Baltimore’s Sunlit Poet

Sunrise

By Lizette Woodworth Reese

The east is yellow as a daffodil.
Three steeples — three stark swarthy arms — are thrust
Up from the town. The gnarled poplars thrill
Down the long street in some keen salty gust —
Straight from the sea and all the sailing ships —
Turn white, black, white again, with noises sweet
And swift. Back to the night the last star slips.
High up the air is motionless, a sheet
Of light. The east grows yellower apace,
And trembles: then, once more, and suddenly,
The salt wind blows, and in that moment’s space
Flame roofs, and poplar-tops, and steeples three;
From out the mist that wraps the river-ways,
The little boats, like torches, start ablaze.

I decided to adopt the poem “Sunrise” by Lizette Woodworth Reese simply because of the title. Watching the sunrise is genuinely one of my favorite parts of the day. I enjoy being awake and at peace with the world before the day’s chaos truly begins. I had never read this poem before, so I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed reading and analyzing the text.

Before learning about the author, I did not know much about her. I found myself in complete awe of this gifted woman and believe she deserves to be shared. Lizette Woodworth Reese (1856–1935) was an American poet known for her evocative verse and keen observation of nature. Born in Maryland, Reese spent most of her life in Baltimore, where she taught English in public schools for over fifty years. Despite her dedication to teaching, Reese found time to pursue her passion for poetry, publishing numerous collections of verse throughout her lifetime.

Reese’s poetry often explores themes of nature, love, loss, and the passage of time. Her work is characterized by its lyrical beauty, vivid imagery, and sensitivity to the distinctions of everyday life. While she never achieved widespread fame during her lifetime, Reese’s poetry has since gained recognition for its depth and emotional resonance.

In addition to her writing, Reese was actively involved in literary circles in Baltimore. One of my favorite details about her was that she was a member of the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore and served as its honorary president from 1922 until her death. Reese also co-founded and performed as the poetry chair for Baltimore’s Women’s Literary Club, where she contributed to the city’s vibrant cultural life.

Despite facing personal tragedies and setbacks, including the loss of her husband and several children, Reese continued to write poetry with resolute dedication. She was an impressive woman whose enduring legacy lies in her ability to capture the beauty and complexity of life through her words, leaving behind a body of work that continues to inspire readers today.

Reese’s poem “Sunrise” was published in her book “A Branch of May” in 1887. The poem paints a vivid picture of dawn breaking over a town. It begins with a vibrant image of the eastern sky, likened to the color of a daffodil, a flower often associated with joy, renewal, and the arrival of spring. This immediate comparison sets a tone of optimism and vitality, suggesting that the sunrise brings a sense of rejuvenation and beauty. The mention of three steeples rising from the town’s skyline are described as stark and swarthy, adding a sense of solidity and permanence to the scene. I believe this also symbolizes spiritual aspiration and human endeavor to reach the heavens.

A beautiful Charleston sunrise, “The east is yellow as a daffodil.”

Reese’s inclusion of sensory details enhances the reader’s immersion in the scene. She shifts focus to the natural elements, describing the poplar trees as “gnarled” and “thrilling” down the long street as they sway from a salty gust. This is likely indicative of the town’s proximity to the sea. The imagery of sailing ships creates a sense of movement, while the image of the poplars turning white, black, and white again in the changing light further emphasizes the dynamic nature of the sunrise and its transformative effect on the landscape.

The last star slips from view as the night fades away, and the air becomes still, draped in a light sheet. The gradual intensification of the eastern sky is described as it turns increasingly yellow, building anticipation for the sunrise. Throughout the poem, Reese precisely captures the gradual transition from night to today. The fading of the last star and the motionlessness of the air create a moment of suspended anticipation before dawn, heightening the sense of expectation and wonder.

The poem’s climax occurs with a sudden burst of energy from the salty wind as the east grows yellower and trembles with anticipation. This culminates in the dramatic imagery of flame roofs, poplar tops, and steeples illuminated by the rising sun. This moment of revelation symbolizes the awakening of the town and the transformative power of light to bring about renewal and vitality.

Reese concludes with the evocative image of a mist-wrapped river coming to life as the little boats, described as “torches,” are ignited by the sun’s rays. This image adds warmth and activity to the serene morning scene, reinforces the theme of illumination, and suggests a sense of interconnectedness between the natural world and human activity.

“Sunrise” is a masterful exploration of the beauty and symbolism of a coastal town awakening to the dawn. Reese’s use of vivid imagery and sensory details invites readers to contemplate the profound significance of light and renewal in the natural world.

“Lizette Woodworth Reese.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/lizette-woodworth-reese.

The Mystifying Allure of “The Haunted Palace”

The Haunted Palace

By Edgar Allan Poe

In the greenest of our valleys

By good angels tenanted,

Once a fair and stately palace—

Radiant palace—reared its head.

In the monarch Thought’s dominion,

It stood there!

Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair!

 

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

On its roof did float and flow

(This—all this—was in the olden

Time long ago)

And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A wingèd odor went away.

 

Wanderers in that happy valley,

Through two luminous windows, saw

Spirits moving musically

To a lute’s well-tunèd law,

Round about a throne where, sitting,

Porphyrogene!

In state his glory well befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.

 

And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace door,

Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing

And sparkling evermore,

A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

Was but to sing,

In voices of surpassing beauty,

The wit and wisdom of their king.

 

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

Assailed the monarch’s high estate;

(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow

Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)

And round about his home the glory

That blushed and bloomed

Is but a dim-remembered story

Of the old time entombed.

 

And travellers, now, within that valley,

Through the red-litten windows see

Vast forms that move fantastically

To a discordant melody;

While, like a ghastly rapid river,

Through the pale door

A hideous throng rush out forever,

And laugh—but smile no more.

As a child, I possessed a peculiar favoritism for the numbers six and eight. They nestled comfortably in my mind, remaining the numbers I find myself most drawn to. Perhaps it sounds fanciful, but I firmly believe that this fascination, combined with my unending obsession with ghostly realms, led to my profound love for Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Haunted Palace.” Published in 1839, this mesmerizing poem consists of six stanzas, each containing eight lines—an intricate structure that adds to its enchantment and depth. Poe’s meticulous craftsmanship is evident in every line, strategically creating a narrative that unfolds with haunting beauty.

The poem begins by vividly picturing a vibrant valley full of greenery, captivating the imagination with its radiant beauty. Beneath this façade of splendor lies a darker truth, subtly hinted at by Poe’s masterful use of language. As the poem progresses, the tone shifts, and the once-joyous atmosphere gives way to an ominous sense of foreboding.

One of the most striking aspects of “The Haunted Palace” is its exploration of the passage of time and the inevitable decay of all things. The once beautiful palace, adorned with banners of yellow and gold, now stands cloaked in shadows, its former glory a distant memory. Yet, amidst this decay, a haunting beauty remains that captivates the soul—the echo of past splendor, preserved in the dimness of memory.

Poe’s skillful use of literary devices further enhances the poem’s evocative power. Through literary measures such as hyperbole, alliteration, enjambment, and rhyme, he delicately transports readers to a realm where beauty and gloom combine. Every word resonates with a sense of melancholy and fascination, inviting readers to delve deeper into the mysteries of the human psyche.

Central to the poem’s narrative is the tragic fate of the king and his palace, once symbols of power and majesty. Destroyed by evil forces, they now stand as a testament to the fragility of existence and the destructive power of darkness. Through this allegory of downfall and despair, Poe invites readers to confront their own fears and confrontations with human nature.

“The Haunted Palace” is more than just a poem; it is a portal to another world—a world where beauty and terror coexist in perfect harmony. It is a testament to Poe’s genius and his ability to plumb the depths of the human experience, revealing truths hidden in the shadows. For those brave enough to venture into its haunted halls, the poem offers a glimpse into the darkest parts of the soul.

As a child with a rapacious appetite for literature and a fascination with death, “The Haunted Palace” charmed my eager mind. It spoke to me in whispers of the supernatural and echoes of forgotten dreams. The palace, once a place of beauty, now stands as a somber reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death. Yet, the poem’s appeal remains undiminished, drawing me back time and time again to unravel its mysteries anew.

My vision of the decaying Palace.