Department of English
Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University
2202242 Introduction to the Study of English Poetry
Assignment 2 Discussion
General Comments:
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Read the following poem and answer the questions that follow.
From the Journals of the Frog Prince
(1978)
Susan Mitchell
(1944-)
In March I dreamed of mud, | |
sheets of mud over the ballroom chairs and table, | |
rainbow slicks of mud under the throne. | |
In April I saw mud of clouds and mud of sun. | |
Now in May I find excuses to linger in the kitchen | 5 |
for wafts of silt and ale, | |
cinnamon and river bottom, | |
tender scallion and sour underlog. | |
At night I cannot sleep. | |
I am listening for the dribble of mud | 10 |
climbing the stairs to our bedroom | |
as if a child in a wet bathing suit ran | |
up them in the dark. | |
Last night I said, “Face it, you’re bored. | |
How many times can you live over | 15 |
with the same excitement | |
that moment when the princess leans | |
into the well, her face a petal | |
falling to the surface of the water | |
as you rise like a bubble to her lips, | 20 |
the golden ball bursting from your mouth?” | |
Remember how she hurled you against the wall, | |
your body cracking open, | |
skin shriveling to the bone, | |
the green pod of your heart splitting in two, | 25 |
and her face imprinted with every moment | |
of your transformation? | |
I no longer tremble. | |
Night after night I lie beside her. | |
“Why is your forehead so cool and damp?” she asks. | 30 |
Her breasts are soft and dry as flour. | |
The hand that brushes my head is feverish. | |
At her touch I long for wet leaves, | |
the slap of water against rocks. | |
“What are you thinking of?” she asks. | 35 |
How can I tell her | |
I am thinking of the green skin | |
shoved like wet pants behind the Directoire desk? | |
Or tell her I am mortgaged to the hilt | |
of my sword, to the leek-green tip of my soul? | 40 |
Someday I will drag her by her hair | |
to the river--and what? Drown her? | |
Show her the green flame of my self rising at her feet? | |
But there’s no more violence in her | |
than in a fence or a gate. | 45 |
“What are you thinking of?” she whispers. | |
I am staring into the garden. | |
I am watching the moon | |
wind its trail of golden slime around the oak, | |
over the stone basin of the fountain. | 50 |
How can I tell her | |
I am thinking that transformations are not forever? | |
--Susan Mitchell |
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1. allusion (overt/explicit) (4 points) This poem is included in the collection Disenchantments: An Anthology of Modern Fairy Tale Poetry (1985). How is Mitchell’s allusion to the well-known fairy tale a critique of that version? What does her story and shift in focus from the princess to the prince say about the enchanting idea of love, physical appearance (“Beauty and the Beast” and Shrek also play with these themes), and ever after? What disenchantments are there that make it belong in a collection of that name?
Comments: You have read that allusion is a "reference to another work" in the coursebook and we have discussed allusion in class, looking at Cullen's reference to Tantalus and Sisyphus in his poem "Yet Do I Marvel." Here is another example of overt or explicit allusion where the reference is made obvious both in the title and in the poem itself. In this case, you are not asked to merely identify the allusion, but to think about the role that allusion plays in the poem. |
2. overstatement/hyperbole, review of denotation/connotation (3 points) Look up the word mortgage in a dictionary that gives etymological information such as the Oxford English Dictionary (CL ref 423 Oc98 1989). Taking into consideration the meaning of the components that make up this word in the original French, do you think the prince is overstating his condition?
3. understatement/litotes, review of simile (3 points) We have seen dreams described in previous poems in connection to ideas of freedom and captivity. Explain how the frog prince may be expressing similar wishes in this simile describing the princess: “But there’s no more violence in her / than in a fence or a gate.” The image of the fence or gate seems passive enough (especially in contrast to the preceding aggressive imaginings of the prince, or is it merely understated passivity?). How is comparing the princess to a fence or gate related to freedom or captivity? How violent can she be?
4. allusion (covert/implicit) (2 bonus points) The allusion to the fairy tale frog prince is an overt one. Mitchell makes another, less explicit reference, to a previous retelling of the story. What elements do you find in Mitchell’s “From the Journals” that connect it to a poem by Anne Sexton?
Side by side view of Mitchell's and Sexton's versions of "The Frog Prince"
From the Journals of the Frog Prince (1978) |
The Frog Prince (1971) |
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by Susan Mitchell |
by Anne Sexton |
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In March I dreamed of mud, |
Frau Doktor, |
||
sheets of mud over the ballroom chairs and table, | Mama Brundig, | ||
rainbow slicks of mud under the throne. | take out your contacts, | ||
In April I saw mud of clouds and mud of sun. | remove your wig. | ||
Now in May I find excuses to linger in the kitchen | 5 | I write for you. | 5 |
for wafts of silt and ale, |
I
entertain. |
||
cinnamon and river bottom, | But frogs come out | ||
tender scallion and sour underlog. | of the sky like rain. | ||
At night I cannot sleep. | Frogs arrive | ||
I am listening for the dribble of mud | 10 | With an ugly fury. | 10 |
climbing the stairs to our bedroom | You are my judge. | ||
as if a child in a wet bathing suit ran | You are my jury. | ||
up them in the dark. | |||
My
guilts are what |
|||
Last night I said, “Face it, you’re bored. | we catalogue. | ||
How many times can you live over | 15 | I’ll take a knife | 15 |
with the same excitement | and chop up frog. | ||
that moment when the princess leans | |||
into the well, her face a petal | Frog has no nerves. | ||
falling to the surface of the water | Frog is as old as a cockroach. | ||
as you rise like a bubble to her lips, | 20 | Frog is my father’s genitals. | |
the golden ball bursting from your mouth?” | Frog is a malformed doorknob. | 20 | |
Remember how she hurled you against the wall, | Frog is a soft bag of green. | ||
your body cracking open, | |||
skin shriveling to the bone, | The moon will not have him. | ||
the green pod of your heart splitting in two, | 25 |
The
sun wants to shut off |
|
and her face imprinted with every moment | like a light bulb. | ||
of your transformation? | At the sight of him | 25 | |
the stone washes itself in a tub. | |||
I no longer tremble. | The crow thinks he’s an apple | ||
and drops a worm in. | |||
Night after night I lie beside her. | At the feel of frog | ||
“Why is your forehead so cool and damp?” she asks. | 30 | the touch-me-nots explode | 30 |
Her breasts are soft and dry as flour. | like electric slugs. | ||
The hand that brushes my head is feverish. | Slime will have him. | ||
At her touch I long for wet leaves, | Slime has made him a house. | ||
the slap of water against rocks. | |||
Mr. Poison | |||
“What are you thinking of?” she asks. | 35 | is at my bed. | 35 |
How can I tell her | He wants my sausage. | ||
I am thinking of the green skin | He wants my bread. | ||
shoved like wet pants behind the Directoire desk? | |||
Or tell her I am mortgaged to the hilt | Mama Brundig, | ||
of my sword, to the leek-green tip of my soul? | 40 | he wants my beer. | |
Someday I will drag her by her hair | He wants my Christ | 40 | |
to the river--and what? Drown her? | for a souvenir. | ||
Show her the green flame of my self rising at her feet? | |||
But there’s no more violence in her | Frog has boil disease | ||
than in a fence or a gate. | 45 | and a bellyful of parasites. | |
He says: Kiss me. Kiss me. | |||
“What are you thinking of?” she whispers. | And the ground soils itself. | 45 | |
I am staring into the garden. | |||
I am watching the moon | Why | ||
wind its trail of golden slime around the oak, | should a certain | ||
over the stone basin of the fountain. | 50 | quite adorable princess | |
How can I tell her | be walking in her garden | ||
I am thinking that transformations are not forever? | at such a time | 50 | |
and toss her golden ball | |||
up like a bubble | |||
and drop it into the well? | |||
It was ordained. | |||
Just as the fates deal out | 55 | ||
the
plague with a tarot card. |
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Just
as the Supreme Being |
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drills
holes in our skulls to let |
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the Boston Symphony through. | |||
But I digress. | 60 | ||
A loss has taken place. | |||
The ball has sunk like a cast-iron pot | |||
into the bottom of the well. | |||
Lost, she said, | |||
my moon, my butter calf, | 65 | ||
my yellow moth, my Hindu hare. | |||
Obviously it was more than a ball. | |||
Balls
such as these are not |
|||
for sale in Au Bon Marche. | |||
I
took the moon, she said, |
70 | ||
between my teeth | |||
and now it is gone | |||
and I am lost forever. | |||
A
thief had robbed by day. |
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Suddenly the well grew | 75 | ||
thick and boiling | |||
and a frog appeared. | |||
His eyes bulged like two peas | |||
and his body was trussed into place. | |||
Do not be afraid, Princess, | 80 | ||
he said, I am not a vagabond, | |||
a cattle farmer, a shepherd, | |||
a doorkeeper, a postman | |||
or a laborer. | |||
I come to you as a tradesman. | 85 | ||
I have something to sell. | |||
Your
ball, he said, |
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for just three things. | |||
Let me eat from your plate. | |||
Let me drink from your cup. | 90 | ||
Let me sleep in your bed. | |||
She thought, Old Waddler, | |||
those three you will never do, | |||
but she made the promises | |||
with hopes for her ball once more. | 95 | ||
He brought it up in his mouth | |||
like a tricky old dog | |||
and she ran back to the castle | |||
leaving the frog quite alone. | |||
That evening at dinner time | 100 | ||
a knock was heard at the castle door | |||
and
a voice demanded: |
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King’s youngest daughter, | |||
let me in. You promised; | |||
now open to me. | 105 | ||
I have left the skunk cabbage | |||
and the eels to live with you. | |||
The
king then heard of her promise |
|||
and forced her to comply. | |||
The
frog first sat on her lap. |
110 | ||
He was as awful as an undertaker. | |||
Next he was at her plate | |||
looking over her bacon | |||
and
calves’ liver. |
|||
We
will eat in tandem, |
115 | ||
he said gleefully. | |||
Her fork trembled | |||
as if a small machine | |||
had entered her. | |||
He sat upon the liver | 120 | ||
and partook like a gourmet. | |||
The princess choked | |||
as if she were eating a puppy. | |||
From her cup he drank. | |||
It wasn’t exactly hygienic. | 125 | ||
From her cup she drank | |||
as if it were Socrates’ hemlock. | |||
Next came the bed. | |||
The silky royal bed. | |||
Ah! The penultimate hour! | 130 | ||
There was the pillow | |||
with the princess breathing | |||
and there was the sinuous frog | |||
riding up and down beside her. | |||
I have been lost in a river | 135 | ||
of shut doors, he said, | |||
and I have made my way over | |||
the wet stones to live with you. | |||
She woke up aghast. | |||
I suffer for birds and fireflies | 140 | ||
but not frogs, she said, | |||
and threw him across the room. | |||
Kaboom! | |||
Like a genie coming out of a samovar, | |||
a handsome prince arose in the | 145 | ||
corner of her royal bedroom. | |||
He had kind eyes and hands | |||
and was a friend of sorrow. | |||
Thus they were married. | |||
After all he had compromised her. | 150 | ||
He hired a night watchman | |||
so that no one could enter the chamber | |||
and he had the well | |||
boarded
over so that |
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never
again would she lose her ball, |
155 | ||
that
moon, that
Krishna hair, |
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that
blind poppy, that innocent globe, |
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that madonna womb. |
Susan Mitchell |
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Bibliography
Mitchell, Susan. Erotikon: Poems. New York: HarperCollins, 2000.
Review at Amazon.com
Blurb from HarperCollins
"Miltons: Susan Mitchell's Erotikon and Carol Frost's Love and Scorn: New and Selected Poems" by Catherine Daly (review)
Mitchell, Susan. Rapture. New York: HarperPerennial, 1992.
Reviews at Amazon.com
Blurb from HarperCollins
Rapture by Susan Mitchell (1992 review by Diann Blakely at Ploughshares)
Mitchell, Susan. The Water Inside the Water. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 1983.
"Getting the Colors Right" by Alfred Corn (1984 review in The New York Times)
Anne Sexton |
Books by or on Sexton at Chula
McClatchy, J. D., ed. Anne Sexton: The Artist and Her Critics. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1978. (Arts PS3537.E915 A613)
Sexton, Anne. The Awful Rowing Toward God. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1975. (Arts PS3537.E915 S518A)
Reference
Mitchell, Susan. "From the Journals of the Frog Prince." The New Yorker 15 May 1978: 40.
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Last updated August 21, 2007