Like the first fence post sunk into soil here lies my blog beginnings. Here I plan to post poetry drafts in order to chronicle my creative progress. To start of here is the namesake poem for this blog:
Fragment 113
-for Jayne
Mete moi meli mete melissa.
Neither the honey nor the bee for me. --Sappho
Love is easy
in the not yet
given apple, in
the bee
before the sting,
in the honey-
limbed melody
before the song.
Neither neither neither,
for me,
nor not knowing,
knotted muscles, and not
unknotted strings
like yarns strung,
snags in a knitted hat
coming undone, where
the stinging winter
wind can wind
through.
I am not stung.
I am not
under the
water like honey
buoyant and thick
to which boy and ant are
attracted, by which want
wants what it will
but moves so
slowly, striving. For
neither neither nor
flowers, please.
For me? Neither bee
nor being nor becoming
more neither the apple
nor the
core.
(I wrote this while analyzing H.D.'s poem Fragment 113
Explication #3 - Fragment 113 by HD)
Fragment 113
“Neither the honey nor the bee for me.” --Sappho
Not honey,
not the plunder of the bee
from the meadow or sand-flower
or the mountain bush;
from winter-flower or shoot
born of the later heat:
not honey; not the sweet
stain on the lips and teeth:
not honey, not the deep
plunge of the soft belly 10
and the clinging of the gold-edged
pollen-dusted feet;
not so--
though rapture blind my eyes,
and hunger crisp
dark and inert my mouth,
not honey, not the south,
not the tall stalk
of red twin lilies,
nor light branch of fruit-tree 20
caught in flexible light branch;
not honey, not the south
ah flower of purple iris,
flower of white,
or of the iris, withering the grass--
for fleck of the sun’s fire,
gathers such heat and power,
that the shadow-print is light,
cast through the petals
of the yellow iris flower; 30
not iris--old-desire--old passion--
old forgetfulness--old pain--
not this, nor any flower,
but if you turn again,
seek strength of arm and throat,
touch as the god;
neglect the lyre-note;
knowing that you shall feel,
about the frame,
no trembling of the string 40
but heat, more passionate
of bone and the white shell
and fiery tempered steel.
Explication #3
Written in 1917, HD’s Fragment 113 is a 43 line long lyric poem. The title refers to a fragment written by Sappho. Sappho, born around 630 BC, was a Greek poet and songstress from the island of Lesbos. In later antiquity she was honoured as one of the muses. She inspired the naming of both a poetics and a sexuality. This fragment, ‘mete moi meli mete melissa,’ translates literally as ‘neither for me the honey nor the bee.’ It was preserved as an example of a proverb in the rhetorical treatise, On Figures of Speech by the first century BC grammarian Tryphon. Anne Carson offers a less literal translation in the notes of If Not, Winter:
mellowsmelling honey
yellowstinging bee
honey, Honey?
No not me (379).
However the epigram translation is “neither the honey nor the bee for me.” It is impossible to keep the striking alliteration that the Greek fragment contains. In H. D.’s responsive poem she weaves repetitions and Greek imagery into a musical poem in the same way as this fragment does.
“Not honey,” insists H.D.’s first line, echoing precisely Sappho’s “mete meli.” The second line continues the refusal, “not the plunder of the bee.” It then moves away from Sappho’s concise aphorism to describe the honey’s origins. The “honey” is “the plunder of the bee / from the meadow or sand flower / or the mountain bush.” This first list of possible honey sources spans three lines. Each line can function as a discrete musical phrase, but there is a definite variation of pause and breathe at line four’s end-stopping semi-colon. The theme of honey’s origins continues past the semi-colon through the next two lines, “from the winter-flower or shoot / born of the later heat.” This “honey” can originate from nearly any flower: from a winter or summer one (born “of the later heat”); from the mountains, meadows or sands.
“Not honey,” repeats H.D. in line 6, qualifying it now after a semi-colon as “not the sweet” which with enjambment draws smoothly over the line break to the “stain” in line 7. This is a strange image; honey is not usually thought of as a staining substance. Perhaps this connotes more the idea of a love staining the soul with a remembrance of it and a want for more.
“Not honey” rings in repetition for a third time in seven lines. H.D. lines up these refusals one under another like rungs on a ladder towards something. Towards what? I do not know, but it is not honey. The third honey is followed by:
not the deep
plunge of the soft belly 10
and the clinging of the gold-edged
pollen-dusted feet;
The line break between “deep” and “plunge” feels like a satisfying dive. With a concrete image H.D. moves in the end of this stanza from the honey to the bee, from the meli to the melissa.
Echoing the alliterative Sappho fragment H. D. places strict repetitions at the heads of the lines and subtle repetitions of rhymes at the ends. In the first stanza ‘“sweet”’ and ‘“heat”‘ rhyme (6-7). ‘“Bee”’ (2), ‘“Teeth”’ (8) and ‘“Feet”’ (12), all placed at line ends, function as eye-rhymes with their double ‘ee’s. The rhymes continue in the second stanza at ‘“mouth”’ (16) and ‘“south”’ (17). Another ‘“south”’ (22) ends the first line of the third stanza. ‘“Power”’ (27) rhymes with ‘“flower”’ (30) and another ‘“flower”’ is found as an identical rhyme over a stanza break at line 33. Again rhymes she ‘“again”’ (34) with ‘”pain”’ (31) and ‘“throat”’ (35) with ‘“lyre-note”’ (37). H. D. concludes the poem with ‘“steel”’ (43), another ‘ee’ word, which rhymes with ‘“feel”’ from line 38. These rhymes function both as musical repetitions and lend the poem a lyrical flowing honey-like rhythm.
“Not so--,” retorts H. D. opening the second stanza by again opposing the honey-fiendish foe, this time with a change: without the honey. A concessive and rhyming ‘“though”’ follows setting up stakes for this continued refusal. H. D. continues to vary the rhythm of the poem by changing the line lengths and switching between enjambed lines, “and hunger crisp / dark and inert in my mouth” (15-16), and end-stopped ones, “not so” (13).
“Not honey,” (21) chimes the speaker for the fourth time. She specifies the “honey” as “not the south.” South denotes a relative direction. The south of what? The country? The body? The bottom of the honey jar? She specifies further with a change of poetic direction:
not the tall stalk
of red twin lilies,
nor light branch of fruit-tree 20
caught in flexible light branch;
From the honey the speaker moves to the bee and then to the flower. Here H. D.’s Imagist roots shine forth as if “caught in a flexible light branch.” The image of a “light branch of fruit-tree / caught in a flexible light branch” plays on both the themes of repetition and Sapphic imagery. An apple hanging on a high branch is a frequent love image in Ancient Greek poetry.
“Not honey, not the south” begins the third stanza with the fifth honey refusal. “The south” is quizzically elaborated as “ah flower of purple iris / flower of white.” This continues the colored flower image pattern that flits frequently through the third stanza following the “red twin lilies” of line 19. This is a strange stanza. The iris changes from “purple” (23), to “white” (24), to “yellow” (30). An iris can be both white, purple and yellow at the same time, however the epithetic adjectives make it seem essentially rather than accidentally a “yellow iris flower” or a “purple iris.” There is also a confusing disjunctive: “ah flower of purple iris, / flower of white, / or of the iris.” It is also possible that ‘iris’ signifies the colored part of an eye. However, because the iris is “withering the grass” this looks unlikely. In the fifth stanza the iris is linked with “old desire--old passion / old forgetfulness--old pain--” (31-32). Surely this changeable iris is not merely an iris; it is a symbol for an old love, or an old source of honey and bees.
The flower is “withering the grass.” It harms or injures the grasses “for a fleck of the sun’s fire” and “gathers such heat and power, that the shadow-print is light.” A shadow should be caused by blocking some light; “a shadow-print of light” is a paradoxical image. This is not only an echo of the sweet-bitter love images that run throughout Sappho’s poetry but it is also a concrete image of light “cast through petals” prismatically shining which make a “shadow-print of light.”
The final stanza turns. The built up expectation after repetitions is not satiated by a final ‘“not honey”’ but instead the final stanza begins: “not iris--old-desire--old passion-- / old forgetfulness--old pain--.” The refusal extends from the “honey” to the iris which is “old desire,” “passion,” “forgetfulness” and “pain” and even further to “any other flower.” The dashes and repletion of ‘“old”’ make this final refusal seem certain and complete. Could there be a more absolute voluptuous refusal of voluptuousness?
The speaker, however, is neither finished nor satisfied with a repetitive refrain of refusals. There is a chance to “turn again” and she gives guidance in case this happens. “Seek strength of arm and throat, / touch as the god; / neglect the lyre-note,” She counsels (34-6). Sappho was a lyric poet, meaning that her compositions were meant to be sung with accompaniment on the lyre. Thus to “neglect the lyre-note” is to neglect poetics. Greek gods are forever touching youths without the slightest regard for their feelings; this is the kind of love that the speaker counsels, the kind that can be borne with “strength of arm and throat.”
In this new kind of love without honey or stings the speaker knows
that you shall feel,
about the frame,
no trembling of the string 40
but heat, more passionate
of bone and the white shell
and fiery tempered steel.
Perhaps H. D.’s poem turns here from alluding to Aphrodite, who is evoked with the bee, honey and flower imagery, to her husband Hephaestus, the lame but skillful welder of armor for the gods. The “fiery tempered steel” might refer to tempered armor, a white shell protecting against a certain kind of feeling. The speaker doesn’t predict that you shall feel nothing but rather there will be a different kind of feeling. There will be “no trembling of the string / but heat, more passionate.” The lyre string will not be struck. However the armor does not keep out feeling but rather this steel is “fiery tempered.”
The poem ends on this last turning pun.
H. D. deftly weaves Sapphic quotes, Hellenic allusions and natural concrete images together to form her own distinct style. She takes Sappho’s fragment 113 as a starting rock from which to spring and shine light on the proverb from different angles while playing with repetition and rhyme.
Works Cited
Carson, Anne. If Not, Winter. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2002. Print
Appendix 1: My Own Fragment 113
Fragment 113 (first draft)
-a song for Sappho & Jayne
Mete moi meli mete melissa.
Neither for me honey nor the bee. --Sappho
Love is easy
in the not yet
given apple, in
the bee
before the sting,
in the honey
limbed melody
before the song.
Neither neither neither
for me
nor not knowing,
knotted pines, and not
unknotted strings
like yarns strung
knitted with gaps which
only the stinging wind
can reach through.
I am not stung.
I am not
under the
water like honey
buoyant but thick
by which boy and ant are
attracted, by which
want
wants what it will
but moves so
slowly, striving. For
neither neither nor
flowers, please.
For me? Neither bee
nor being nor becoming
more, no apple core, nor
even a small neither
nor.
No comments:
Post a Comment