The poem
Always too eager for the future, we Pick up bad habits of expectancy. Something is always approaching; every day Till then we say,
Watching from a bluff the tiny, clear Sparkling armada of promises draw near. How slow they are! And how much time they waste, Refusing to make haste!
Yet still they leave us holding wretched stalks Of disappointment, for, though nothing balks Each big approach, leaning with brasswork prinked, Each rope distinct,
Flagged, and the figurehead wit golden tits Arching our way, it never anchors; it's No sooner present than it turns to past. Right to the last
We think each one will heave to and unload All good into our lives, all we are owed For waiting so devoutly and so long. But we are wrong:
Only one ship is seeking us, a black- Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her back A huge and birdless silence. In her wake No waters breed or break.
This is such a characteristic poem from Larkin, ie it is depressing.
This poem isnt depressing at all. any sort of gambling is in fact addictive. Think about how many people gamble their lives, waste their time without realizing they are flushing down their opportunities, hoping to win, expecting their lives to change for the better if only they could gain the money. sadly they always end up disappointed. money isnt everything neither is materials. so why rely on them to make us happy? its not like we'll be taking everything with us to our graves when we die.
True, this is a depressing poem, if you take it that way. When I first read it some years ago, it seemed like an irrefutable comment on life. How many times haven't we felt that we are waiting (oh so long) for the good things to happen and when they do they are never as fulfilling in the realisation as they are in the promise. And yes, the greatest certainty is death, the one thing that we are not waiting for but…
Read the whole commentTrue, this is a depressing poem, if you take it that way. When I first read it some years ago, it seemed like an irrefutable comment on life. How many times haven't we felt that we are waiting (oh so long) for the good things to happen and when they do they are never as fulfilling in the realisation as they are in the promise. And yes, the greatest certainty is death, the one thing that we are not waiting for but which is inevitably seeking us, after which there is nothing -- not even disappointment.
But reading it now, I can see another side. While the poem seems to speak of inevitability, it doesn't have to be that way:
"Always too eager for the future, we
Pick up bad habits of expectancy."
The poet speaks fo the 'bad habits' of expectancy. To break the inevitability of the poem, we have to break the bad habit of living for the next wonderful thing in our lives. We must live in the present, enjoying our lives as we live them. It is no use pinning our lives on some future event, which only disappoints us when it comes and sets us hoping for the next future event.
So I take the poem as a warning not to live your life pining for the future. If you live your life taking each moment as it comes, the richness of a well-lived life will leave you psychologically prepared for the inevitable time of death, when the black-sailed ship comes seeking us.
Life is meaningless and death terrifying -- if you live your life that way. That is the lesson of this popem.
This is in some ways a gloomy poem, which never fails to send a shiver down my spine. But it is beautifully written, and also funny (rhyming "tits" with "it's"!) and can probably be read as advice to eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.
One observation I would make is that this poem wraps things up rather quickly. Still, I think it's a fine poem and am struck by the ludicrous, mocking image of our personal treasure ship coming into dock. Only Emily Dickinson is more morbid, but I love the eloquence, precision and dry English humor -- er, humour -- with which Larkin defines our predicament. If he weren't a poet he could have been a lawyer. He is…
Read the whole commentOne observation I would make is that this poem wraps things up rather quickly. Still, I think it's a fine poem and am struck by the ludicrous, mocking image of our personal treasure ship coming into dock.
Only Emily Dickinson is more morbid, but I love the eloquence, precision and dry English humor -- er, humour -- with which Larkin defines our predicament. If he weren't a poet he could have been a lawyer. He is also very compassionate though that doesn't come through in this poem so much. What I can't understand is why so many people throw their lives away quickly and effortlessly, as do young people who join a band of rebels and get shot or join a rock band commit suicide. Isn't it better to drag things out? That's always been my approach.
Help
Guys, I need you help. How can we analyze a poem like this one and what is the imagery used and their meaning.? Please, please..
Literature
For me this poem is simply warning that what man expect from future is a futile exercise because death is next which pleases your soul.
english
the poem deals with two themes one is death and other is wishes or hopes of a person.there lies a error in human nature of hoping something good happen to them in future and neglecting the present .this is a bad habit of keeping their brains preoccupied with future plans.they go on continuing this course till their lives are taken by death.this indicates that they do not achieve succees,they remain neutral IN their whole life,they go on waste and haste