For A Poet

The title of the poem, “For a Poet,” as well as its dedication, to an amateur poet Cullen presumably had a relationship with, complicates the reading immediately, as it is unclear who the “Poet” is, John Gaston Edgar or Cullen himself. The poem, however, can be understood in both veins; it contains a subtle conversation with the writing self, while also functioning as an intimate statement to another. This double meaning adds a dramatic likeness to the poem, depicting the interior struggle of its composer.

The poem begins with the speaker referring to a metaphorical act in the past tense: “I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth” (Line 1). The completed task is in the past, though it is unclear how much time has passed. The dreams referenced in Line 1 are not those that occur solely at night; rather, they are the speaker’s hopes and future aspirations. These dreams equate to the ideal realization of the self, whether through oneself or through another. The silken cloth is a delicate, intimate image, one that may speak to affluence or finery. The cloth indicates a tender care, a luxury expended for something so important. In the second line, the “box of gold” accentuates the finery, but it also lends a religious dimension reminiscent of reliquaries often found in European churches. These boxes held the bones of saints and martyrs upon beds of silk. Equally, the box is treated in a manner similar to a coffin.

The third line contains a sensual element, the extended “cling” of “the lips of the moth.” There is a tenderness to this image, but the image is also infused with a natural sense of decay, combining love with an aspect of death. This fusion is Gothic in tone, but it more likely speaks to the influence of Romanticism, which often coupled love and death in this manner.

The repetition of the first line in the fourth line is at first a reaffirmation of the choice to wrap the dreams and put them away. The speaker reiterates that the choice is correct, that the proper care has been taken. This act of reaffirmation, however, belies an insecurity in the speaker, an uncertainty as to the efficacy of their metaphorical action.

The fifth line is intensely personal: “I hide no hate; I am not even wroth” (Line 5). The line is so personal in fact that it breaks with the poem's rhyme scheme to reveal a speaker far less guarded than the “I” in Line 1 who buries his dreams. The line is a negative characterization, suggesting a defensiveness, or a reluctant admittance of having felt those emotions previously. The use of “wroth” (Line 5) to describe a former anger is a heightening of the language, echoing Romanticism, but the use is also a rhetorical hiding of the emotion, downplaying its severity by concealing it under an archaic term. The statement is about the speaker putting these emotions behind himself, but the speaker cannot move on without mentioning these emotions, without affirming his present self is different from the self who experienced hate and wrath. Line 5 is the only enjambed line—a phrase carried over from one line to another—in the poem, and it rushes into the next line’s mysterious admission.

The sixth line is the speaker’s most direct description of what so troubled them that they felt they must bury their dreams. The speaker identifies themselves as “not even wroth / Who found earth’s breath so keen and cold” (Lines 5, 6). The nature of the “earth’s breath” (Line 6) is not explored further and carries a mysterious weight. Being of the earth speaks to a naturalness of being, but the paradox in the phrase “so keen and cold” (Line 6), which means eager and distant, or hostile, perhaps refers to the conflicting responses the speaker has experienced in the outside world. The reader must remain unsure of the specifics, yet aware that these experiences caused the speaker to feel hate and wrath.

Continuing the shift into high poetic speech to cover emotions, Line 6 is the only instance of perfect iambic pentameter—five iambic (unstressed-stressed) feet—in the poem. It is the clarion of poetic speech brought in to amplify the poem’s lowest moment, the harsh indifference of the world that makes the speaker want to guard themselves and foreswear their own dreams.

A tone of deep resignation hangs over the seventh and eighth lines. The repetition of the first two lines, this time, takes on the tone of deep resignation. The metaphorical action that began this cycle of remembrance and burial is again reflected upon, though with a heaviness that comes with its wearisome necessity. The empowerment of the action in the first lines has become an embittered inevitability. Ultimately, “For a Poet” is a single sentence, a lengthy admission that turns into a resigned acceptance of the need to put away what was once held precious.