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,


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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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