{"id":28228,"date":"2012-03-22T13:00:01","date_gmt":"2012-03-22T17:00:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=28228"},"modified":"2012-07-11T13:19:43","modified_gmt":"2012-07-11T17:19:43","slug":"%e2%80%9c%e2%80%98summertime-and-the-living-%e2%80%99%e2%80%9d","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/03\/22\/%e2%80%9c%e2%80%98summertime-and-the-living-%e2%80%99%e2%80%9d\/","title":{"rendered":"Robert Hayden\u2019s \u201cSummertime and the Living…\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Robert Hayden.<\/p><\/div>\n

One of the pleasures of reading a great poem over time is the way its meanings establish themselves (like the \u201ctrees of heaven\u201d that reclaim the space of \u201cquarrels and shattered glass\u201d) and grow sturdier, larger.<\/p>\n

I first read Robert Hayden\u2019s \u201cSummertime and the Living…\u201d at an age where I neither understood ellipses nor was hip to the signals of quotation marks. I had scarcely heard of Porgy and Bess<\/em>, so I missed entirely the allusion to \u201cSummertime\u201d the song. Instead, I thought of the poem as situated in memory, as a man looks back on a boyhood imprinted by the \u201cMosaic eyes\u201d of those elders to whom \u201cthe florist roses that only sorrow could afford long since have bidden … Godspeed.\u201d If I had known that the next two words indicated by the title \u201cSummertime and the Living…\u201d would be \u201cis easy,\u201d I no doubt would have (knowing what a predilection I then had for irony) seen the poem as a quick \u201cgotcha,\u201d an \u201coh you thought it was this but it was that\u201d kind of poem, and I imagine it would have taken longer for me to appreciate its nuance. But I was first reading the poem at that tender time when I still took it on faith that nearly all poetry is born of sincerity, and I missed Hayden\u2019s sly joke. It was that sly.<\/p>\n

Later, I heard the song. Later, I saw the deft choice in every word. The way \u201cgangled\u201d worked off \u201cvivid\u201d which worked off \u201cunplanned\u201d to suggest a lively disorder out of which dream emerges in the form of \u201ccircus-poster horses.\u201d And later still I saw the roses not as a decorative flower (as I\u2019d once imagined them) but as a necessary embodiment of sorrow exceeding frugality in its expensive claim on our hearts. Later, I understood the symbolic power of boxer Jack Johnson setting \u201cthe ghetto burgeoning with fantasies\u201d as he leaves in a \u201cdiamond limousine.\u201d <\/p>\n

The man we meet in the poem has lived among \u201cpoor folks\u201d who were \u201cso harshened after each unrelenting day that they were shouting-angry.\u201d And though he sees the \u201cbroken steps\u201d and \u201cshattered glass\u201d of this economically depressed world, he also celebrates the bold brightness of the sunflowers, the vivid children, the \u201ctolerant wickedness,\u201d and the Elks\u2019 parades. There\u2019s a rich particularity to the language, a mosaic texture of sharp hue and jagged line. In the last stanza, the rhythm rises like the voice of a street preacher, and long e<\/em>\u2019s in every final syllable of the last four lines ring like tambourines. Celebratory, sad, and splendiforous, like an old-time funeral. \u201cPoetry exceeding music,\u201d Wallace Stevens reminds us, \u201cmust take the place of empty heaven and its hymns.\u201d Robert Hayden lifts both the reader and the elegized citizenry of the impoverished cityscape, through this deeply melodious poem fretted with angelic fire, into the realm of paradise.<\/p>\n

\n

Nobody planted roses, he recalls,
but sunflowers gangled there sometimes,
tough-stalked and bold
and like the vivid children there unplanned.
There circus-poster horses curveted
in trees of heaven
above the quarrels and shattered glass,
and he was bareback rider of them all.<\/p>\n

No roses there in summer\u2014
oh, never roses except when people died\u2014
and no vacations for his elders,
so harshened after each unrelenting day
that they were shouting-angry.
But summer was, they said, the poor folks’ time
of year. And he remembers
how they would sit on broken steps amid<\/p>\n

The fevered tossings of the dusk, the dark,
wafting hearsay with funeral-parlor fans
or making evening solemn by
their quietness. Feels their Mosaic eyes
upon him, though the florist roses
that only sorrow could afford
long since have bidden them Godspeed.<\/p>\n

Oh, summer summer summertime\u2014<\/p>\n

Then grim street preachers shook
their tambourines and Bibles in the face
of tolerant wickedness;
then Elks parades and big splendiferous
Jack Johnson in his diamond limousine
set the ghetto burgeoning
with fantasies
of Ethiopia spreading her gorgeous wings.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

D.A. Powell is the author of five collections of poetry, including <\/em>Chronic, winner of the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award and a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. His honors include the Gold Medal in Poetry from the California Commonwealth Club, as well as fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. He lives in San Francisco. His new collection, <\/em>Useless Landscape, or A Guide for Boys, was published in February 2012.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

One of the pleasures of reading a great poem over time is the way its meanings establish themselves (like the \u201ctrees of heaven\u201d that reclaim the space of \u201cquarrels and shattered glass\u201d) and grow sturdier, larger. I first read Robert Hayden\u2019s \u201cSummertime and the Living…\u201d at an age where I neither understood ellipses nor was […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":321,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4715],"tags":[6874,6873,6869,6868],"class_list":["post-28228","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-poem-stuck-in-my-head","tag-jack-johnson","tag-porgy-bess","tag-robert-hayden","tag-summertime-and-the-living"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nRobert Hayden\u2019s \u201cSummertime and the Living...\u201d by D. A. 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