
November Poem of the Month - George Gray, By: Edger Lee Masters
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me--
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
November Poem of the Month - George Gray, By: Edger Lee Masters
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me--
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
The marble which was chiseled for me--
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
My Reflection
This poem is told from a retrospective point of view of a narrator looking at his gravestone and recalling the chances in life he didn’t take, regretting his decision to let life simply pass him by. The image drawn on his marble gravestone is a boat with its sails folded, not going out to sail. An extended metaphor is used throughout this poem of the boat not taking the chances out at sea, and instead staying safe and steady in the harbor. The narrator explains how he turned away the chance to feel sorrow, ambition, and love, because of fear. He admits that he’s learned now that people must take chances, that we must allow our sails to open and catch the wind, even though we don’t always know what’s going to happen. Otherwise, we’re surviving, but not really living. And that’s not really life at all.
My Reflection
This poem is told from a retrospective point of view of a narrator looking at his gravestone and recalling the chances in life he didn’t take, regretting his decision to let life simply pass him by. The image drawn on his marble gravestone is a boat with its sails folded, not going out to sail. An extended metaphor is used throughout this poem of the boat not taking the chances out at sea, and instead staying safe and steady in the harbor. The narrator explains how he turned away the chance to feel sorrow, ambition, and love, because of fear. He admits that he’s learned now that people must take chances, that we must allow our sails to open and catch the wind, even though we don’t always know what’s going to happen. Otherwise, we’re surviving, but not really living. And that’s not really life at all.
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