Whoa, Mr. Rossetti, Whoa!


Never have i felt the chills after analyzing a poem then the one called “Silent Noon” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Read the poem and then read my analysis.

Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,–
…The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
…Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
‘Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.

All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
…Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
…Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.
‘Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.

Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:–
…So this wing’d hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
…When twofold silence was the song of love.

“Silent Noon”, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, is a short sonnet that is simple yet eloquent in telling of two lovers on a summer afternoon. Found in the book called “The House of Life,” a collection of poems he wrote about In this poem I imagine them lying together in the grass, he absorbed in her beauty: “Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass”, he says “The finger-points look through like rosy blooms: Your eyes smile peace.” He describes her hand stretched out and lying lazily in the grass with the fingers spread apart as beautiful as roses arising up out of the ground. It is as if this field was meant for them,
“The pasture gleams and glooms ‘Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass. All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.”
Around their “nest,” they are surrounded by beautiful flowers glowing in the noonday sun. “’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.” And they cannot speak, for their love silences all around them. “Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: — So this wing’d hour is dropt to us from above.” I get the picture of angels tying insects such as the dragonfly or butterflies and bees to strings and dropping them down from heaven and romantically dangling them around the two. And then comes the most beautiful lines:
“Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.”
This love; this moment; it is too overwhelming. Life stops. Time forgotten. The only thing there was were they.

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