Dolor
I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper-weight,
All the misery of manila folders and mucilage,
Desolation in immaculate public places,
Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
Endless duplication of lives and objects.
And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,
Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,
Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,
Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,
Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate grey standard faces.
Commentary
The first time I read this poem1 I misinterpreted it as being just another rant (albeit a rather good one) against the increasing mechanization of modern society, and the concomitant death of craftsmanship and individuality. Certainly that is one of Roethke’s points, and it’s not one I disagree with. But the poet has a subtler message as well: that the insidious spread of uniformity across things has a deleterious effect on people. It’s easier to put a human being in a box when there are other boxes all around; easier to contain thought when the world seems merely a container for other objects. All neatly labeled and categorized and indexed, in inexorable, desolate order.
Construction
Notice how Roethke, like Whitman in “When I heard the Learn’d Astronomer” (Minstrels Poem #54), uses long and decidedly unpoetic words in clunky, choppy phrases to convey the stultifying effect of mechanical repetition and duplication. Unlike the Whitman poem, however, there is no final easing up, and so “Dolor” feels somewhat heavy-handed… On the other hand, “long afternoons of tedium” could very well have been the inspiration for a phrase we all know and love, so who am I to complain? :)
— Thomas
Minstrels Links
Poet #Roethke
Poet #Whitman
Afterthought
While I agree with the overall thrust of Roethke’s poem, on further reflection I must take exception to the first couple of lines: I happen to like the easy weight of sharp new pencils, the smell and texture of fresh sheets of paper. They always make me feel creative :)
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Ermm, let’s be honest. It was all of five minutes ago :) ↩
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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Soques Kimbol · 19 July 2002
You say you always like new pencils and blank paper :), but when I’ve had on my writer-hat and hit a block sometimes the unused-ness point its fingers at me. Pencils should be scattered across a desk, some blunt, some with broken tips – not forever sitting in a box.
What struck me about the poem was its sterility – in fact, when I started writing this comment I wrote “a block or a stale place” … and then I started thinking of waiting in government offices ;) .
–kimbol
Kathy Butler · 15 February 2005
When I first read this poem in high school, it tipped me off that I was not going to like being a secretary. But it payed my way through college, so a secretary I was–for too long. Roethke evocatively recreates the mood inside the mind of a thoroughly frustrated secretary–me!