To celebrate World Poetry Day, I have chosen poems which are built on a metaphor. This one by Robert Frost, which I long ago committed to memory, describes a woman as a silken tent in a field. The language is silky and sibilant, conveying the susurration of a breeze gently buffeting the tent, as life buffets the steadfast, upright woman.
Source: Robert Frost
Photo credit: Markusspiske, pixabay.com
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe nought to any single cord
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one’s going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
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