Olivia+O'Connell

//**Hart Crane**//

//Rationale: // //Works Cited: //

Click here for more information about Hart Crane Contented with such random consolations As the wind deposits In slithered and too ample pockets. For we can still love the world, who find A famished kitten on the step, and know Recesses for it from the fury of the street, Or warm torn elbow coverts. We will sidestep, and to the final smirk Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us, Facing the dull squint with what innocence And what surprise! And yet these fine collapses are not lies More than the pirouettes of any pliant cane; Our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise. We can evade you, and all else but the heart: What blame to us if the heart live on. The game enforces smirks; but we have seen The moon in lonely alleys make A grail of laughter of an empty ash can, And through all sound of gaiety and quest Have heard a kitten in the wilderness. || **Chaplinesque Summary** Heavy in symbolism, Hart Crane’s “Chaplinesque” derives its title from the silent film actor and comedian, Charlie Chaplin. From his poem, it is apparent that Crane is an admirer of Chaplin. Crane identifies with Chaplin, and uses him as a symbol for poet’s struggles in 1920 America through the character of the clown. But in extension, Crane also meant him to symbolize the model of man. In the first line, Crane uses “we,” a plural profound; he associates himself, the poets and humanity, with Chaplin (1). It is man who makes “meek adjustments” and finds contentment in “random consolations” brought by the “winds” of chance (1-3). The Chaplin character’s humanity will not permit him to overlook the “famished kitten” on the step (6). The kitten acts a symbol of those things that hold our affection, appealing to our emotions. The Chaplin character is the poet in all of us, drawn to protect the kitten in his “torn elbow coverts” (8). He only had the “final smirk” as his last defense (9). The poet avoids the “thumb” of fate, and society’s “dull squint” (10-12). Through his diction, Crane creates abrupt transitions, and overarching symbolism of a kitten and the Chaplin character. “Chaplinesque” is more abstract and higher level than many of his earlier poems. In addition, the poem does not center so heavily upon imagery as much of Crane’s work does, and he does not employ dialogue, one of his favorite tools, lending the idea that he intended this to be very distinct from his previous work. The diction of the fourth stanza is tangled and purposeful. Directly in the middle of the stanza, Crane declares, “our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise” (16). An obsequy is a funeral rite or ceremony, yet it is “no enterprise,” so that death rites of humanity are not important (16). Justly, the theme of the poem is that death is inescapable, just as the heart is. Therefore, we cannot blame the poet/man for helping the kitten, or his own death. Sympathy and death are paramount to our nature and fate. In the concluding stanza, man’s inability to betray his own heart becomes apparent. Because he must make “meek adjustments,” he often surrenders to a “smirk (1-9). We play the “game” of life for these “smirks” (19). Yet, despite of it all, there is still beauty and joy found in the “grail of laughter” and love through the “kitten in the wilderness” (21-23). In the final stanza, Crane’s poetic nature wins out, ending the piece on a more optimistic note. || Out in the late amber afternoon, Confused among chrysanthemums, Her parasol, a pale balloon, Like a waiting moon, in shadow swims. Her furtive lace and misty hair Over the garden dial distill The sunlight,—then withdrawing wear Again the shadows at her will. Gently yet suddenly, the sheen Of stars inwraps her parasol. She hears my step behind the green Twilight, stiller than shadows, fall. “Come, it is too late,—too late To risk alone the light’s decline: Now has the evening long to wait,”— But her own words are night’s and mine. || **In Shadow Summary ** With calculated ‍‍rhyme and rhythm ‍‍, Hart Crane essentially crafts a love poem in his piece, “In Shadow.” Revolving around two lovers meeting in a garden, Crane utilizes basic verse infused with a rhyming pattern. Line one, ending in “afternoon” rhymes with line three, “balloon” (1-3). Yet, Crane brings the rhyme back in the middle of line four by using “moon” (4). This pattern contributes to the rhythmic sense that pervades throughout this piece. Crane’s rhythmic patterns lend a stillness of mood, one that centers on the air of a man and woman’s meeting in a garden. Regularly, Crane uses imagery as a main component in his works. Indeed, “In Shadow” employs the imagery of a woman with a “parasol” like a “pale balloon,” walking in a garden (3-4). The descriptions in the earlier parts of the poem hold a sense of restlessness, infused with reserved energy, implying repressed sexuality, a common theme in Crane’s work. Crane’s second and third stanza’s describe a women moving in and out of sunlight and shadows, until she hears her lover. The shadows becomes a character itself in the poem, involved in the lover’s rendezvous. Other Crane poems utilize the same sense of importance of nature, and of lightness and darkness, especially in “Voyages.” The last stanza of “In Shadow” is much less typical than the rest of the poem. This change stands out against the basic verse of the rest of the poem. The woman in the garden interrupts the speaker; dialogue is one of Crane’s most beloved tools, and can be seen used similarly in “My Grandmother’s Love Letters.” The sudden dialogue conveys a sense of urgency, mixed with an ominous tone, especially in the last line of her speech. The woman’s diction implies the desperation of the situation by employing “risk,” “too late,” and “wait” (13-15). The conclusion of the poem ends in a suspended state, somewhere between indecision and desire with a sense of expectancy. || As silent as a mirror is believed Realities plunge in silence by. . . I am not ready for repentance; Nor to match regrets. For the moth Bends no more than the still Imploring flame. And tremorous In the white falling flakes Kisses are,-- The only worth all granting. It is to be learned-- This cleaving and this burning, But only by the one who Spends out himself again. Twice and twice (Again the smoking souvenir, Bleeding eidolon!) and yet again. Until the bright logic is won Unwhispering as a mirror Is believed. Then, drop by caustic drop, a perfect cry Shall string some constant harmony,-- Relentless caper for all those who step The legend of their youth into the noon. || **Legend Summary** Between its rich imagery and haunting symbolism, Hart Crane’s poem, “Legend”, revolves around the competing, yet complementing, ideas of sacrifice and renewal. Originating from Crane’s first published book, //White Buildings//, “Legend” is one of his earliest works. Indeed, the poem anchors around the “legend” of youth, or rather the lover, or desired lover, of Crane’s past (23). To Crane, the world is a reflection, “as silent as a mirror is believed, realities plunge in silence by” (1). Mirrored images, or mirrored truths, are reality. In his certainty, Crane not only accepts this world, but claims he is “not ready for repentance” (3). In this repentance, he intends to approach life with desire for rebirth. Likening himself to a moth drawn to the “imploring flame” flame of life, he will embrace his reality as close as he can (6). Crane’s confidence in himself and the world is present through this passage as he asserts himself and his past. Through his imagistic style, Crane crafts ‍diction ‍that burns his passion into the reader. Crane chooses such diction as “cleaving” and “burning,” thus framing his fervor for renewal via allusions to fire and destruction (11). In his search for renewal, Crane recognizes the need for endings. The sacrifice that Crane so desires materialize as he calls for a “bleeding eidolon!” where as an eidolon represents the idealized, past lover in question (16). Yet, Crane’s sacrifice of a “bleeding eidolon” is necessary to truly understand his mirrored reality (16). This sacrifice will continue until “bright logic is won,” thus allowing Crane to achieve his rebirth from destruction (17). Crane’s use of mirrors resurfaces at the close of the poem, meaning life to the poet as he comes to the conclusion that endings are just as vital as beginnings to “believe” his “mirror” (1). In the closing stanza of “Legend,” Crane employs vivid visual imagery as well as his thematic paradoxical ideas. Continuing his vision of sacrifice, Crane depicts each “drop by caustic drop” of blood and pain (20). Yet, in the final line of the poem, Crane diction centers around “noon,” thus alluding to images of the sun, and the renewal it brings (23). A dark, imagery heavy, depiction of Crane’s youthful desires of life, “Legend” explores the poet’s conclusions on the opposing yet symbiotic ideas of sacrifice and renewal. || There are no stars tonight But those of memory. Yet how much room for memory there is In the loose girdle of soft rain. There is even room enough For the letters of my mother’s mother, Elizabeth, That have been pressed so long Into a corner of the roof That they are brown and soft, And liable to melt as snow. Over the greatness of such space Steps must be gentle. It is all hung by an invisible white hair. It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air. And I ask myself: “Are your fingers long enough to play Old keys that are but echoes: Is the silence strong enough To carry back the music to its source And back to you again As though to her?” Yet I would lead my grandmother by the hand Through much of what she would not understand; And so I stumble. And the rain continues on the roof With such a sound of gently pitying laughter. || **My Grandmother's Love Letter's Summary ** Between his imagery and diction, Hart Crane’s poem “My Grandmother’s Love Letters” establishes not only nostalgia, but also the delicacy of the past. A piece about the passing of time, “Love Letters” is one of Crane’s earliest works. From the first stanza, Crane uses imagery to craft his setting; there are “no stars” except for “those of memory” in his attic, protected by a “loose girdle of soft rain” (1-4). Crane’s imagery lends privacy as he examines the past, indicating the value he places in it. When discussing his “mother’s mother,” Crane refers to her by name, “Elizabeth” (6-7). By giving his grandmother’s name a line of its own, Crane defines her importance to him. Yet, the letters are delicate, “liable to melt as snow” (11). Inspecting the past requires care and respect, symbolized by the frail state of the letters. Crane also attests to the “greatness of such space,” in which “steps must be gentle” (12-13). The past is omnipresent. We cannot escape time, nor nostalgia. Establishing the weight of the past, Crane knows the weight of age and what comes with it. The passing of time and all that accompanies it, symbolized by the letters, “trembles,” when scrutinizing it (15). Crane’s muted diction aides the establishment of tone in “Love Letters.” Carefully placing controlled words like “loose,” “soft,” “tremble,” and “pitying,” Crane crafts a calm atmosphere surrounding the letters (4-15). In Crane’s quietly delicate tone, he makes a much louder statement about the state of the past, using the letters as his vehicle. In the final stanzas of “Love Letters,” Crane’s epiphany culminates revolving around the suffering of the past. Realizing he cannot help his grandmother through what she cannot understand, Crane “stumbles” (25). Time and space, symbolized by the sound of the rain, trap him, preventing him from moving backward to his grandmother, framing his desire to discover her past, and in extension, his own. Closing in contradiction, Crane’s poem depicts the “gentle pitying laughter” of rain. Despite his wishes, Crane cannot win back the dead through memory. Although much of “Love Letters” is dominated by imagery and somewhat traditionally stylistic, Crane breaks with the expected in his last few stanzas. A poem revolving around nostalgia, Hart Crane’s poem “My Grandmother’s Love Letters,” delves further into the passing of time, and attempting to reclaim the past. || //Grand Cayman// This tuft that thrives on saline nothingness, Inverted octopus with heavenward arms Thrust parching from a palm-bole hard by the cove ⎯ A bird almost ⎯ of almost bird alarms, Is pulmonary to the wind that jars Its tentacles, horrific in their lurch. The lizard’s throat, held bloated for a fly, Balloons but warily from this throbbing perch. The needles and hack-saws of cactus bleed A milk of earth when stricken off the stalk; But this, ⎯ defenseless, thornless, sheds no blood, Almost no shadow ⎯ but the air’s thin talk. Angelic Dynamo! Ventriloquist of the Blue! While beachward creeps the shark-swept Spanish Main By what conjunctions do the winds appoint Its apotheosis, at last ⎯ the hurricane! || **‍The Air Plant Summary ‍** In his use of organic imagery, Hart Crane creates symbolic meaning in his poem, “The Air Plant.” Like many of his other poems, such as “Voyages,” nature and the power it holds attracts Crane. His interest in plants, however, is first explored in this poem. Crane employs one of his most beloved literary tools, imagery, once again. Yet, the imagery comes to hold a greater symbolic meaning. The subject of his poem, the air plant is merely a “tuft that thrives on saline nothingness,” an “inverted octopus” that needs air to survive (2-3). Yet, the air plant is different from other cactus plants, which have “milk of earth” (11). The air plant is described as “defenseless, thornless, sheds no blood” (12). After establishing all of this about the peculiar plant, Crane hails it as an “Angelic Dynamo! Ventriloquist of the Blue!” (14). Crane purposefully demonstrates the weakness of the plant, before than showing how it has its own power, highlighting the irony of nature. The weakness of the air plant gives it its power, “By what conjunctions do the winds appoint, Its apotheosis, at last ⎯ the hurricane!” (16-17). Crane suggests in the final line that the air plant may symbolize the poet through this hurricane, the storm appearing in several other Crane poems. The air plant depends on the air for life, whereas the poet is dependent upon the hurricane. In calling the hurricane the apotheosis, Crane demonstrates its divine qualities to the plant, and himself. A subtly provocative poem, “The Air Plant,” in the typical Crane style, relies heavily upon imagery for analytic might. In his admiration for nature, Crane respects the plant for its power, as well as the hurricane, which comes to hold greater meaning in Crane’s later poems. Evidence of Crane’s poetic development, “The Air Plant” represents some of Crane’s more notable work later in his career. || The bell-rope that gathers God at dawn Dispatches me as though I dropped down the knell Of a spent day - to wander the cathedral lawn From pit to crucifix, feet chill on steps from hell. Have you not heard, have you not seen that corps Of shadows in the tower, whose shoulders sway Antiphonal carillons launched before The stars are caught and hived in the sun's ray? The bells, I say, the bells break down their tower; And swing I know not where. Their tongues engrave Membrane through marrow, my long-scattered score Of broken intervals… And I, their sexton slave! Oval encyclicals in canyons heaping The impasse high with choir. Banked voices slain! Pagodas, campaniles with reveilles out leaping- O terraced echoes prostrate on the plain!… And so it was I entered the broken world To trace the visionary company of love, its voice An instant in the wind (I know not whither hurled) But not for long to hold each desperate choice. My word I poured. But was it cognate, scored Of that tribunal monarch of the air Whose thigh embronzes earth, strikes crystal Word In wounds pledged once to hope - cleft to despair? The steep encroachments of my blood left me No answer (could blood hold such a lofty tower As flings the question true?) -or is it she Whose sweet mortality stirs latent power?- And through whose pulse I hear, counting the strokes My veins recall and add, revived and sure The angelus of wars my chest evokes: What I hold healed, original now, and pure… And builds, within, a tower that is not stone (Not stone can jacket heaven) - but slip Of pebbles, - visible wings of silence sown In azure circles, widening as they dip The matrix of the heart, lift down the eye That shrines the quiet lake and swells a tower… The commodious, tall decorum of that sky Unseals her earth, and lifts love in its shower. || **The Broken Tower Summary** Torn between hope and despair, Hart Crane’s “The Broken Tower” reveals the self-destructive nature of the poet. One of his best and last works, Crane bears his spirit. The dominant symbol is the tower, more importantly, a broken tower. Therefore, the poet, synonymous with the tower, is a broken man, caught in the sacrifice of beauty. The first two stanzas are rich in the imagery of the tower itself. It is early morning, and the speaker walks on “the cathedral lawn,” his “feet chill on steps from hell” (3-4). Crane’s use of hell not only implies the misery of the poet, but also depicts the contrast with the spirituality symbolized by the cathedral. In the next three stanzas, Crane explains how the tower’s bells act as an inspiration; the bells “will break down their tower” in their release, thus revealing the poet’s self-destructive nature. (9) The bells of inspiration literally dominate the tower, and remind the poet of the “long scattered score of broken intervals” and of the “banked voices” (11-12). Acting as the center to “The Broken Tower,” stanza five describes Crane’s passion for poetry. Pondering his potential demise brought on by his inspiration, Crane has a moment of clarity in this stanza, realizing, “I entered the broken world, to trace the visionary company of love” (17-18). Detailing his desire to understand and find the “instant” voice of love that all of humanity seeks, Crane is vulnerable in his truth (19). Yet, despite this, the poem takes a sense of acceptance, as the poet realizes the “latent power” of poetry (28). Still, Crane seeks expression through “sweet mortality,” knowing his own fate (28). By struggling with the poetry that desperately seeks release from within him, the poet can find some hope from the suffering. Both a painful confession and liberating epiphany, Crane’s poem, “The Broken Tower,” is one of his most honest poems. Centering on poetic creation and inspiration, Crane is the broken tower itself, revealing the despair and hope he endures for his work. In his self-destructive nature, Crane’s creativeness thrives, revealing his naked spirit. || Performances, assortments, résumés— Up Times Square to Columbus Circle lights Channel the congresses, nightly sessions, Refractions of the thousand theatres, faces— Mysterious kitchens. . . . You shall search them all. Someday by heart you’ll learn each famous sight And watch the curtain lift in hell’s despite; You’ll find the garden in the third act dead, Finger your knees—and wish yourself in bed With tabloid crime-sheets perched in easy sight. Then let you reach your hat and go. As usual, let you—also walking down—exclaim to twelve upward leaving a subscription praise for what time slays. Or can’t you quite make up your mind to ride; A walk is better underneath the L a brisk Ten blocks or so before? But you find yourself Preparing penguin flexions of the arms,— As usual you will meet the scuttle yawn: The subway yawns the quickest promise home. Be minimum, then, to swim the hiving swarms Out of the Square, the Circle burning bright— Avoid the glass doors gyring at your right, Where boxed alone a second, eyes take fright —Quite unprepared rush naked back to light: And down beside the turnstile press the coin Into the slot. The gongs already rattle. And so of cities you bespeak subways, rivered under streets and rivers. . . . In the car the overtone of motion underground, the monotone of motion is the sound of other faces, also underground— “Let’s have a pencil Jimmy—living now at Floral Park Flatbush—on the fourth of July— like a pigeon’s muddy dream—potatoes to dig in the field—travlin the town—too— night after night—the Culver line—the girls all shaping up—it used to be—” Our tongues recant like beaten weather vanes. This answer lives like verdigris, like hair Beyond extinction, surcease of the bone; And repetition freezes—“What “what do you want? getting weak on the links? fandaddle daddy don’t ask for change—IS THIS FOURTEENTH it’s half past six she said—if you don’t like my gate why did you swing on it, why didja swing on it anyhow—” And somehow anyhow swing— The phonographs of hades in the brain Are tunnels that re-wind themselves, and love A burnt match skating in a urinal— Somewhere above Fourteenth TAKE THE EXPRESS To brush some new presentiment of pain— “But I want service in this office SERVICE I said—after the show she cried a little afterwards but—” Whose head is swinging from the swollen strap? Whose body smokes along the bitten rails, Bursts from a smoldering bundle far behind In back forks of the chasms of the brain,— Puffs from a riven stump far out behind In interborough fissures of the mind. . . ? And why do I often meet your visage here, Your eyes like agate lanterns—on and on Below the toothpaste and the dandruff ads? —And did their riding eyes right through your side, And did their eyes like unwashed platters ride? And Death, aloft,—gigantically down Probing through you—toward me, O evermore! And when they dragged your retching flesh, Your trembling hands that night through Baltimore— That last night on the ballot rounds, did you, Shaking, did you deny the ticket, Poe? For Gravesend Manor change at Chambers Street. The platform hurries along to a dead stop. The intent escalator lifts a serenade Stilly Of shoes, umbrellas, each eye attending its shoe, then Bolting outright somewhere above where streets Burst suddenly in rain. . . . The gongs recur: Elbows and levers, guard and hissing door. Thunder is galvothermic here below. . . . The car Wheels off. The train rounds, bending to a scream, Taking the final level for the dive Under the river— And somewhat emptier than before, Demented, for a hitching second, humps; then Lets go. . . . Toward corners of the floor Newspapers wing, revolve and wing. Blank windows gargle signals through the roar. And does the Daemon take you home, also, Wop washerwoman, with the bandaged hair? After the corridors are swept, the cuspidors— The gaunt sky-barracks cleanly now, and bare, O Genoese, do you bring mother eyes and hands Back home to children and to golden hair? Daemon, demurring and eventful yawn! Whose hideous laughter is a bellows mirth —Or the muffled slaughter of a day in birth— O cruelly to inoculate the brinking dawn With antennae toward worlds that glow and sink;— To spoon us out more liquid than the dim Locution of the eldest star, and pack The conscience navelled in the plunging wind, Umbilical to call—and straightway die! O caught like pennies beneath soot and steam, Kiss of our agony thou gatherest; Condensed, thou takest all—shrill ganglia Impassioned with some song we fail to keep. And yet, like Lazarus, to feel the slope, The sod and billow breaking,—lifting ground, —A sound of waters bending astride the sky Unceasing with some Word that will not die. . . ! A tugboat, wheezing wreaths of steam, Lunged past, with one galvanic blare stove up the River. I counted the echoes assembling, one after one, Searching, thumbing the midnight on the piers. Lights, coasting, left the oily tympanum of waters; The blackness somewhere gouged glass on a sky. And this thy harbor, O my City, I have driven under, Tossed from the coil of ticking towers. . . . Tomorrow, And to be. . . . Hereby the River that is East— Here at the waters’ edge the hands drop memory; Shadowless in that abyss they unaccounting lie. How far away the star has pooled the sea— Or shall the hands be drawn away, to die? Kiss of our agony Thou gatherest, O Hand of Fire gatherest— || The Tunnel Summary** With a sense of confusion, Hart Crane’s poem, “The Tunnel,” explains the loss of identity that comes from conformity through his subway ride. Beginning with two lines from William Blake’s “Morning,” Crane sets the tone for the rest of the piece. A man walks through the “Gates of Wrath,” suggesting spiritual rebirth to find the “western path,” symbolizing hope. Hope is all but absent from the remainder of “The Tunnel,” as it quickly turns to the speaker’s actions. The poet travels in the “congresses” from “Times Square to Columbus Circle,” establishing Crane’s favorite setting, New York City (2-3). Mentioning Columbus eludes back to the earlier work of Crane, in which he focuses on American history, particularly its beginnings. Among the masses, the poet wishes to “search them all” (5). The speaker is undoubtedly Crane himself, yet he is unsure of whether he should walk, or ride the subway. Deciding to be a “minimum,” Crane descends with the masses underground to ride the subway, feeling he will lose his sense of self (24). In the “underground,” the “monotone of motion” helps Crane see parts of the world, yet cannot see it in whole (36-37). Seized with the paralyzing feeling of loss, the speaker hears conversations, yet finds that they are “tunnels that re-wind themselves” (59). From there on, the poem becomes increasingly full of despair. Deciding the tunnel is a “Daemon” that eats up everything, Crane feels it is destroying his “conscience,” contributing to his loss of identity (113). Yet, Crane does find some hope in his suffering. As he feels the “slope” of the river and his ascension from under the river, he claims the “Word” will “not die” (122). Symbolizing his poetic creation, the “Word” literally acts as the light at the end of the subway tunnel (122). In the final lines, Crane is able to look to “tomorrow,” and overcome “the kiss of our agony” (136). Although much of “The Tunnel” is bleak, Crane’s precise symbolism and imagery explores not only his loss of self, but the hope of tomorrow. || How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of tumult, building high Over the chained bay waters Liberty-- Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes As apparitional as sails that cross Some page of figures to be filed away; --Till elevators drop us from our day. . . I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene Never disclosed, but hastened to again, Foretold to other eyes on the same screen; And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced As though the sun took step of thee, yet left Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,-- Implicitly thy freedom staying thee! Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets, Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning, A jest falls from the speechless caravan. Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks, A rip-tooth of the sky's acetylene; All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn. . . Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still. And obscure as that heaven of the Jews, Thy guerdon. . . Accolade thou dost bestow Of anonymity time cannot raise: Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show. O harp and altar, of the fury fused, (How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!) Terrific threshold of the prophet's pledge, Prayer of pariah, and the lover's cry,-- Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars, Beading thy path--condense eternity: And we have seen night lifted in thine arms. Under thy shadow by the piers I waited; Only in darkness is thy shadow clear. The City's fiery parcels all undone, Already snow submerges an iron year. . . O Sleepless as the river under thee, Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod, Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend And of the curveship lend a myth to God. || **To Brooklyn Bridge Summary** In his brutally beautiful imagery, Crane’s poem, “To Brooklyn Bridge” symbolizes the iconic landmark as liberty and life itself. Like “Voyages I,” Crane’s “To Brooklyn Bridge” is the first in a series of poems entitled “The Bridge.” Like many of Crane’s poems, imagery is very much present and active in this piece. Beginning with the image of a sea gull dancing above the bridge, the bird acts as “liberty” above the “bay waters” (4). The “inviolate curve” implies freedom to all who admire it instead of inspecting “page[s] of figures” (7). Crane comments on society’s preoccupation with the routine of every day and “figures” (7). Yet, the wings vanish, “apparitional as sails,” as the elevators “drop” workers away from this depiction of freedom down into their routine (6-8). The speaker sees the people as “multitudes bent toward some flashing scene,” addressing them with a mob mentality (10). The city dwellers follow the same routine, and ignore the glimpse of freedom seen in the seagulls and the majestic bridge, just “across the harbor” (13). The poet them directs his entire attention to the bridge in the fourth stanza. Creating a paradox, Crane’s speaker claims that the bridge has “some motion ever unspent in thy stride” (15). This perceived permanence is beautiful in a world of routine. Yet, the poet then turns his attention to a “bedlamite,” or a mentally ill individual, who reaches the bride’s “parapets” (18). The individual, driven mad by the ritualized nonsense of the city takes his own life by throwing himself off the bridge as “jest falls from the speechless caravan” below (20). The bedlamite seeks refuge in the bridge through his own death; the bridge in affect symbolizes liberty and life. After depicting the suicide of the city dweller, Crane moves on to “down wall,” presumably moving down into the city where the “cloud-flown derricks turn,” or the businessmen (21-23). This stark contrast between the bedlamite and the busy downtown creates a sharp disparity. Crane furthers this disparity by then describing the “North Atlantic” winds that “breathe” in the cables of the bridge (24). In his personification, Crane brings perspective to the rat race; the bridge is more human than the city’s inhabitants. In Crane’s final two stanza’s, the bridge again suggests freedom, as it did to the bedlamite in death. The speaker describes how the bridge crosses “sea” and “sod” (42), conveying a sense of human power. In most of his other works, such as “Voyages,” Crane mainly attests to the might of the nature and the sea, but in “Bridges,” he shifts this perspective. Whereas his literary tools are the same, particularly imagery and strong symbolism, Crane’s perspective changes in this series. || O rain at seven, Pay-check at eleven—— Keep smiling the boss away, Mary (what are you going to do?) Gone seven——gone eleven, And I'm still waiting you—— O blue-eyed Mary with the claret scarf, Saturday Mary, mine! It's high carillon From the popcorn bells! Pigeons by the million—— And Spring in Prince Street Where green figs gleam By oyster shells! O Mary, leaning from the high wheat tower, Let down your golden hair! High in the noon of May On cornices of daffodils The slender violets stray. Crap-shooting gangs in Bleecker reign, Peonies with pony manes—— Forget-me-nots at windowpanes: Out of the way-up nickel-dime tower shine, Cathedral Mary, shine!—— || **‍Virginia Summary**** ‍**** Through his powerful imagery, Hart Crane’s poem, “Virginia,” establishes the dominant symbol of women. Part of “Three Songs,” “Virginia” is the last poem in the series which shares common themes regarding woman and their innocence. Written in the latter part of Crane’s career, “Three Songs” exposes his long struggle with his sexuality and feelings towards the opposite sex. In “Virginia,” a secretary named Mary coyly flirts with her employer, “smiling the boss away” (3). Mary hints as at promiscuity, yet retains some innocence. Initially, Crane describes her as “blue-eyed” “with the claret scarf, Saturday Mary, mine!” (7-8). In commenting first on the woman’s physical appearance and claiming her as his own, the poet objectifies the secretary, implying her impurity. Following objectification, Mary is associated with “spring in Prince Street,” and is likened to flowers, “daffodils,” “slender violets,” “peonies” and “forget-me-nots” (12-22). In linking Mary to these flowers, which symbolize purity, Crane implies her innocence, contradicting himself. In the final lines, the poet imagines Mary in a “nickel-dime tower,” shining as “Cathedral Mary,” implying a reference to the Virgin Mary (23-24). Through these religious allusions, Crane strengthens the idea of the secretary’s purity. “Saturday Mary” becomes “Cathedral Mary” (8-24), shifting the reader’s perception. Throughout “Virginia,” and other Crane works like “To Brooklyn Bridge,” women evolves into a dominant symbol, exposing Crane’s struggle with his sexuality. || Above the fresh ruffles of the surf Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand. They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks, And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed Gaily digging and scattering. And in answer to their treble interjections The sun beats lightning on the waves, The waves fold thunder on the sand; And could they hear me I would tell them: O brilliant kids, frisk with your dog, Fondle your shells and sticks, bleached By time and the elements; but there is a line You must not cross nor ever trust beyond it Spry cordage of your bodies to caresses Too lichen-faithful from too wide a breast. The bottom of the sea is cruel. ................................................................................................ || **Voyages I Summary** With his depiction of the sea as both destructive and attractive, Hart Crane establishes a profound and respectful relationship with nature in his poem, “Voyages I.” Part of a six poem tale, “Voyages I” begins the series by describing children playing by the sea, “above the fresh ruffles of the surf” (1). It is the simplest of Crane’s Voyages series, but still heavy with symbolism and infused with deep themes. The group of boys, “bright striped urchins,” is oblivious of the dangers of the sea, “flay[ing] each other with sand” (2). They frolic in happy ignorance. As long as the boys keep their distance from the sea, they will survive. The ominous presence of the sea is certainly alive and present in Crane’s work, as is his respect for nature, seen in “My Grandmother’s Love Letters.” The sea is powerful and fatal, yet the poet is the only one who sees the entire picture; the boys on the beach are ignorant. The speaker is the only one who sees the truth. The children symbolize those who are unaware of impending danger until the actual threat is present; “in answer to their treble interjections” the “waves fold thunder on the sand” (6-8). The sense of danger and warning in “Voyages I” is very straightforward and presented by the power of nature. The speaker tells the “brilliant kids” to enjoy their “shells and sticks,” but to keep clear of the depths that could so easily drag them down and destroy them (10-11). Describing the sea as a woman with “too wide a breast,” Crane’s speaker claims the sea is loyal to only “lichen-faithful,” or those who live within it and off of it (15). The ocean is cruel to intruders, and takes them with her “caresses” (14). In his brutally beautiful description, Crane associates the sea with doom and the inevitability of death, seen in “Chaplinesque.” The poem culminates in the last line, coming to its climax by explicitly stating, “”the bottom of the sea is cruel” (16). Throughout “Voyages I,” Crane’s respect, fixation and fear of the sea and of nature is omnipresent. ||
 * **Poem** || **Analytical Summary** ||
 * **Chaplinesque** We make our meek adjustments,
 * **In Shad****ow**
 * **Legen****d**
 * **My Grandmother's Love** **Letter's**
 * **The Air Plant**
 * *** **The Broken Tower**
 * **The Tunnel**
 * **** **To Brooklyn Bridge**
 * **Virginia**
 * * **Voyages I**