D. H.

Lawrence
Snake
A snake came to my water-trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat, To drink there. In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree I came down the steps with my pitcher And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before me. He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of the stone trough And rested his throat upon the stone bottom, i o And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness, He sipped with his straight mouth, Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body, Silently. Someone was before me at my water-trough, And I, like a second comer, waiting. He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do, And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do, And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment, And stooped and drank a little more, Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking. The voice of my education said to me He must be killed, For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous. And voices in me said, If you were a man You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off. But must I confess how I liked him, How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless, Into the burning bowels of this earth? Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured? I felt so honoured. And yet those voices: If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid, But even so, honoured still more That he should seek my hospitality From out the dark door of the secret earth. He drank enough And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken, And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black, Seeming to lick his lips, And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air, And slowly turned his head, And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream, Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face. And as he put his head into that dreadful hole, And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther, A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole, Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after, Overcame me now his back was turned. I looked round, I put down my pitcher, I picked up a clumsy log And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter. I think it did not hit him, But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste. Writhed like lightning, and was gone Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front, At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination. And immediately I regretted it. I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act! I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education. And I thought of the albatross And I wished he would come back, my snake. For he seemed to me again like a king, Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld, Now due to be crowned again. And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords Of life. And I have something to expiate: A pettiness.

Poem 1: Snake by D.H Lawrence a) The poet frequently uses repetition: i) Stanza 1: On a hot,hot day ii) Stanza 5: as cattle do iii) Stanza 6: the black, black snakes iv) Stanza 11: I was truly afraid, I was most afraid v) Stanza 12: slowly, very slowly vi) Stanza 13: A sort of...A sort of vii) Stanza 18: Like a king...Like a king b) There is no rhyme scheme. The rhythm is slow in stanza 12 but picks us in stanza 14. c) The author uses Enjambment, Personification, ALliteration and ASsonance i) Strange-scented shade AL ii) for he was there at the trough before me P iii) slackness soft-bellied down AL iv) long body AS v) flickered...forked...from AL vi) mused a moment AL vii) bowels of the earth P viii) peaceful, pacified AL ix) dark door AL x) Seeming to lick his lips P xi) uncrowded underworld AL xii) Enjambment is present as the poet frequently runs over lines. d) The constant <s> sound reminds the readers of the slithering of a snake. e) The poet uses dense imagery at certain points of the poem. He uses similes and metaphors. Lawrence's "Snake": An Analysis In his poem "Snake," DH Lawrence examines the conflict between education, or accepted attitudes, and the desires the people often hold. The poem develops around the speaker's unexpected meeting with a snake. Fear and fascination take control as he is left with the internal struggle between rational and his natural feelings. It highlights the difference between our natural feelings and what is socially acceptable or learned. The narrator "knows" that the snake is dangerous because in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous. His education tells him that he should destroy the snake, but he can't. He doesn't want to harm it because he liked him and was glad he had come like a guest in the quiet. But the symbolism of the snake cannot be ignored and suggests that Lawrence may have been exploring something other than simply this snake. Associated with evil and Satan, the snake assumes a more ominous meaning. Lawrence uses a repetition and imagery to show that it is a really hot day. The snake has from the burning bowels of the earth and Lawrence uses simile to say it is Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld." The poem seems to reveal not only that Lawrence is attracted to the animal, but also that humans are naturally attracted to evil and corruption. In the end, his education prevails and the speaker throws at the snake. However, he immediately regrets it and thinks himself paltry, vulgar, and mean. Immediately he despises himself for his action and feels a need to make amends.

Epigrams: On my First Son

BY BEN JONSON Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy. Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O, could I lose all father now! For why Will man lament the state he should envy? To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage, And if no other misery, yet age? Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say, "Here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry." For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much.

Poem 7: On My First Son by Ben Jonson

The poem is an elegy: a dedication to his late son. He mourns while writing the poem. Goodbye, my closest child! He had expected too much out of his child, and as a result, the child is no more. He writes the poem in honor of his son. Jonson writes about his son as though he were a seven-year loan which was never meant for this world. He has repaid his debt in a painful way. It was the sons fate t o be alive only for a short span of seven years. He changes his tone while lamenting the fact that he is no longer a father. He doesnt feel sad of the dead. Instead, he envies them as they do not go through all the sorrows of life, and they have escaped the difficult task of growing old. He describes his innocent and sinless son as his best creation. The sons name is his best legacy. Moreover, from now on, he vows to his late son that he will never be attached.
On My First Son, Ben Jonson

1. The poets son, a young boy, has died. 2. It seems unlikely that the poet truly wishes for death. Death is the only escape from the cares of the world, the sin mentioned in the poem, but while its role as final peace is respected, it is not genuinely longed for by most. 3. The child himself is his [fathers] best piece of poetry (line 10). The two imperfect rhymes both come when the poet is speaking more directly of death; death may destroy all human achievements, but a fathers perfect love for his son is an immortal thing.

4. The boy is seven years old when he dies (Seven years thou wert lent to me [line 3]); the speaker seems to long for death, saying that at least his son has scaped worlds and fleshs rage (7) and will never grow old. 5. Several phrases establish this poem as an elegy: Farewell, thou child (line 1); [l]oved boy (2); [r]est in soft peace (9); [h]ere doth lie (9). In the last two lines, the poet seems to promise himself that he will never love this deeply again, as the loss of such a love is too painful to bear. 6. The poet may be referring to his sons tombstone; if anyone wants to see who is buried beneath, they will consult the inscription: Here doth lie / Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry (lines 9-10) (Ben being the name of both father and son). It does not seem clear when the speaker expects anyone to wonder who is buried in his sons grave, but a memorial of this kind could be legible for hundreds of years. 7. The speaker seems to want to be comforted by the fact that his son has escaped the difficulties that come with age, but does not succeed. The title strongly implies that he will have other children, and if he truly thought it a blessing that his son didnt make it to puberty, he surely would take pains not to have children in the future.