A Virginal
No, no! Go from me. I have left her lately.
I will not spoil my sheath with lesser brightness,
For my surrounding air hath a new lightness;
Slight are her arms, yet they have bound me straitly
And left me cloaked as with a gauze of æther;
As with sweet leaves; as with subtle clearness.
Oh, I have picked up magic in her nearness
To sheathe me half in half the things that sheathe her.
No, no! Go from me. I have still the flavour,
Soft as spring wind that’s come from birchen bowers.
Green come the shoots, aye April in the branches,
As winter’s wound with her sleight hand she staunches,
Hath of the trees a likeness of the savour:
As white their bark, so white this lady’s hours.
— Ezra Pound
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I thought of this poem while at work, since it's one I always thought was superb, at least for its technique and beauty of language, albeit it's from his early period where he was writing in a very outmoded, high style.
There are many interpretations of this sonnet, all kinds of analysis available to read with a few clicks. I read several, and the one that I decided to share is from a blog whose author is no-one I know or have heard of. Their first name is Ashok (male or female? No idea), and they are (or were at the time of writing this I assume) a "graduate student in political science". The author of the following commentary admits to being "creeped out" by this poem, and offers what I think is accurate in some ways - and similar to other interpretations - but also over the top in suggesting that the subject of the poem is dying. I didn't see this interpretation in any other commentary on the poem. Not saying it's not out there, just didn't read it.
Here's the commentary (I would just link to it but I
just noticed only last night the big warning about putting links in this forum. I assume this warning is still in effect, though it was put there in 2011? I've gone through my many posts here and deleted a whole slew of links. Sorry, Boss!):
Quote:
A virginal was a small keyboard instrument played by young girls in the 16th & 17th centuries. Consider that, as well as this being a Petrarchan sonnet, and also that our narrator used the word “sheath.” All of those factors conspired to remind this reader of some swashbuckling type dude wearing tights and bright colors and having a sword, which he would use, of course, when his opponent broke into open laughter at his get-up.
I didn’t think of all those “romantic” Renaissance associations the first time I read this poem, though. There seems to be a rather dark sexuality at work here instead.
The word “virginal” has something to do with being a virgin, with purity and innocence. If we take “sheath” not to be part of a sword metaphor, but rather the human sheath, the skin, then what our narrator has is the glow that is emanating from his skin, or maybe his facial expression, at that moment. The “lightness” of the air he breathes, he claims, has caused that. It could be that the narrator is a guy in love, and that’s it. People do feel and look different when they’re in love.
But I feel like I’m describing a person after intercourse as I write this stuff. At the same time, I’m pretty sure his narrator didn’t have sexual intercourse with the girl who has bound him with her “slight arms,” the “magic” in her “nearness,” and the image of spring she evokes.
Actually, I know he didn’t have sex with her. “To sheath me half in half the things that sheathe her” is our first clue: there is no unity of the couple physically, even in metaphor here. He’s picked up “magic” in her “nearness,” that’s all, and hence only “half” of him is sheathed.
Secondly, our narrator is screaming at someone – probably another woman – to go away. How exactly has the virgin girl bound him that he cannot be in the presence of another? She is white like a birch tree, and he sees her “springness” staunching winter – he finds her a spring that actively stops coldness. It is her whiteness which connects her with winter, though, not just the birches. Her hours being white is the part that creeps me out the most; her delicateness and white complexion suggest that she is about to die, that the color of life has drained from her, and that this death is something he loves her for.
After all, her “death” is the loss of her virginity. What is creating the tension in the narrator’s voice throughout the poem is that he is bound to love something pure, but his own love is something less than pure: he’s not going to let her stay pure. She is the “spring” to his winter, after all, and the only way he can transcend his coldness is by residing within that spring. So far, all he’s getting, by his own account, is a whiff of the air – we can perhaps see that greenery and sweet leaves seem to be things that flavor the air, and nothing more. [emphasis mine]
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I hate to say it, but this only increases my often-voiced concerns about just what goes on in college and university classrooms.
I will admit, the poem
can be seen as rather sexist, if one want to see it that way: N seems, at least to my understanding of the poem, to have just come from a sexual rendezvous with a young woman, a virgin, or "virginal" it would seem, and is telling another person - I agree that it could be a woman, but it could be anyone - to stay clear because he doesn't want his experience spoiled by contact with someone less "pure". The above commentator seems to think N has not had sex with this young woman, but it seems to me that the mention of his "sheath" in L2 is pretty clear. Perhaps not.
This poem appeared in 1912, and may have been written earlier, but the oldest Pound could have been when he wrote the poem is 27. And there is no mention of how old the subject is. And he refers to her as a "lady", not a girl.
No matter what the details, the poem is devotional, and is clearly worshipful of this "lady". But then again, many readers are creeped out by it. Pound's silly political views certainly don't help.
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As for Ronsard,
Julie - from what you've told me, I don't think you need to retract your statement
at all. In fact, it seems to be an apt summing up of the man's attitude towards women. And he seems to have obviously had a rather unsavory fetish for
young women. But, like I said, I haven't read him, and know zilch about him.
And he came from a different world.
If he had been born in certain parts of Africa, or some other region where human female breasts are not obsessed over by males, he wouldn't have been fascinated by breasts at all, I don't suppose. ?
Edited in: Hey, Julie, I clicked on the Lewis link, then clicked another, and discovered that I'm heterosocial. Cool! A new label for me:
Quote:
The term heterosocial can refer to either:
an individual who prefers to befriend or socialize with the opposite sex, as opposed to homosocial (preferring same-sex social relations) or bisocial (enjoying social relations with both sexes - Wikipedia [emphasis mine to mean: me]
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