The poem
All profits disappear: the gain Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum; And now grim digits of old pain Return to litter up our home.
We hunt the cause of ruin, add, Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn; For all our scratching on the pad, We cannot trace the error down.
What we are seeking is a fare One way, a chance to be secure: The lack that keeps us what we are, The penny that usurps the poor.
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This poem has a tone of pessimism to it. The poet describes how his old pain once again invades his family and thoughts.The poem is indeed materialstic talking about the greed one has for things, which once when eventually acheived makes you crave for more. "We hunt the cause of our ruin", rothke describes how one reflects back on what could have been the cause for this unsual position is. Its like, we think, why?…
Read the whole commentThis poem has a tone of pessimism to it. The poet describes how his old pain once again invades his family and thoughts.The poem is indeed materialstic talking about the greed one has for things, which once when eventually acheived makes you crave for more.
"We hunt the cause of our ruin", rothke describes how one reflects back on what could have been the cause for this unsual position is. Its like, we think, why? why has this happened to us? Where has it all started from?.
The last stanza just explains how each of us want a fare share of materislistic things(money) and how we all need the feeling of security to embrace us. He talks of the philosophy of life. Finally-were not satisified. We want more.