2. E.A.Robinson. Luke Havergal.

E.A. Robinson (1869 – 1935) is the first important poet of the twentieth century and famous for his use of the sonnet and the dramatic monologue. Many of his poems are on individuals and individual relationships; most of these individuals are failures. He is traditional in the use of meter; many of his longer works are in blank verse.

He moved from Gardiner, Maine to New York, where he led a precarious existence as an impoverished poet while cultivating friendships with other writers, artists, and would-be intellectuals, and in 1896 he self-published his first book, The Torrent and the Night Before, paying 100 dollars for 500 copies. Robinson meant it as a surprise for his mother. Days before the copies arrived, Mary Palmer Robinson died of diphtheria.

His second volume, The Children of the Night, had a somewhat wider circulation. Its readers included President Theodore Roosevelt's son Kermit, who recommended it to his father. Impressed by the poems and aware of Robinson's straits, Roosevelt in 1905 secured the writer a job at the New York Customs Office. Robinson remained in the job until Roosevelt left office.

Gradually his literary successes began to mount. He won the Pulitzer Prize three times in the 1920s.

Luke Havergal is a haunting poem of a dark and depressing tone; thirty-two lines about a desperately bereaved man being tempted by a voice from the grave to commit suicide in order to reunite with a beloved woman who is dead.

The protagonist Luke Havergal is grieving of his dead love. From the very beginning of the poem it’s clear that narrator pushes Luke to the action of going “to the western gate”. True meaning of the place becomes clear later in the poem, which it’s not an actual gate, but it symbolizes death, the end of life. The sun sits down at the west; therefore it represents the end of the cycle, the darkness, night and death. And the word “gate” represents the portal, the point of transition, the way to escape from the misery. The 1st line of the 2nd stanza “No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies” implies that there is no hope “to rift the fiery night that’s in your eyes” – to get out of depression Luke is in. “But there, where western glooms are gathering, the dark will end the dark if anything” – because there is no hope for Luke in the eastern skies, the only direction that left for him is “western glooms”, and there the “dark”-death will end the “dark”-misery. The stanza ends with narrator repeating “not a dawn” line, emphasizing that there is no hope, locking Luke in desperate set of mind.

In the third stanza narrator becomes an active character of the poem. The parts “out of the grave” and “quench the kiss” clue us on the idea that the speaker is Death, because in the Western culture grave is associated with grave and usually Death kisses her chosen ones. By kissing Luke, Death will “flame” his forehead, which implies madness, craziness. The words “blinds you to the way that you must go” mean that Luke will be blinded and led to the wrong path, sinful path, again suggesting the suicide. Then suicidal intentions are confirmed by words “there is yet one way to where she is” – Luke will join his love in death, “Bitter, but the one faith never miss” – it’s painful to die, but it’s a sure way to reconnect with her.

In the final stanza Death rushes Luke to the action. She hurries him because the fatal western gate with its “crimson leaves” of depression is fading away, as “winds are tearing them away”. Death warns him not to think of anything “nor think” and lock his senses “nor anymore to feel”, as any of those actions might change his suicidal mindset.

Luke Havergal

Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,

There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,

And in the twilight wait for what will come.

The leaves will whisper there of her, and some,

Like flying words, will strike you as they fall;

But go, and if you listen she will call.

Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal—

Luke Havergal.

No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies

To rift the fiery night that’s in your eyes;

But there, where western glooms are gathering,

The dark will end the dark, if anything:

God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,

And hell is more than half of paradise.

No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies—

In eastern skies.

Out of a grave I come to tell you this,

Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss

That flames upon your forehead with a glow

That blinds you to the way that you must go.

Yes, there is yet one way to where she is,

Bitter, but one that faith may never miss.

Out of a grave I come to tell you this—

To tell you this.

There is the western gate, Luke Havergal,

There are the crimson leaves upon the wall.

Go, for the winds are tearing them away,—

Nor think to riddle the dead words they say,

Nor any more to feel them as they fall;

But go, and if you trust her she will call.

There is the western gate, Luke Havergal—

Luke Havergal.