by Brett Vogelsinger
Gerard Manley Hopkins is one of the few poets whose work rings in my head every now and then ever since I first encountered his work in college. Every year in April when the world is flourishing back to life, I hear the words "when weeds in wheels shoot long and lovely and lush" and the sheer abundance of alliteration in his description of spring makes my heart sing a little.
"Pied Beauty" is another poem that sticks with me years after first reading it. I remember my professor elaborating on this poem -- a celebration of things that are speckled and spotted, not black-and-white, cut-and-dried -- about how remarkable it is that a Catholic priest wrote this poem, in a time when there was little tolerance of ambiguity.
Since the poem is in the public domain, I can present it here:
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.
The Hopkins Poetry website attaches the images of a speckled trout and a brindled cow to the poem, helping students to observe the pattern of each of the things Hopkins praises.
In truth, the word "pied" always threw me off a bit in this poem. I figured it must be related to the word "piety," given the references to God in the poem, but in reality, it simply means this: "having two or more different colors; synonyms: variegated, multicolored, tabby."
So after sharing the dictionary definition of this term with my students, I might say, "wouldn't it be fun to create our own, poetic definition of a word in addition to the dictionary definition? We can take the real definition and make it sound more like a poem. Or even imagine a different shade of meaning. For instance, I might take this definition of "pied" and write something like this . . ."
pied (adj) -- defying a simple category or binary, complicated and beautiful and stronger because of its ambiguity
Have students select another word from this poem -- adazzle or fickle or fallow -- perhaps words they do not know too well. Google search a dictionary definition to copy into their writer's notebooks, but then create a poetic definition for the word too, a variation, a speckled kind of denotation based on their understanding of the poem. How is it different, maybe even better than the first?
If you really feel like going deep: What would Gerard Manley Hopkins think of us expanding the definition of a word, and how can you tell this from the poem?
Further Reading:
Brett
Vogelsinger is a ninth-grade English teacher at Holicong Middle School in Bucks
County, PA. He has been starting class with a poem each day for the past
ten years. He is the creator of the Go Poems blog and the author of Poetry
Pauses: Teaching With Poems to Elevate Writing in All Genres. Find him on
Twitter @theVogelman.
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