A Poem and a Reflection

Annie Louisa Walker (1836-1907)

The Night Cometh

1
Work! for the night is coming;
2
Work! through the morning hours;
3
Work! while the dew is sparkling;
4
Work! 'mid the springing flowers;
5
Work! while the day grows brighter,
6
Under the glowing sun;
7
Work! for the night is coming,--
8
Night, when man's work is done.
9
Work! for the night is coming;
10
Work! through the sunny noon;
11
Fill the bright hours with labour,
12
Rest cometh sure and soon.
13
Give to each flying minute
14
Something to keep in store;
15
Work! for the night is coming,--
16
Night, when man works no more.
17
Work! for the night is coming;
18
Under the sunset skies,
19
While their bright tints are glowing,
20
Work! for the daylight flies;
21
Work! till the last beam fadeth,
22
Fadeth to shine no more;
23
Work! while the night is darkening,--
24
Night, when man's work is o'er.


The idea that this poem is addressing is quite clear even in the first word: "Work!"
Taking the era that this was written in into consideration, "work" would have been of major concern: settlers, farmers, etc. would constantly be labouring and working in their fields to make a living.

However, Annie Louisa Walker portrays these hardships in a more creative and admirable light; using beautiful and more friendly imagery than one would usually associate with work, she brings a sense of the allure of nature, and the accomplishment that comes with a productive day.

Using an example of her optimism; "Work! While the dew is sparkling/ Work! 'mid the springing flowers;" (3-4), she shows how even working in the morning can be pleasant, if not demanding. Her usage of the exclamation marks show the need for steady labour, and demonstrates the hardy nature of Canadian farmers.

This poem is a great poetic illustration of life in an earlier Canada, and it elucidates the natural beauty of the landscape.

A School Assignment Before I've Even Written an Introduction? -gasp- OH MY!

"No one knows what causes an outer landscape to become an inner one."
These immortal words, leaked from the thoughts of Margaret Atwood, inspired our teacher to assign to us a journal entry, which was meant to have us dig deep into our understanding of our lives so far, and analyze how the "landscape" we've been exposed to all our lives has helped us become the established, special person we are today . When you think about it, this is actually quite a hefty chore. Do they really expect us to delve through our pasts and pick through every experience; every house we've lived in, every school we've attended, every memorable event that could have theoretically grabbed us by the shoulders, given us a good talking too, and sent us on our way to our own "uniqueness" and developed personalities? Well, maybe most think not much of it, and write a callow, trivial memorandum that'll get them a decent mark, but no considerable recognition. I aim to truly think back, and reflect, on how the landscape (what a vague word to use, by the way) of Canada and the areas I've lived in have affected my disposition and traits.

Well, for starters, I've lived in the same smallish city (relative to others) for my entire life. Sure, my dearest parents have fantasized about living in a grand farmhouse, out in Hicksville, but we've always managed to never live up to that dream. Burlington is my reality, and I'm quite satisfied with it. Perhaps, staying in the same location, never letting go of the sacred, familiar place I hold so dear, is a leading factor in why I cannot seem to let go of other objects and ideas; material and immaterial things alike.
I am a packrat: always have been, always will be.
I consider myself naïve, easy to sway, clingy, and too easily attached to people, even when I know that it will all end in tears.
I can't seem to shake off these appendages to my personality, no matter how many self-help blogs, books, and websites I read. Oh well, oh well, oh well.

However, even though I have always lived in Burlington, our homes have not always been of consistent caliber. My family is an excellent example of a rags-to-riches tale.
I'll skip the older family history, but my parents started out in a shack-of-a-house, then moved up to a smaller-sized (yet larger than the previous) abode, and then onto a larger one, and then the grandest of them all: our current home. This life of modest housing and the budget of the non-rich has given me the respect for money and work, not to mention an awareness of how much money is a lot.

Alas, my city life has influenced me with advertisements, messages, pictures, and words to enjoy indulging in the form of shopping; maybe, if I had lived in the country with my family as they had all wished for, the fields and forests and wide-open landscapes would have affected my mentality differently than the shiny stores and fancy houses that I saw every day. Maybe I'd be more "in-tune" with nature, and more content to be without material goods (even though I haven't as much greed as others).

But, that would be a totally different me; a radically altered Samm. And I'm content with who I am now; whether it was the lack of true Canadian landscape, or the colourful city culture that created me.

I believe that's enough of thoughts and rationalization for today. Toodles.