Ragged Island
There, there where those black spruces crowd
To the edge of the precipitous cliff,
Above your boat, under the eastern wall of the island;
And no wave breaks; as if
All had been done, and long ago, that needed
Doing; and the cold tide, unimpeded
By shoal or shelving ledge, moves up and down,
Instead of in and out;
And there is no driftwood there, because there is no beach;
Clean cliff going down as deep as clear water can reach;
No driftwood, such as abounds on the roaring shingle,
To be hefted home, for fires in the kitchen stove;
Barrels, banged ashore about the boiling outer harbour;
Lobster-buoys, on the eel-grass of the sheltered cove:
There, thought unbraids itself, and the mind becomes single.
There you row with tranquil oars, and the ocean
Shows no scar from the cutting of your placid keel;
Care becomes senseless there; pride and promotion
Remote; you only look; you scarcely feel.
Even adventure, with its vital uses,
Is aimless ardour now; and thrift is waste.
Oh, to be there, under the silent spruces,
Where the wide quiet evening darkens without haste
Over a sea with death acquainted, yet forever chaste.
Well I think its great anyway. I dont know if it is a controversial choice for Mastery. Partly end rhymned, not quite metrical the quietening effect of the reflection is reflected in the smoothing out of both of these aspects in the last 5 or 6 lines, leaving a feeling of peace. The address to you sucks in the reader, the repition of there with hypnotic effect, the close observation and commitment to a loved place all work, but mostly I love the way it sounds.
What I think is most interesting technically is that it starts less iambic and works toward more metrical for a calming effect. I don't know why a poem needs to be metrical or not (I occasionally try to vary more or less metrical for effect).
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