]Text:The Love Song of J. Alfred Proufrock
Task: Make a text analysis following the exercises after the text
T. S. Eliot
THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PROUFROCK
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza più scosse.
Ma perciocchè giammai di questo fondo
Non tornò vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Taliking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair.
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair
(They wil say: 'How his hair is growing thin!')
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin_
(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!')
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all-
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all_
The eyes that fix youin a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinnedand wrigglingon the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all_
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
( But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Its perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap abpout a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent sea.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so pacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep...tired...or it malingers,
Streched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strenght to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a
platter,
I am no prophet_and here is no great-matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it,after all,
After the cups, the marmelade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all'
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.'
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the doryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the
floor_
And this, and so much more?_
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns of a screen:
Would it have been worth while If one, settlinga pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not wath I mean, at all.'
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
advise the prince; no dubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic,cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old...I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear withe flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each,
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the withe hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water withe and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
Text analysis
1. Underline words or lines refearing to:
a)the setting of the poem
b)human presence in the setting
c)the time of day and the season
2.Write a short paragraph drawing conclusions.
In the poem the reader can find a circolar structure: evening, night and morning comes everytime, the human presence is not obvious and this can be interpreted as the cycle of life; while atmospherical events, seasons and hour in the day pass by to return, man grows old and dies, seasons and day are alwayas the same while men passed by.
Such aspects make the atmosphere of the poem sad and confused, the fog and the night are moments suitable for reflection and the loneliness of man in the universe makes the scene more static.
3.Underline words or lines referring to the age and the physical aspect of the speaker
4.Underline words or lines referring (directly or indirectly)to the personality of the speaker.
5.Write a short comment on the physical aspect and the personality of the speaker.
The speaker is a common English lord, he wears typical clothes and he behaves like an aristocrat.
He is a puppet of society, he is terrified by changes and he doesn't dare do anything because he doesn't want to "disturb the universe", he needs confirmations and he hasen't got the courage to make of himself the protagonist of his own destiny.
6.Underline detalils concerning the visit the speaker is to make and the people he is to see.
7.underline all the "metaphysical" images you can find.
8.After reading again the introductory note, the text and the footnotes, give the substance of the poem in your own words.
The poem is about a men that hasn't got the courage to tell his love to a woman, more exactly, the poem conveys the thoughts of this men with his indecisions about making his declaration of not.
In conclusion he realizes he is "growing old" and he becomes terrified about what would be of him, what people would think of him and what he would change in his life.
9.Find our rhymes, internal rhymes and any sound device that might contribute to rhythmic pattern of the poem.
10.Discuss the ironic aspect of the poem.Why did Eliot choose to call his monologue a "love song"?
Eliot choose to call his monologue a "love song" because he deals with the possible consequences of not making a love declaration.
The speaker is tragic because he hopes love would arrive without making something but this doesn't matter and he becomes old without the courage to change something and he doesn't want to change, he is an ordinary man, he doesn't feel a protagonist like Hamlet or a propeth like Lazarus, he feels a common person that must satisfyin what he longs for