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A. E. HousmanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Housman’s poem is anything but formally experimental. It is formally, in fact, a throwback, a nostalgic evocation of a kind of poem that defined poetry for generations. “Poem XXXVI” invokes a traditional rural song, that is a folk genre, known as the ballad. As with traditional ballads, Housman’s poem is straightforward, direct, dispensing with elaborate language ornamentation and complex symbolism to deal directly and sympathetically with a universal human emotion—in this case, leaving behind a love. The ballad traditionally is often a narrative, a story, as it is here, set to tightly rhymed lines, in this case ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH. The clear predictability of the formal rhyming structure reflects the traditional ballad as a sung rather than spoken verse, the rhymes assisting in memorizing the lines as balladeers would move town to town to entertain people. Thus, the poem uses a refrain (“White in the moon the long road lies”) to create the feel of a folk song. Indeed, as with many of the poems collected in The Shropshire Lad, “Poem XXXVI” has been set to music.
Typical of ballads, the poem, despite its compressed form, explores a wide emotional range, from tenderness to anxiety, without actually indulging excessive emotions. There are few adjectives, few adverbs to clutter the directness of the ballad’s delivery. Rather, the form itself creates a feeling that is subtle, indirect. The poem uses rich long vowels (particularly i’s and e’s) and soft sibilant consonants (particularly s’s and l’s) to create the sense of quiet fear that builds in the narrator as he departs his love under the moonlit night sky. In the refrain, for instance, the phrase “long road lies / That leads me from my love,” with its complex weave of long vowels and drawn-out consonants, rewards a slow and emphatic delivery that, in turn, captures formally the feel of a road stretching ahead.
In an era when a generation of young upstart poets was just beginning to repurpose inherited metrical patterns to create innovative and often audacious patterns that involved designing lines of uneven structures to reflect that generation’s growing sense of the world’s chaos and to suggest the power of the poet to design strikingly original order, Housman draws on traditional conceptions of meter, a reflection not only of his academic interest in the carefully metered poems of Antiquity but as well his romantic notion that poetic order is a thing of beauty in and of itself.
Thus, the poetic lines are tightly metered. Each stanza has four lines. Each of two lines within each stanza are octosyllabic, that is each couplet has eight beats. That song-like feel is enhanced by the poem’s use of what are called masculine rhymes, that is the repetition of a similar sound in different words usually of a single syllable: above/love; gust/dust; stay/way; tell/well; hies/lies. The masculine rhyme creates a feeling of direct communication, the apparent simpleness of the rhyming (although Housman was a meticulous revisor of his poetic lines, working to create that feeling of simplicity) creating a metric pattern that sounds agreeable to the ear without the elaborate metrical subtleties of more academic verse.
Housman conceives of the poem as a broad uncomplicated message, the percussive feel giving the poem not only its urgency (the rhythm suggests the clean rhythms of a heartbeat in a poem ironically about a heart that is breaking) but as well its wide appeal working as it does to engage the emotions of the reader.
“Poem XXXVI” is an ironic variation on a first-person narrative. The poem plays against the expectations of a first-person voice. The poem denies accessibility to the narrator’s deepest sensibility. Indeed, the first-person voice resists sharing anything save his own brave attempts to convince himself that the reality of his situation is not as grim as he knows it to be.
Thus, the poem’s narrative is told by a man who is at best optimistic, at worst delusional. Indeed, the reader actually realizes what the narrator himself might be reluctant to acknowledge. The voice thus creates a crucial distance between reader and narrator, despite the first-person intimacy. The voice who tells the story actually shares little about himself, save that he is leaving his love behind and is uncertain when he will return. He desperately searches for any evidence of stability even as he catalogues a world in perpetual flux. He understands in his head what he resists in his heart, that the evidence of change all around him is overwhelming and the reality of the long road ahead is evidence that his hope in his return to his lover is unconvincing, in the end, even perhaps to himself. But the reader understands what the narrator resists. The narrator’s repetition of the word “far” (Line 14), deliberately staggered by the comma, in the closing stanza reveals his grasp at some level of the darkest implications of his journey and how dim the hope is that all will be restored, that his love will be waiting his return.