The Influence of Women-Sarah Stickney Ellis

When I read Sarah Ellis's thoughts on the position she felt women should have in society, I was initially appalled. How dare she side with men, in seeing women as inferior creatures whose only care in the world should be how better to serve!

"It is not to be presumed that women possess more power than men;.....who yet possess so clear a sense of the right and wrong of individual actions, as to be of essential in aiding the judgments of their husbands, brothers, or sons, in those intricate affairs in which it is sometimes difficult to dissever worldly wisdom from religious duty." (p 557)

As I began to read more, I looked beyond the surface of what she was saying and saw the power and unseen ability to change the world that she viewed women had. Sara Ellis believed in the "sixth sense" that many women claim to posses. The ability to know or sense that someone means us no good, that a situation doesn't feel right or that someone is lying to us. Ask any woman whose husband has been unfaithful, and she'll most likely say she sensed something was wrong. Sara Ellis was in tuned to a gift so treasured by her, that she wondered if it was heaven sent. Sure she had some opposition from the "burn your bra or corset women", but she stood firm in what she believed.

"....While his integrity was shaken, and his resolution gave way beneath the pressure of apparent necessity, or the insidious pretences of expediency, he has stood corrected before the clear eye of woman, as it looked directly to the naked truth, and detected the lurking evil of the specious act he was about to commit. Nay, so potent may have become this secret influence, that he may have borne it about with him like a kind of second conscience..." (557)

Wise women, young and old, are aware of the daily pressures men face. They can acknowledge this without feeling like they are minimizing their own challenges. Some women won't admit it but I will. We expect men to make more money than us, protect us, keep the house out of foreclosure, save for our future, and to continue going to the job that they hate, just because it brings home six figures. Even if we did want to hear it, men aren't going to tell you that in order to keep things afloat, he was tempted to take that bribe at work, cheat the little old lady out of her investments, or put a want ad in the paper for some male "Indecent Proposals" (remember the movie?). I agree with Sara Ellis that one of the reasons our men do not succumb to the temptations is that, they to, are aware of our "sixth sense". When they come home from work and reply that their day was fine, they are secretly hoping that they are looking convincing enough that you can not detect the evil that they wanted to do, but didn't. As they recline in their easy chair, they replay how they overcame the challenges of yet another day and pat themselves on the back thinking "what great morals and values I must have". All the while, she's in the kitchen patting herself on the back for keeping the "holy duty of cherishing and protecting the minor morals of life, from whence springs all that is elevated in purpose, and glorious in action." (558)

I Wake and Feel the Fell of Dark, Not Day - Gerald Hopkins

Dr. Glance says to interpret the poems as we see them, so I'm going to give this a shot. When I read it, it spoke to me as a lovers quarrel that never seems to end. I imagine an argument that went well into the night and finally the couple turns in.

"I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent this night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went! and more must, in yet longer light's delay." (778 1-4) The woman has slept so hard from exhaustion that she is sure it has to be the next day. She closes her eyes again and thinks over the painful things that were said. She feels the hurt that penetrated her heart to the point that it seems her heart was an outsider viewing in disbelief at the things it saw. She's dreading the morning, for fear the argument will begin again.

"But where I say hours, I mean years, mean life. And my lament is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent to dearest him that lives alas! away." (5-8) Have you ever been in a relationship that has been so emotionally draining that each fight seems to last for days or years? I don't mean literally, but some words hurt so bad that, long after the fight is over, they still have life. Sometimes the tears you shed are because of your inescapable present, and sometimes they're for the pain of losing the good one that got away.

"Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see the lost are like this, and their scourge to be as I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse." (12-14) This women is saying that the heat from hell looks better than where she's sitting. Often when a relationship goes bad, you look for some glimmer of hope. You keep telling yourself, he or she will "come around". Although it's good to not give up on the ones you love, you may one day have to take off your rose-tinted glasses and move on.

Thoughts on My Sick-Bed- Dorothy Wordsworth

This poem was such an inspiration for me. Dorothy Wordsworth was bedridden for 20yrs. She had every reason to be depressed, bitter and angry at the world. But instead she takes the time to think about the beautiful Spring day that has arrived. "And has the remnant of my life been pilfered of this sunny Spring?"(p293 1,2)) "Ah! say not so-the hidden life Couchant within this feeble frame hath been enriched by kindred gifts, that, undesired, unsought-for, came" (p293 5-8) Though she terms her current state as her "hidden life", she reflects on the many blessings she has been given over the years.
We many not know anyone in such an awful condition as Dorothy, but we all know someone who complains of their situations, rather than enjoying what life has to offer and being thankful for past blessings. A friend passed away a few years ago. He was diagnosed with AIDS about 8 years before. Although he was never bedridden, he was in and out of the hospital many times. I have never seen anyone with such an upbeat, happy personality. He was the life of the party and everyone enjoyed being around him. Dorothy must have given off that same energy and zest for life because her friends didn't forget about her. "When loving Friends and offering brought, the first flowers of the year, culled from the precincts of our home, from nooks to Memory dear." (33-36)
We all have our ups and down in life but it is our choice as to how we deal with it. We can take on the "whoa is me" attitude or we can reminisce on the beauty of the past and look forward to what lies ahead. "With busy eyes I pierced the lane in quest of known and unknown things, -The primrose a lamp on its fortress rock, the silent butterfly spreading its wings, ."(13-16)

Elizabeth Browning -Sonnets from the Portuguese

This series of sonnets were from poems Elizabeth Browning wrote during her courtship with Robert Browning. Elizabeth was forbidden by her father to date or marry and I believe the secrecy made it that much more exciting. She recounts each of her first 3 kisses from Robert, almost describing them like a sweet treat that you savor each bite of. "First time he kissed me, he but only kissed the fingers of this hand wherewith I write, and ever since, it grew more clean and white," (p532 1-4) I imagine him holding her hands gently as he brushes her fingers with his lips, unsure of her response since this was the first time.
"The second passed in height the first, and sought the forehead, and half missed, half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!"(7-9) I think "O beyond meed" in today's terms would mean, "Oh my gosh!" It doesn't say whether minutes or days passed before this second kiss, but I can just feel her anticipation and subsequent surprise to know that it could get any better.
"The third upon my lips was folded down in perfect, purple state; since when, indeed, I have been proud and said, 'My love, my own.' "(12-14) At last it seems she has gotten the full effect of his affections. No longer teasingly upon the hands and forehead, he goes in for the lips so passionately that she feels as though her lips are folding down and turning purple. (Well I don't think that's what she meant, but it sounds good to me.:)
And finally she can no longer hold back her feelings and utters that 4 letter word that some men think has a ball and chain attached to it...love. I'm just glad Robert Browning didn't.

Porphyria's Lover- Robert Browning

Wow is the word that comes to mind when reading this poem. It's starts out like love story and ends in tragedy.
This poem reminds me of women who have been so hurt in past relationships that they put up a wall to protect their feelings or they avoid relationships altogether. Porphyria was so deeply in love with the story's narrator but had been reluctant to reveal her feelings and act upon them. "Murmuring how she loved me-she too weak, for all her heart's endeavor, to set its struggling passion free, from pride, and vainer ties dissever, and give herself to me for ever." (p.663 21-25) But sometimes Cupid's arrow has a way of penetrating our walls and we finally give in to the person we perceive we can trust to return the love. Porphyria , as most determined women, would not let rain, wind, or fallen trees deter her once she decided to give love a chance. "But passion sometimes would prevail...so, she come through wind and rain." (26,30)
The narrator was obviously head over heals in love because although the rain storm had to be quiet noisy, he "listened with heart fit to break." (p. 662, 5) But when she comes in, he acts as though he was not aware of her presence. This reminds me of my teenage dating days, when I would sit by the window looking down the road to see when my date was coming. Then I would go to my room, so my mom would have to call for me when he arrived.
The narrator seems to have been seeking the love and attention of Porphyria for quite sometime and may have never gotten over the rejection, especially since he didn't know how she really felt. "Be sure I looked up at her eyes happy and proud; at last I knew Porphyria worshipped me; surprise made my heart swell, and still it grew while I debated what to do." (p. 663, 31-35 ) Now that he finally got her where he wants her, it seems instead of returning the love and affection, he relishes in it, then punishes her for not showing it sooner. "That moment she was mine, mine, fair, perfectly pure and good: I found a thing to do, and all her hair in one long yellow string I wound three times her little throat around, and strangled her." (36-40)

THE WIDOW

Have you ever wondered what happened to the homeless person you passed on the streets? Well, this poem caused me to think about the hopelessness they must feel every day. Like many of today’s homeless society, The Widow was not always living in this state. For she exclaims;

Once I had friends-but they have all forsook me!
Once I had parents-they are now in heaven!
I had a home once-I had once a husband-
Pity me, strangers! (p. 72)

The widow feels she has been forsaken by her friends. Could it be that she chose a lifestyle that conflicted with the morals and values of those around her? I’ve heard of educated homeless people, who come from good families, but somehow ended up like the widow, asking for pity. And when we hear their cries, or see their outstretched hands asking for change, do we pretend we didn’t hear or see as in the poem “loud blew the wind, unheard was her complaining; on drove the chariot”. (p. 72)

We often think of people becoming homeless because of drug addiction or because they were just too lazy to keep a job. Could it be that life dealt her some harsh blows that she just couldn’t bounce back from? What if her husband’s death contributed to her lack of desire to live a full and prosperous life? I’ve certainly heard of both men and women, who because of the loss or separation of a loved one, gave up on their will to live. They stopped being productive on their jobs, which lead to dismissal. They lost their desire to socialize with others and eventually found themselves alone and unable to sustain an independent life.

The next time I happen upon a beggar, I’ll hesitate to assume the road he’s traveled, but instead, hope that his cries of pity, won’t continually fall on deaf ears.

SIMON LEE (THE OLD HUNTSMAN)

When I read this poem, I thought about a group of societies most forgotten…our senior citizens. Simon Lee was praised by Wordsworth for being a man of substance, strength and character. He worked as a huntsman for 25 years, a job that left him blinded in one eye. He was considered the poorest of the poor, with a small house and little land. In spite of his circumstances, he still had cheeks like cherries (p.197), which I envision as a happy, jolly countenance. Wordsworth speaks of Simon Lee as a man to be admired when commenting that “no man like him the horn could sound….and He all the country could out run, could leave both man and horse behind”(p. 198). If you ever take the time out to talk to the elderly, you’ll likely hear stories of great accomplishments and victories that they once relished in, that now seem to be of less relevance to anyone.

Simon Lee was childless, but had an equally hardworking wife, Ruth who “works out of doors with him” (p198). Although he is in poor health, he will be the first to tell you he has years of life left, like so many of our elderly. I, like Wordsworth, love the spirit of the elderly, for they have a drive for independence and don’t mind taking on a task that outsiders already know is impossible. This is evident in Simon Lee, when he tries to tackle an old rotten tree stump. Although failure was not in his blood, he knew when to accept help. As I was shopping the other day, I overheard an elderly lady, stating that she couldn’t find her walking stick and may have left it in the store next door. As she mentioned it again “to herself”, I knew she was too embarrassed to ask for help, so I offered to look next door. As I returned with her walking stick, the look of relief on her face was rewarding. As we go through life, we should take time to not only honor and respect the elderly, but to lend a helping hand, as Wordsworth did, when the opportunity arises.