Theodore Roethke’s “I Knew a Woman” is a complexly haunting and gorgeous view of a woman who’s beauty is so much more than skin deep. With a tone of wistful wanting and a hint of amusement, the reader is taken on a journey into the world of this man, experiencing not only the splendor that only he can see, but also the joy and pain that comes with loving, aging and wanting. Through a skilled combination of tone, connotative words and double meanings, imagery, figurative language and musical device, Roethke is able to give the reader a true and resonating picture of the woman he loves and paints the hidden beauty that seems hidden to all but him.
Roethke uses a first-person point of view to give an intimate picture of a woman he loves and admires in more ways than one. The tone is reflective, showing the woman who this man obviously loves, describing her as “lovely in her bones” and comparing her virtues to those of a goddess, of whom “only gods should speak” (1,5). This sets the scene for the poem, which speaks of the object of his affections with a hushed but proud reverence. The reader, through this tone, is taken into the life and love of an old man who loves this woman above all else; by the conclusion of the poem, the reader can’t help falling in love with the poem itself.
The use of connotative words and double meanings is the underlying foundation of the poem, and provides a tapestry upon which the rest of the poem is woven. In the first stanza, the women is described as “lovely in her bones,” clearly implying that this woman’s beauty is much more than skin deep; this beauty if fundamental, and is the core of who she is (1). The man sees that although maybe faded on the outside a bit, she is a “bright container” that “moved more ways than one,” and to the man that loves her, she is worthy of a Greek chorus (3,4). To this man, her inner beauty shines through so brightly that nothing, not even time, can eclipse it.
In the second stanza, the reader is shown the dance, literally and figuratively, between the two loves. The woman taught him “Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand,” showing that in many ways, she was the teacher in the relationship and taught him things he never thought he needed to learn (9). Besides dance moves, she taught him “touch” offering him her “undulant white skin,” implying that she not only taught him how to move on the dance floor, but showed him the beauty and simple dance that can be had by a touch between two lovers (10). When the two got together, she was “the sickle” and he “the rake,” showing again how she taught him what love could be (12), and what she offered, he “nibbled meekly from her proffered hand,” comparing himself to a shy bird just gaining enough confidence to trust her (11).
This trust is followed by the third stanza, in which the “shy bird” compares himself to a gander and his love to a goose, keeping with the bird imagery. The bird of his affection, however, keeps her song notes “quick” and “light and loose,” keeping the song between them quick and light, as though casting a spell on him (17). He goes on to describe how dazzled he was by her “flowing knees,” and how liquid and smooth her body and the way it moved was (18). In describing her, it’s as though she herself is the dance she taught to him; he states that “her several parts could keep a pure repose, / Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose,” showing how everything about her is fluid not only in movement but in being (18-19). To him, she is a magical creature that moves in “circles, and those circles moved,” showing the unexplainable ways in which she is constantly bewitching him (20).
The last stanza is rich with meaning, interweaving a deep love with a lesson to his readers:
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m a martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways). (22-28)
Again, the speaker is telling us something; he sees a lifecycle of seed turning to grass turning to hay, just as he has grown into an old man, and just as his love has grown from a seed of desire into a relationship into a resonating love of this woman. The evolution of all this is evident in his words, and leaves him “a martyr,” or a slave to the way she moves in her life and in his mind, for the imprint of her motion stays with him constantly, and he has found himself a willful slave to it (23). He’s gladly held captive in her power, for, “what’s freedom for” anyway, if not to know the everlasting joy and love that can be had in a relationship such as this, even if the love lives only in his mind (24). He proclaims her innocent beauty and soul, so pure that even her shadow is white, and claims that to love this woman would be an eternity unto itself, no matter how long (or short) the time, for to love her for one moment would be forever to him. He’s old, and his “old bones live to learn her wanton ways,” showing how he lives for just a moment with her, yearns to love her, and sees beneath the years and wrinkles and time into the essence of who she is, and loves her for it. In a classic and brilliant nod to J. Alfred Prufrock (henceforth to be known in this paper as “JaPru”), this old guy does not measure out his life in coffee spoons, but “by how a body sways” (28). In direct and startling contrast to JaPru, this man is old but embracing love and life and even a woman he may or may not have; he is making the effort, however, and living his life to the absolute fullest. While JaPru is essentially curled up in the emotional fetal position, the speaker of this poem flouts all that is proper and conventional and lives his life for the love of this woman, who may be plain to others but is spectacular to him.
The powerful use of connotative words and incredibly subtle didactic message is interwoven with vivid images that allow the reader to become part of the poem. The woman herself is described as having “the shapes a bright container can contain,” showing how alive and vibrant she is when speaking to him or sighing at birds, and also hinting at the substance that lies beneath the container, implying that the underlying treasure is what is important to the speaker (4). When speaking of her virtues, the speaker finds them so incredible that he knows that ancient Greek choruses would line up “cheek to cheek,” just to sing of her (7). When she teaches him to dance, she strokes his chin, giving the reader a clear picture of her loving touch, and then we are shown the dance. He is so entranced, he “nibbled meekly from her proffered hand,” again giving the reader an image of birds and showing a clear picture of a shy man taking a chance at love (11). She is described as having “undulant white skin,” having “flowing knees” and quivering hips, showing that she “moved in circles, and those circles moved” (10-21). The combination of imagery and shows this woman as the speaker sees her, as a lovely, bewitching, dancing muse for his love alone and is very telling about the speaker; a shy, worn man who is not afraid to try his hand at love.
Roethke interweaves alliteration liberally throughout the poem, giving it a depth and richness that complements the rhyme and structure. Although subtle, alliteration is sprinkled throughout, as in “container can contain” and “cheek to cheek” and “chin,” giving the poem a lyrical quality that makes it effortlessly readable (4,7,8). The rhyme pattern follows a seemingly random pattern, but that is deceptive. There are three “sets” of rhyming lines at the end of each stanza, causing each ending to be cemented by the rhyme and giving it a weight and a “pop” that engages the reader while declaring a point, making the entire poem not only easy to read, but enjoyable as well.
Roethke’s use of tone, connotation, imagery, figurative language and musical device make “I Knew a Woman” a poem which sings, impresses and haunts. With it’s didactic message, Roethke manages to show the aged old man as a true human being. With the love and lust usually reserved for younger men, he sees this woman not for her surface beauty, but for the dance and magic that lies beneath – in her bones. The mastery with which he uses all of his poetic tools leaves a poem that gives hope to the young and old alike and allows an impression to be left on the reader which lasts long after the dance is done.
Sources:
Roethke, Theodore. “I Knew a Woman.” The Norton Anthology of American Literature, shorter 6th edition. Eds. Patricia Wallace &David; Kalstone. New York: Norton 2003. 2641.
