Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

During Wind And Rain

They sing their dearest songs—
       He, she, all of them—yea,
       Treble and tenor and bass,
            And one to play;
      With the candles mooning each face. . . .
            Ah, no; the years O!
How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!

       They clear the creeping moss—
       Elders and juniors—aye,
       Making the pathways neat
            And the garden gay;
       And they build a shady seat. . . .
            Ah, no; the years, the years,
See, the white storm-birds wing across.

       They are blithely breakfasting all—
       Men and maidens—yea,
       Under the summer tree,
            With a glimpse of the bay,
       While pet fowl come to the knee. . . .
            Ah, no; the years O!
And the rotten rose is ript from the wall.

       They change to a high new house,
       He, she, all of them—aye,
       Clocks and carpets and chairs
          On the lawn all day,
       And brightest things that are theirs. . . .
          Ah, no; the years, the years; 
Down their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.
(Thomas Hardy, 1917)

Jean has kindly asked me to introduce During Wind And Rain as this week’s poem. I return to it often, as I found it to be a key to understanding Hardy after first being introduced to it 44 years ago. Here goes…

Hardy’s poetry was not formally on the undergraduate syllabus during my study years. His novels were part of the Victorian Literature offer though, and the university was fortunate enough to have modern literature scholar Professor Ronald Draper as Depute Head of English. I was lucky to have him as my tutor in my final year, and during our discussion of a submitted essay on Tess Of The d’Urbervilles, he introduced me to During Wind And Rain, saying that the Hardy’s outlook in Tess and other writings may be summed up in the poem.

Some notes and general thoughts to kick off the discussion:

There seems to be an echo of the ‘blighted star’, on which Tess Durbeyfield claims we live, in a key conversation with her brother. Can the poem be regarded as a distillation of the often bleak outlook of Hardy’s prose writing? That is, no matter what one does, the final destination is unavoidable and shared by all humans. It has been speculated that the poem outlines the life of his first wife Emma. Given that it was published in 1917, The Great War and the brevity of life may also have been on Hardy’s mind as he honed his verse to its final form.

It reads like a ballad rhythmically, and with its “Ah, no” refrain. I’m fairly certain that Hardy is emulating the Dorset song ballads he’d have known, and perhaps accompanied as a musician as a youth and young man. Country ballads throughout Great Britain, Ireland, and the British Isles are typically of a verse/refrain structure, and do, of course tell a story.

There is no complexity of structure, all stanzas are rigidly the same, with the “Ah no…” subtly changing in stanza two, and in the final refrain, giving emphasis to the poet’s almost-chilling final line. (I think Hardy may have intended “carved “ to be pronounced “car-vèd” for emphasis, and scansion).

The language is simple. The listing (and alliteration) of coveted household items, the ordering of musicians, the household pets, are examples intended to give a sense of the everyday. The ‘high new house” demonstrates progress, improvement, a possible increase in social standing. The stark alliterative “the rotten rose is ript from the wall” verges on violence in its deployment as an illustration of decay.

In “the raindrop ploughs”, Hardy chooses an unusual (for the poem’s setting) but highly-effective verb to describe the power of natural forces, beyond human capability, and of the inevitable destination of the race, a final Gothic flourish to underscore the last human experience we are bound to share, no matter what has been achieved during our fleeting earthly tenure.

The poem is available to listen to here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/5SynQL...

I’m looking forward to hearing fellow Hardians’ thoughts.

David

David, one of my early encounters with this poem was in Harold Bloom’s A Map of Misreading.

He briefly touched upon it in the introduction and wrote that it was as good as any poem written in the 20th century. That was quite an accolade and made me interested in studying it further.

Hi John, thanks for your comment. I’m afraid that Professor Bloom’s works had not yet entered the Scottish tertiary education system in the late 1970s. We were still being advised to read FR Leavis, Noam Chomsky, AC Bradley, Virginia Woolf et al back then. I must take a look at some of his output. If he rates During Wind And Rain, he sounds like a thinker with an interesting mind.

David wrote: "Hi John, thanks for your comment. I’m afraid that Professor Bloom’s works had not yet entered the Scottish tertiary education system in the late 1970s. We were still being advised to read FR Leavis..."

David,

Bloom was a fan of Hardy. He wrote a lot of books of criticism and discussion, and was a unique thinker when it came to classical works. He taught at Yale. In his later years, I found his books to be repetitive. I was not alone in this observation. It was as if he was writing the same book over and over.

I’d recommend How to Read and Why. It is an excellent and inspiring read about putting the classics to use in the every day.

Beautiful poem, I did not know it, thank you!

When I read this poem I see a lot of movement and activity.


They sing.
They clear moss.
They breakfast.
They move to a new house.

They are active people, alive, moving. And then comes a sudden and shocking thing: they are stilled. But perhaps not so shocking because with life comes death. The only movement now — the raindrops sliding past their names carved on headstones.

Thanks for choosing this poem David, and sharing all your insights :)

I find your ideas about how it relates to Tess Durbeyfield fascinating, and am sure we will explore this more as we begin reading Tess of the D'Urbervilles next month.

"During Wind And Rain" is so like a ballad, or song, as you say, and highly structured. That was the very first thing that struck me.

Reading it a few times, yes, I think it's fairly clear that it was written in memory of his first wife Emma Gifford, who had died at the end of 1912:



Portrait of Emma Gifford at "Max Gate"

Ironically and tragically Thomas Hardy seemed to fall in love with Emma all over again after her death, although he had neglected her quite severely, leaving her alone in her last illness. But he wrote a lot of love poetry to and about Emma afterwards, and some critics think it some of his best poetry.

"Given that it was published in 1917, The Great War and the brevity of life may also have been on Hardy’s mind as he honed his verse to its final form."

Yes, very much I think. Thomas Hardy is contrasting the happiness of his now dead wife’s childhood with the inevitability of time’s victory. As you point out there are four stanzas. In each stanza there are seven lines which describe different characteristics of Emma’s life with her family. We can learn quite a lot about their daily lives in this poem. But the final line of each stanza comes as a shock, each time condemning death and decay in life.

The cycle of seasons reminds me of Under the Greenwood Tree, a country idyll that is actually a happy book. But in every stanza there is a dark element - the sick leaves, the storm-bird, the rotten rose, the carved names, which must be on gravestones. In fact, I wondered if the whole thing was set in a graveyard, the pathways, the seat and so on. But then there are some indoor items like the clocks and carpets and chairs, so not literally all in one place, more a figurative juxtaposition of the everyday life and the inevitable destiny of death. However, personally this doesn't sound so bad - the people had music, friendship, beauties of nature, shared meals, and material comforts. And eventually we die, we all know that. In fact, the Greeks recommended keeping a skull around to remind yourself that life is limited and you should enjoy it now. But somehow, I don't think that is Hardy's viewpoint.

Robin P wrote: "The cycle of seasons reminds me of Under the Greenwood Tree, a country idyll that is actually a happy book ..."

It's time I read that one again - it's my least favourite novel by Thomas Hardy. Perhaps it just needed a more mature view than I could give it though.

David wrote: "Jean has kindly asked me to introduce During Wind And Rain as this week’s poem. I return to it often, as I found it to be a key to understanding Hardy after first being introduced to it 44 years ag..."

Thank you, David! I purchased the whole book on Kindle, but now I look forward to listening while also reading the poem you've presented here. I'm going to revisit this many times this morning (Tuesday morning here in Kansas City, Missouri) and will respond this afternoon.

Bionic Jean wrote: "Thanks for choosing this poem David, and sharing all your insights :)

I find your ideas about how it relates to Tess Durbeyfield fascinating, and am sure we will explore this more as we begin rea..." What rich insight into the author's life. I'll be reading the poem but also all of the thoughtful replies here. I'll be responding this afternoon (it's Tuesday here in my corner of the world). Thank you for the context!

John wrote: "When I read this poem I see a lot of movement and activity.


They sing.
They clear moss.
They breakfast.
They move to a new house.

They are active people, alive, moving. And then comes a sudden a..."

What a poignant reflection, John. Thank you.

David wrote: "During Wind And Rain

They sing their dearest songs—
       He, she, all of them—yea,
       Treble and tenor and bass,
            And one to play;
      With the candles mooning each face. . ..."

Wonderful choice of a poem!
I was struck immediately by a sense of ritual with singing --
songs of remembrance, birthday celebrations, religious services (forced or voluntary) -- and how these gatherings hold both beauty and painful memories at various times.

I found this complex interplay of emotions come through various times as I read: What do elders and juniors understand of each other? Do they look up together to watch "white storm-birds wing across" perhaps at the end of a day? * * * What does each house and each new visit to the garden reveal? I found myself imagining bright, warm-colored visions, but then come across or revisit the "sick leaves" and "rotten rose" and feel that pain again.

Robin P wrote: "The cycle of seasons reminds me of Under the Greenwood Tree, a country idyll that is actually a happy book. But in every stanza there is a dark element - the sick leaves, the storm-bi..."

Hello, Robin and Jean,
"Under The Greenwood Tree" is new to me. I love works with changing seasons or symbolic time of day. I always wonder what primal or innate rhythm exists in me because of this affinity. I'll add it to my list, but I'm dedicating a bit of time to re-reading "Tess" first (well, after I finish my current two books).

Jan - Just a note that we'll be reading "Tess" slowly together, so you're not expected to have read it before September, don't worry! I know each group on GR has their own way of doing it :)

(Please excuse the diversion David ...)

Bionic Jean wrote: "Thanks for choosing this poem David, and sharing all your insights :)

I find your ideas about how it relates to Tess Durbeyfield fascinating, and am sure we will explore this more as we begin rea..."

. . . the inevitability of time's victory . . . .
This phrase will stay with me throughout this afternoon.
Again, I enjoyed learning more of Hardy's life and longings while re-reading this.

On to tasks I go now!

Thanks for all the input. I have learned so much more from your insights, and I’m very pleased that the poem has been so well-received.

I am currently reading Robert Graves’ Good-Bye to All That: An Autobiography. There is a wonderful part where he visits Thomas Hardy after the war. Hardy tells him that he could write novels on a timetable, but poems came to him like an “accident.” Hardy also said he only wrote poems in a draft or two. He felt they would lose their freshness with too many drafts.

This thread remains current until the middle of the week, when it will be moved to "Poetry". Please feel free to comment with your thoughts!

Bionic Jean wrote: "Jan - Just a note that we'll be reading "Tess" slowly together, so you're not expected to have read it before September, don't worry! I know each group on GR has their own way of doing it :)

(Plea..."
Ah, thank you for that reassurance. (smile)

This is a wonderful discussion. My own take is that it is one of several/many Hardy wrote in which the past is idealized (a bit) in terms of creature comfort, human sympathy, and doing things that are a part of community: they sing, they clear, they breakfast (blithely!), and they move to a "high new house".

I see the possibility that they enjoyed their new digs and continued to sup in communal peace until the ravages of time turn them into names (perhaps on the funeral gravestones). They are seemingly oblivious to the passage of time or perhaps they are attuned to it. Or perhaps the new high house is some form of posthumous dormitory.

This is a lovely poem but Hardy rarely leaves us unaware of the dicing doomsters in the back ground.

Thank you so much for leading this poem, David. Great choice too!

You’re welcome. Thanks to everyone who contributed, adding further insights to my enjoyment of a favourite poem.

I loved reading everyone's thoughts on this one. Thanks David!

"And the rotten rose is ript from the wall."

It strikes me that a rotten rose is clipped off so that something new can grow; it is for the health of the plant. But ripped is such a harsh word - obviously it is not pleasant for the rose! Death is a part of the human condition, but it is not pleasant to die.

I like what you said Robin, "In fact, the Greeks recommended keeping a skull around to remind yourself that life is limited." Though of course, we all eventually reach a point where we hardly need the reminder.

Are death and decay entirely negative here? They are a violence (a reeling, a ripping, a storm); they are painful, for sure. But mostly what I feel in this poem is just the philosophical inevitability and deep sadness in the loss that all of us must eventually share.

This poem reminds me that death doesn't discriminate. Even those who are able to acquire all manner of brightest things are battling life (nature, time). We witness active efforts to carve a quality of life for themselves against specific aspects of nature's elements, or at least to hold them off. They lighted candles to banish the dark and at other times they cleared the creeping moss and hid from the sun under the summer tree. There is one aspect of nature none can escape and due to the period this was written in, after the high death toll of WW1, I choose to interpret this piece as a call to 'seize the day'.