Sophie Lynne Creations

There are certain themes towards which it seems poets across time periods have tended. Love, nature, death, and sadness work their way into the pens of most writers and into the minds of most readers. Many of the poets that have become highly esteemed in the world of expression are often made out to be admirably unique in their thoughts. Their originality is praised. Yet, as famous lyric poems are observed more carefully, it seems these poets have more in common than is obvious upon first glance. Specifically, two ideas emerge time and time again: seasons and nighttime. These two concepts weave themselves, sometimes subtly and sometimes glaringly, into deeper contemplations of various poem topics. Notably, though, poets do not always have the same things to say in regards to seasons and nighttime. Although society generally accepts certain connotations that are attached to these two topics, different poets use the themes in different ways. These similarities and differences may be observed through countless poems, but William Wordsworth’s “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey” and Ocean Vuong’s “Notebook Fragments” prove interesting to analyze adjacently. Wordsworth and Vuong, although born over 200 years apart, demonstrate ways in which to think about two themes; themes that concern themselves with the in-between, with borderlines. Although further analysis will reveal conclusions far more intricate and nuanced, Wordsworth generally seems to think about seasons and night reverently. Vuong seems to agree about seasons, yet introduces a restless and ‘sinful’ connotation of nighttime. Both poets employ vivid diction and imagery to accomplish these goals.

Wordsworth uses seasons in a mainly expository manner, as the first large stanza of “Lines” sets the tone for the rest of the poem. Immediately upon starting the poem, Wordsworth turns to the measurement of time. He specifies, “Five years have passed; five summers, with the length / Of five long winters!” (1-2). Although each season is stereotypically understood to be an equal (or similar) unit, the descriptor “long,” before “winters,” introduces an element of perceived imbalance. The winters felt long and the summers apparently did not, and yet the summers are described as having the same length as the “long winters.” This goes to say that although moments may feel different– longer or shorter, easier or harder– to various people, nature pushes forward in a reliable and consistent manner. This consistency is not meant to be painted as stifling, but rather as comforting and conducive of trust. Readers see this through the repeated phrase “Once again” that reappears in the first stanza as reliably as seasons. Wordsworth recounts, “Once again / Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs…,” “Once again I see / These hedgerows” (4-5, 14-15). Although on a surface level, Wordsworth references his personal return to this area, the cyclical repetitiveness mirrors seasons coming, going, and returning, “once again.” As imagery of regrowing plants crowds this first stanza, Wordsworth links a positive and relaxed tone with nature’s regularity and dependability, as manifested through the seasons.

In “Notebook Fragments,” Vuong includes discussion of seasons in an even more blatantly reverent fashion. In a poem ridden with despair, the first mention of a season includes an exclamation mark and a linguistic sigh of relief. He writes, “It’s finally spring! Daffodils everywhere. / Just like that” (17-18). Using diction and punctuation that suggests awe, Vuong implies that the joy of the turning seasons provides him with a momentary, blissful fascination. This sentiment adopts more religious undertones later in the poem, as the narrator’s (presumably Vuong’s) grandmother ponders, “God must be a season, looking out at the blizzard drowning / her garden” (78-79). As the grandmother witnesses winter killing her plants, she hopes that whoever or whatever makes this decision is making it in her best interest. Such a figure, for many people, is God. A direct link is drawn, consequently, between God and seasons; both are depicted as all-knowing, decision-making forces that move the world in mysterious and yet ultimately beneficial ways.

As seasons live at the line that marks an unavoidable shift to what comes next, so too does nighttime. In “Lines,” Wordsworth involves night in a way that feels gentle and affectionate. He seems to hold day and night to the same expectations and connotations, which is slightly more rare than usual. Typically, patterns emerge equating the day’s sunshine with positive emotions and the night’s darkness with negative ones. Contrary to this tendency, Wordsworth reminisces, “…how oft– / In darkness and amid the many shapes / Of joyless daylight… How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, / O sylvan Wye!” (50-52, 55-56). Reflecting on the fact that he has turned to the woods in both lightness and darkness, day and night, Wordsworth holds the two time frames on the same level. Strikingly, he goes so far as to characterize daylight as “joyless,” suggesting that the times of day and night should not be indicative of inherently positive or negative sentiments. He continues to play with the theme of light, using verbiage like “dim” and “gleams” in tandem with imagery of “setting suns” (59, 149, 97). The most noteworthy moment, though, appears in Wordsworth’s advice to his sister in regards to her relationship with nature. He urges, “let the moon / Shine on thee in thy solitary walk” (134-135). The image of the moon’s glow pouring over the sister embeds clear images of bright light into the otherwise dark connotation of a night sky. Although the walk is solitary and the time is night, there is nothing but care and serenity in the way Wordsworth suggests his sister become comfortable with the nighttime.

The imagery and diction surrounding seasons and nighttime have thus far been more similar than different as used by Wordsworth and Vuong. The two poets have generally spoken admiringly of seasons, night, and the comfort they feel at these borderlines. The implications of nighttime that Vuong creates in “Notebook Fragments,” however, feel negative and hectic. The first jarring instance of this is when he writes, “7:18 a.m. Kevin overdosed last night” (6). Even though readers do not know who Kevin is, they are taken aback by how tragic and abrupt this sentence is. Vuong solidifies that this heartbreaking event took place at night, and with the next day comes the coping with and facing of the outcomes. This timestamp approach to reflection can be seen as well when the narrator documents, “4:37 a.m. How come depression makes me feel more alive?” (26). Depending on the season, 4:37 a.m. is situated in the night and yet is rather close to the border of the morning. These words link depression to the nighttime, a time when emotions stir loudly in the heads of quiet sufferers. There is something bizarrely exhilarating about suffering, though, as Vuong wonders why it makes him feel alive. Vuong’s devious, often scandalous behaviors mingle with the night in many other parts of the poem. He recounts he “ran through Duffy’s cornfield. Boxers only,” “Woke up screaming with no sound,” and “met a man tonight,” all at different points in the poem, and yet all at night (12, 35, 44). This mildly unhinged and risqué behavior seems to be egged on by the fraught nighttime. Vuong’s daytime self seems to have to process much of what his nighttime self explores.

As both Wordsworth and Vuong are certainly successful poets in different ways, both turn to cliché inclusions: seasons and night. These common topics can be used as signposts for certain sentiments in poetry or other writing. So, does winter always equal darkness, which always equals death and misery? Do stereotypical, seasonal connotations propel emotions? Wordsworth and Vuong do indeed use winter to convey ideas of death and darkness to communicate sadness. They periodically fall victim to the tempting pull of painting happiness with bright, summer sunshine. They also, however, reverse the usual narrative by rejecting customary connotations of these borderlines and creating their own. Wordsworth acknowledges that seasons test patience, and yet appreciates nature’s reliability and consistency in ‘implementing’ them. Vuong views the concept of seasons as a near-holy entity, equipped with beneficial power. Wordsworth remains calm in the nighttime, admiring the tranquility of the moonlit sky. Vuong does the opposite, as the night for him stimulates concepts of death, depression, and questionable decisions. Poets indeed use classic themes, such as seasons and nighttime, to explore emotions over time. It seems, however, upon deeper investigation, that the way in which poets may do so can house both commonalities and drastic differences.