The Thorn

Happy New Year! I'm sure like myself you are trying to shake off all the rust from the break, so you will forgive me if this blog is not up to par.

I read 'The Thorn' a few days ago, and although I enjoyed the poem, I had difficulty with the themes and ideas. This poem struck me with it's intensity of sorrow and darkness. The beginning of the poem was typical of the Wordsworth I've read in the past. It's like he takes a brush and paints this beautiful landscape of nature with his crafty use of language. Wordsworth has such passion for the rural landscape that he is able to describe nature so meticulously, and I found he was able to emphasize feelings of sorrow through repetition. He shows the lamentation of Martha Ray as she articulates " Oh misery! Oh misery! Oh woe is me! Oh misery! " in Shakespearian fashion, as well as a great use of alliteration " Cuts like a scythe, while through the clouds ", in order to evade the gaudiness of rhetorical tropes. What I really like about Wordsworth's writing, 'The Thorn' being a good example, is that he is able to connect the social world with the natural world.

Wordsworth sets us up for this bewilderment of the lamenting Martha Ray as the speaker asks in the eighth stanza " why sits she beside the Thorn ", and " wherefore does she cry ". The latter question, being of more importance, seems to have been triggered by the mysterious death or disappearance of Martha's young child. Wordsworth follows up this question with a duality of opinion whereby the townsfolk believe that Martha Ray murdered her daughter, and in opposition the sympathetic notion from the speaker who believes she is innocent. Although the question of how the child died is unanswered, Wordsworth makes the point that there is a cruelness to society. Martha had to escape society and turn to nature, but was it by choice or force? Wordsworth does not answer this question either, but he does allude to both being possibilities. In the end I found the story left me perplexed, as there were way too many questions left unanswered. But poetry likes to show and not always tell, and I have learned to except that.

Ciao