“The Painted Ceiling” is a poem by Amy Lowell, an American poet of the early 20th century. The poem was first published in 1915 in her collection, “Men, Women and Ghosts”. It is a short but poignant work that explores the theme of lost love and the sorrow that comes with it.
The poem is structured into three stanzas, each consisting of four lines. It is written in free verse, with no consistent rhyme or meter, giving the poem a conversational and introspective tone. The title of the poem refers to a painted ceiling that the speaker describes in the first stanza, which serves as a metaphor for the relationship she has lost.
In the opening stanza, the speaker describes the painted ceiling in detail, noting its vivid colors and intricate patterns. She then goes on to say that the ceiling is like a dream that has vanished, leaving her with nothing but a memory of its beauty. This sets the tone for the rest of the poem, as the speaker reflects on the loss of something that was once beautiful and meaningful to her.
In the second stanza, the speaker admits that she still longs for the love she has lost, even though she knows it is gone forever. She compares her longing to the sound of a lute, which continues to echo even after the musician has stopped playing. This metaphor highlights the persistence of the speaker’s feelings, even in the absence of the object of her love.
The final stanza of the poem brings the themes of loss and longing to a close. The speaker acknowledges that the love she once had is gone, and that she must accept this fact and move on. She says that the painted ceiling, like her lost love, is now a thing of the past, and that she must learn to live without it. However, she also suggests that the memory of this love will always be a part of her, just as the image of the painted ceiling remains imprinted on her mind.
Overall, “The Painted Ceiling” is a beautifully crafted poem that explores the universal themes of loss and longing. Through the use of vivid imagery and metaphors, Lowell creates a powerful and poignant meditation on the nature of love and the human experience of grief.
The Painted Ceiling
With a great many windows and doors,
There are stairs that go up, and stairs that go down,
And such beautiful, slippery floors.But of all of the rooms, even mother’s and mine,
And the bookroom, and parlour and all,
I like the green dining-room so much the best
Because of its ceiling and wall.Right over your head is a funny round hole
With apples and pears falling through;
There’s a big bunch of grapes all purply and sweet,
And melons and pineapples too.They tumble and tumble, but never come down
Though I’ve stood underneath a long while
With my mouth open wide, for I always have hoped
Just a cherry would drop from the pile.No matter how early I run there to look
It has always begun to fall through;
And one night when at bedtime I crept in to see,
It was falling by candle-light too.I am sure they are magical fruits, and each one
Makes you hear things, or see things, or go
Forever invisible; but it’s no use,
And of course I shall just never know.For the ladder’s too heavy to lift, and the chairs
Are not nearly so tall as I need.
I’ve given up hope, and I feel I shall die
Without having accomplished the deed.It’s a little bit sad, when you seem very near
To adventures and things of that sort,
Which nearly begin, and then don’t; and you know
It is only because you are short.
