And The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls....

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

           I choose “The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in class because of its rhythm.  Whenever I searched for a poem to recite I would accidentally stumble upon music. I understand poetry best when it’s entwined with instruments and music. The difficulty of poetry is that the reader has to discover the intended rhythm. The beauty of Longfellow’s poem is that the chorus moves the poem. Longfellow’s lyrical style and numerous alliterations, allows the poem to flow. His use of imagery allows me to see, hear, and even taste the shore. 

As I recite this, I imagine a man who has just arrived by boat to a shore, just as “twilight darkens”. In my mind the man has a heavy trench coat on, is soaked, and struggling to hold himself upright. After I read “The traveler hastens toward the town” I can hardly remember the next line. The expression on the man’s face, tells me that he desperately wants to say something. But the closer the traveler is to the town, the more “the sea in darkness calls”. Instantly the man is pulled back to sea, and the waves eliminate any sign that he was there. Even when “the morning breaks” no one wonders what happened to the traveler. He is forgotten “as the hostler calls” and never revisits. Nature moves on without any assistance from humans. Yet humans require assistance from nature. The gravity and power of the tides have the power to push and pull us (so much so that their power lies between life and death). The man I imagine is not alive, but unaware that he is traveling in-between two worlds. The curlew, sea and hostler all have the ability to call, but the traveler remains silent. Death can make such a large impression on humans, yet it leaves no marks on nature. While this poem is gloomy, a message of hope exists. Just as life continues on earth after death, life will continue for the dead. We will not know where our next destination is but nature will direct us to it. We will all eventually become travelers hastening towards our next destination.