Post by immortaldiamond on Nov 26, 2009 18:41:08 GMT -5
Hello all, I have a question about Alfred Noyes poems in his book, The Secret of Pooduck Island. The rhyme and meter are so beautiful, that I sometimes read the poems just for the sound. My problem is with the meaning. I can see that SO much is meant by the poems, but my understanding of them is rather limited. I would love to get some insights on what they mean. I feel like I am on the verge of understanding them; maybe if someone could give me a nudge in the right direction?
These are the two poems I am particularly wondering about.
Squirrel corn, squirrel corn, dig for the sweet of it!
Gold cannot buy it, but squirrels can eat of it!
Mother and chickaree, up now and run with it
Back to your tribe, if you'd play in the sun with it.
Run thro' the sweet-grass, and back to the tent with it!
Light was their laugh on the wind--and they went with it.
Torn away, torn away, arrow and quiver,
Into what darkness, O wild rushing river?
Wide is the world. Was there never a nook for them?
Where the world ends, let the Sagamore look for them!
Lost in the night of his heart, and still nigh to him,
Where the world ends, in the dark, they still cry to him:
Squirrel corn, squirrel corn, racing the chickarees
Down to the blossom patch, under the hickories,
Run thro' the sweet-grass, or sleep in a nest of it,
Mother and little brown son have the best of it!
And the other poem:
Squirrel corn, squirrel corn--youth and the sweet of it!
Dig for the root, little Indian, and eat of it.
Gather the sweet-grass and make you a nest of it.
Mother and little brown son have the best of it!
Happy their hunting ground, bright with the flower of it!
Theirs was the kingdom, once; ay, and the power of it!
Where are they flown, then?--O, swift as the swallow,
Sagamore, dip your dark paddle and follow.
Thank you!
These are the two poems I am particularly wondering about.
Squirrel corn, squirrel corn, dig for the sweet of it!
Gold cannot buy it, but squirrels can eat of it!
Mother and chickaree, up now and run with it
Back to your tribe, if you'd play in the sun with it.
Run thro' the sweet-grass, and back to the tent with it!
Light was their laugh on the wind--and they went with it.
Torn away, torn away, arrow and quiver,
Into what darkness, O wild rushing river?
Wide is the world. Was there never a nook for them?
Where the world ends, let the Sagamore look for them!
Lost in the night of his heart, and still nigh to him,
Where the world ends, in the dark, they still cry to him:
Squirrel corn, squirrel corn, racing the chickarees
Down to the blossom patch, under the hickories,
Run thro' the sweet-grass, or sleep in a nest of it,
Mother and little brown son have the best of it!
And the other poem:
Squirrel corn, squirrel corn--youth and the sweet of it!
Dig for the root, little Indian, and eat of it.
Gather the sweet-grass and make you a nest of it.
Mother and little brown son have the best of it!
Happy their hunting ground, bright with the flower of it!
Theirs was the kingdom, once; ay, and the power of it!
Where are they flown, then?--O, swift as the swallow,
Sagamore, dip your dark paddle and follow.
Thank you!