - Alliteration
Summer, so much too beautiful to stay,- Assonance
I love the look, austere, immaculate, of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones- Alitteration
7. She feels that winter has a very unique beauty to it. She feels that winter is better than all the other seasons.
8. The poet thinks that life goes by too fast. That we need to look around at the beauty of the world and the seasons. Life moves pretty fast, if you dont stop to look around, you could miss it.