Debt
(Sarah Teasdale)

What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Or gave my heart a song.

But oh, to him I loved,
Who loved me not at all,
I owe the open gate
That led through heaven’s wall.

Sara Teasdale’s life story is rather sad. Wonder how extreme sadness can always produce such beautiful poems. Always thought it was ironic.

Why? All sorts of obscure references and analogies to reference and look up. Heck, even bits of latin! So why teach something attainable to a common reader? Emotions… everyday metaphors. Bah. Things a reader could understand without an advanced degree? Who needs *that*? Especially if you’ve already *got* an advanced degree! And time on your hands and a reputation to build. Not to mention citation counts to accumulate, and tenure and advancment to earn!

I mean, really. One just can’t have just anyone understanding and debating the merits of a poem, people who, heavens, just picked the poem up and read through it. With no research! The university system would collapse. And *then* who would teach English literature and raise the next generation of professors?

Sorry about the rant. But I think this next century will be kinder to many of the (often female) poets of the early part of our last century. They were perhaps less sharp in their references to past literature, but I do think they did just as well cutting a fine edge with their choice of words, their subtle expression of feelings in a chosen few words, and ability to bring readers back to their own everyday world with new perspectives and insight.