“The Pleiades” is a beautifully crafted poem by American poet Amy Lowell, which was first published in 1918 in her collection of poems, “Pictures of the Floating World”. The poem is a tribute to the ancient Greek myth of the seven sisters, who were transformed into stars in the Pleiades constellation.
The poem opens with a description of the constellation, as seen through the eyes of the speaker. The speaker marvels at the beauty of the seven stars, which shine like “jewels” in the night sky. The speaker goes on to describe the “pale vapours” that surround the stars, which she likens to “wandering ghosts”.
Lowell’s use of vivid imagery creates a sense of wonder and mystery around the Pleiades. The stars are personified, as if they are living beings that have been transformed into celestial bodies. The use of personification is further emphasized when the speaker says that the stars “dance” in the sky, as if they are alive and moving to their own rhythm.
The poem also explores the theme of time and mortality. The speaker notes that the Pleiades have been shining in the night sky for thousands of years, and will continue to do so for thousands more. However, she also acknowledges that eventually, even the stars will “wane and die”. This juxtaposition of the eternal and the transitory creates a sense of melancholy, as the speaker reflects on the passing of time and the impermanence of all things.
Overall, “The Pleiades” is a hauntingly beautiful poem that captures the wonder and mystery of the night sky. Lowell’s use of vivid imagery and personification creates a sense of awe and reverence for the stars, while also exploring deeper themes of time, mortality, and the cycle of life and death.
The Pleiades
For it is up so very high.
You look and look, but it’s so blue
That you can never see right through.But when night comes it is quite plain,
And all the stars are there again.
They seem just like old friends to me,
I’ve known them all my life you see.There is the dipper first, and there
Is Cassiopeia in her chair,
Orion’s belt, the Milky Way,
And lots I know but cannot say.One group looks like a swarm of bees,
Papa says they’re the Pleiades;
But I think they must be the toy
Of some nice little angel boy.Perhaps his jackstones which to-day
He has forgot to put away,
And left them lying on the sky
Where he will find them bye and bye.I wish he’d come and play with me.
We’d have such fun, for it would be
A most unusual thing for boys
To feel that they had stars for toys!
