The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Poetry: The Best Words in the Best Order - #BlogchatterA2ZChallenge2021

-

 THE ARROW AND THE SONG

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

                                                                  Brad Jacobsen

I shot an arrow into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For, so swiftly it flew, the sight

Could not follow it in its flight.

                                                                   Hannah Spuler

I breathed a song into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For who has sight so keen and strong,

That it can follow the flight of song?

                                                                    Prezi

Long, long afterward, in an oak

I found the arrow, still unbroke;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found again in the heart of a friend.


The Poet: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 -1882)

HW Longfellow, the American poet, is known for his lyrical poems which abound in themes imbued in legend and mythology. He experimented with free verse, often working painstakingly on the form of the poem because he believed that writers wanted their readers to listen to how it sounded. Some of his popular works were 'The Song of Hiawatha', 'The Wreck of the Hesperus', 'The Village Blacksmith' and of course, the wonderful 'A Psalm of Life'.

'The Arrow and the Song' is a lovely little poem that has a simple rhyme scheme, and hence, used extensively for recitation by young children. The poet makes a comparison between the flight of an arrow and that of a song.

The poet shoots an arrow into the air, and it flies so quickly that his eyes could not follow and fathom where it landed. Likewise, he sings a song into the air, but obviously, he could not follow its flight, a feat humanly impossible.

Long afterwards, however, he found the arrow, unbroken and intact, in the trunk of an oak tree. The song he found, from beginning to end, in the heart of a friend. 

The poem reveals how quickly both the arrow and the song disappear into the air, but reappear later, proving that they are both long-lived.

Another interpretation is the contrast between an arrow and a song. One is sharp and can hurt others, while the other is joyful and filled with love. 

                                                                          Etsy

                                                                 Times Literary Supplement

(Such a distinguished looking gentleman!)


         This post is a part of #BlogchatterA2ZChallenge2021

       https://www.theblogchatter.com

      #BlogChatterA2Z #BlogChatterA2Z2021                                                                                            


Comments

  1. Purba chakraborty4/23/2021 11:29:00 PM

    Such a beautiful poem! Loved your analysis.

    ReplyDelete
  2. deepti menon4/25/2021 11:56:00 AM

    Purba, I read this poem long ago in school. Today, it has come back to me like the arrow and the song in the form of this post. Thank you so much for your appreciation.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Suchita4/26/2021 12:35:00 PM

    I read this poem recently and thought about how as content creators, we always worry about our words reaching people. I thought this poem also tells you to not worry and just create. It'll reach where it has to. I really liked your distinction that arrow can hurt but song is love.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. deepti menon4/27/2021 10:18:00 PM

      That is a wonderful interpretation, Suchita. That's what's special about poetry. You can read meanings in it which are totally your own.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THE STRANGE CASE OF THE MISSING TEETH

-
Image
                                                                            Clipart.com I cannot forget the shocked expression on the young dentist’s face. “Where are all your teeth?” “Uhh… in my mouth, where they should be?” I mumbled, perched on the leather chair as he peered into my mouth. His eyes widened with bewilderment as he leant forward, almost falling into the gaping cavern in front of him. “Three missing here… three on the other side! Two more here and a broken tooth!” I was quite shocked out of my wits. Where had all my teeth disappeared to? I did recall a few sittings earlier where some of my wisdom had been yanked out, but eight and a half teeth? I was a walking miracle! More importantly, an ‘eating’ miracle! When my better half agonised over one painful grinder that made lif...
Read more

Clouds and Waves by Rabindrananth Tagore - Poetry: The Best Words in the Best Order - #BlogchatterA2ZChallenge2021

-
Image
     CLOUDS AND WAVES Rabindranath Tagore Amazon.com Serenity in the Garden Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me - "We play from the time we wake till the day ends. We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon." I ask, "But how am I to get up to you?" They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds." "My mother is waiting for me at home," I say, "How can I leave her and come?" Then they smile and float away.    But I know a nicer game than that, mother. I shall be the cloud and you the moon.  I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be the blue sky.  The folk who live in the waves call out to me - "We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know not where we pass.            Sunaina Coelho I ask, "But how am I to join you? They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand wit...
Read more

The Miracle of Love - Fiction - Post Number 8: #MyFriendAlexa

-
Image
Credits: Col. Gopinath Menon The waves crashed on the rocks, a sound that Sudesh loved, as he sat feeling the freshness of the spray on his face. Voices echoed around him, and he could feel the vibration as people jogged along the beach, and his sightless eyes turned towards the movement. He had been coming to this spot for many months now, ever since he had shifted to Mumbai, after his mother had passed away.  The sound of the sea evoked a vision that he could only feel, not see. He could smell the delicious puris that Ram Prasad was frying, very near to where he sat. Every day the cheerful proprietor would look for a moment when there were few customers, and hand over a plate of piping hot puris and delicious potato curry to the gentle blind man who sat there, so young and so uncomplaining!                                                 ...
Read more