Whitsun Wedding

Frost's poem is melancholy and nostalgic in tone and soothing, almost hypnotic, in rhythm. Peaceful and serene in the natural scene it describes, it seems to sway between restful repose and death. Sleep and death, and a seeming longing for both, are evoked by the images of night, long travel, winter and isolation. The simple, formulaic phrasing and rhythm of the poem belie something hidden, beneath and in the past, which is more complex. Frost, differently from Hayden's free verse, uses the formal structure and rhythm of his verse in juxtaposition to the more troubling, less controllable, undercurrent of death. The nervous horse, keenly attune to its environment and master, is juxtaposed to the easy flow of the poem and the falsely assuring repetition of the last line. Similarly the juxtaposition of 'lovely' with 'dark and deep' woods (like a grave!) is unsettling.

The tone of the poem starts off comical and almost light-hearted- a father dancing in a recklessly with his son, knocking over pots and pans. But the son clings onto his father like "death" while the mother is clearly discontented with the situation. "Whisky on your breath could make a small boy dizzy" connotes excess, a situation beyond acceptable limits - too much for the boy and too much for his mother. The verse jerks back and forth in tone and imagery; from movements of dance, to battered movements. 'Waltzing' and 'beating time' are juxtaposed to a tight hold on the wrist, battered knuckle and scraped ear. Lightness and humor change to satire and a critical edge. Like Frost, Roethke uses the rhythm of his verse to carry the reader along, like a waltz, but one that becomes increasingly dizzying as the reader realizes the confusion, even terror, the child feels. The child's reference to his father as 'you' helps the reader feel the emotions more immediately and drives home the physical closeness of father and child. It also enforces a tone that is almost accusatory.

Hayden's poem moves from a description of the father, to the speaking "I" of his young son, to the matured recognition and remorse of the now grown poet. The shattering paradox of a laboring father who warms the house and polishes his son's good shoes but is greeted with indifference is not lost on the reader. Yet, the affection demonstrated by