Author Typewriters!

The Little Ghost

The Little Ghost by Edna St. Vincent Millay is delightfully charming yet eerie. The ghost in this poem is not haunting or spooky. She is mysteriously graceful and demure. The line “She smiled and smiled—there was no hint of sadness in her face” is especially provocative. It allows readers to come to their own conclusions about the ghost’s previous life and makes one wonder how or why she is content with her life after death. The poem is also intriguing because the ghost’s origin is a mystery. Perhaps she lived in the speaker’s home once upon a time, perhaps she is someone from the speaker’s past, or perhaps the ghost the narrator speaks of is a portion of herself she lost long ago. 

The Little Ghost by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I knew her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is high—higher than most—
And the green gate was locked.

And yet I did not think of that
Till after she was gone—
I knew her by the broad white hat,
All ruffled, she had on.

By the dear ruffles round her feet,
By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
Her gown's white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay,
What she would do—and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
I let my garden grow!

She bent above my favourite mint
With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled—there was no hint
Of sadness in her face.

She held her gown on either side
To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
The way great ladies go.

And where the wall is built in new
And is of ivy bare
She paused—then opened and passed through
A gate that once was there. 

I suppose I've been neglecting poetry a bit...

William Blake’s 1794 Poison Tree, a poem in his Songs of Experience collection, is lyrical yet sinister. Just like the speaker in the poem, Blake is devious in the construction of his work. The poem feigns cheerfulness and even appears on the page as a nursery rhyme might. However, as each stanza progresses the tone grows darker and darker ascending to its murderous conclusion. The poem seems to be a comment on human nature and goodness. It analyzes the ill- effects of holding a grudge. Blake brilliantly weaves a literal and metaphorical world together. As the narrator’s hatred grows deeper and deeper, it becomes more tangible until finally it is manifested in reality. 

A Poison Tree by William Blake

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Wise Words