Ash Wednesday Analysis

I





Because I do not hope to turn again


Because I do not hope


Because I do not hope to turn


Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope


I no longer strive to strive towards such things


(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)


Why should I mourn


The vanished power of the usual reign?





Because I do not hope to know


The infirm glory of the positive hour


Because I do not think


Because I know I shall not know


The one veritable transitory power


Because I cannot drink


There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is

nothing again





Because I know that time is always time


And place is always and only place


And what is actual is actual only for one time


And only for one place


I rejoice that things are as they are and


I renounce the blessèd face


And renounce the voice


Because I cannot hope to turn again


Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something


Upon which to rejoice





And pray to God to have mercy upon us


And pray that I may forget


These matters that with myself I too much discuss


Too much explain


Because I do not hope to turn again


Let these words answer


For what is done, not to be done again


May the judgement not be too heavy upon us





Because these wings are no longer wings to fly


But merely vans to beat the air


The air which is now thoroughly small and dry


Smaller and dryer than the will


Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.





Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death


Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.








II


Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree


In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity


On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been

contained


In the hollow round of my skull. And God said


Shall these bones live? shall these


Bones live? And that which had been contained


In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:


Because of the goodness of this Lady


And because of her loveliness, and because


She honours the Virgin in meditation,


We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled


Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love


To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.


It is this which recovers


My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions


Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn


In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.


Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.


There is no life in them. As I am forgotten


And would be forgotten, so I would forget


Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said


Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only


The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping


With the burden of the grasshopper, saying





Lady of silences


Calm and distressed


Torn and most whole


Rose of memory


Rose of forgetfulness


Exhausted and life-giving


Worried reposeful


The single Rose


Is now the Garden


Where all loves end


Terminate torment


Of love unsatisfied


The greater torment


Of love satisfied


End of the endless


Journey to no end


Conclusion of all that


Is inconclusible


Speech without word and


Word of no speech


Grace to the Mother


For the Garden


Where all love ends.





Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining


We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each

other,


Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,


Forgetting themselves and each other, united


In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye


Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity


Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.











III





At the first turning of the second stair


I turned and saw below


The same shape twisted on the banister


Under the vapour in the fetid air


Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears


The deceitul face of hope and of despair.





At the second turning of the second stair


I left them twisting, turning below;


There were no more faces and the stair was dark,


Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond

repair,


Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.





At the first turning of the third stair


Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit


And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene


The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green


Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.


Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,


Lilac and brown hair;


Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind


over the third stair,


Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair


Climbing the third stair.








Lord, I am not worthy


Lord, I am not worthy





               but speak the word only.





IV


Who walked between the violet and the violet


Whe walked between


The various ranks of varied green


Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,


Talking of trivial things


In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour


Who moved among the others as they walked,


Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs





Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand


In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,


Sovegna vos





Here are the years that walk between, bearing


Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring


One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing





White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.


The new years walk, restoring


Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring


With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem


The time. Redeem


The unread vision in the higher dream


While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.





The silent sister veiled in white and blue


Between the yews, behind the garden god,


Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke

no word





But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down


Redeem the time, redeem the dream


The token of the word unheard, unspoken





Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew





And after this our exile








V


If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent


If the unheard, unspoken


Word is unspoken, unheard;


Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,


The Word without a word, the Word within


The world and for the world;


And the light shone in darkness and


Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled


About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word


Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence


Not on the sea or on the islands, not


On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,


For those who walk in darkness


Both in the day time and in the night time


The right time and the right place are not here


No place of grace for those who avoid the face


No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny

the voice





Will the veiled sister pray for


Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,


Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,

time and time, between


Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait


In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray


For children at the gate


Who will not go away and cannot pray:


Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender


Yew trees pray for those who offend her


And are terrified and cannot surrender


And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks


In the last desert before the last blue rocks


The desert in the garden the garden in the desert


Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI


Although I do not hope to turn again


Although I do not hope


Although I do not hope to turn





Wavering between the profit and the loss


In this brief transit where the dreams cross


The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying


(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things


From the wide window towards the granite shore


The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying


Unbroken wings





And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices


In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices


And the weak spirit quickens to rebel


For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell


Quickens to recover


The cry of quail and the whirling plover


And the blind eye creates


The empty forms between the ivory gates


And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth





This is the time of tension between dying and birth


The place of solitude where three dreams cross


Between blue rocks


But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away


Let the other yew be shaken and reply.





Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit

of the garden,


Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood


Teach us to care and not to care


Teach us to sit still


Even among these rocks,


Our peace in His will


And even among these rocks


Sister, mother


And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,


Suffer me not to be separated





And let my cry come unto Thee.

.: :.

• I. Because of doubt, the springs of action are dried up; hence the speaker, having no hope, can turn neither to the world nor to God. In possible states of mind it represents the extreme state of despair. Having renounced both the world and the hope of salvation, he goes on in Part II to construct out of death something upon which to rejoice.
• II. He has begun to “construct something”, to pass beyond despair. In death, he sees a release from his lusts and in the love, which his death reveals, he has found a form of triumph over self.
• III. ‘Ascent’ is the way of realising the higher love in the poem. This is a vision of ascension, through which he travels through a trial of despair and a trial of hope. He eventually reaches “strength beyond hope and despair”.
• IV. The Lady becomes the Mother of the Garden, who provides the speaker with a vision of regeneration to help grow his faith. The provision which the Lady will give will be the fruit, and in effect, “the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus”.
• V. Deals with the revelation of the Word in the present world. The Word remains, even though the world and man is against it. The speaker asserts the dire need for Grace and confirms the presence of the highest love, “O my people”. He expresses his agonized concern with his dilemma. The difficulty of turning to God.
• VI. The lusts of nature and for the world are renewed, where he found no appeal in Part I. The reversal is now complete: where he could turn neither to the world nor to God, and now although he can turn to the world, he desires to turn to God. The contrasts of Parts I and VI emphasises the change of will which is the significant development of the poem. For the poem describes stages of despair, self-renunciation, moral recovery, renewed faith, need of grace, and renewal of the will both toward the world and God. Part VI is not a paradox, but a revelation of the basic weakness of his despair in Part I.
• Emotionally, Ash Wednesday develops his experience of love in relation to its various incarnations, marked by an ascent from lower to higher.

| Posted on 2009-11-15 | by a guest