Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Wallace Stevens’ Two at Norfolk explores themes of death, memory, familial legacies, and transcendent love within a richly symbolic and layered framework. The poem, set in a cemetery, uses its location to stage a meditation on the lives of the dead, their lingering impact, and the romantic union of a son and daughter, whose existence seems both tethered to and liberated from the histories of their parents. Through contrasting imagery and complex juxtapositions, Stevens crafts a narrative that intertwines the weight of generational duty with the ethereal beauty of human connection.

The opening line, “Mow the grass in the cemetery, darkies,” situates the poem in a charged historical and social context, reflective of Stevens’ time. The directive seems almost mundane, setting a scene of maintenance and care, but it also introduces racial and cultural undertones. The casual use of "darkies," now archaic and offensive, speaks to the systemic inequalities of the period and emphasizes the layered social hierarchies that underlie the cemetery?s symbolic resting place. The act of mowing the grass becomes a metaphorical gesture of both erasure and reverence—removing the overgrowth to preserve the memories of the dead.

The instruction to “study the symbols and the requiescats” implies a deeper engagement with the markers of death. The symbols and inscriptions on tombstones represent the identities and aspirations of those interred, yet they also mask the complexities of their lives. By suggesting that a bed be left beneath the myrtles, Stevens evokes a space of renewal or intimacy within the solemnity of the cemetery. The myrtle, a plant associated with love and immortality, contrasts with the skeletal remains beneath, signaling a tension between life’s fleeting passions and the permanence of death.

The second stanza introduces two unnamed individuals: “This skeleton had a daughter and that, a son.” These skeletal figures are reduced to their familial roles, devoid of individual identity, suggesting how memory simplifies the complexities of the deceased. The first skeleton is characterized by his inwardness and detachment—“the softest word went gurrituck in his skull.” The onomatopoeic “gurrituck” evokes a hollow, inhuman sound, highlighting his lack of emotional depth. His worldview is narrow, marked by estrangement: “For him the moon was always in Scandinavia / And his daughter was a foreign thing.” This geographical and emotional distance underscores his inability to connect with others, even his own child.

The second skeleton, described as “never a man of heart,” represents a similarly diminished existence, but his detachment is framed through duty rather than alienation. His relationship with his son is reduced to an obligation, devoid of affection or joy. Even when his son’s music “fell like a fountain,” the father’s praise is impersonal, directed not toward the boy’s unique artistry but toward “Johann Sebastian,” the canonical figure of classical music. This mechanical response contrasts with the son’s vitality and creativity, highlighting a generational dissonance.

In the fourth stanza, the focus shifts to the son and daughter—Jamanda and Carlotta—who emerge as living embodiments of passion and renewal within the shadows of the magnolias. These flowers, often associated with endurance and dignity, frame the union of the son and daughter in a setting both funereal and lush, bridging death and life. The two figures come to the cemetery, “he for her burning breast and she for his arms.” Their connection is both physical and transcendent, a defiance of the constraints and emotional aridity of their parental legacies. Their love, imbued with sensuality and mutual longing, contrasts sharply with the sterile relationships of their predecessors.

The final stanza captures the fragility and elusiveness of their union: “And these two never meet in the air so full of summer / And touch each other, even touching closely, / Without an escape in the lapses of their kisses.” The “air so full of summer” evokes a moment of heightened beauty and abundance, but the lovers’ intimacy is fleeting, dissipating in the very act of their embrace. This ephemerality underscores the transient nature of human connection, even as it affirms its transformative power.

The concluding line, “Make a bed and leave the iris in it,” reiterates the motif of renewal and love. The iris, symbolizing faith, hope, and valor, serves as a parting gesture of beauty and reverence, a counterpoint to the grim realities of death. By instructing that the bed be prepared, Stevens leaves open the possibility of future unions and continuities, even amidst the inevitability of mortality.

In Two at Norfolk, Stevens constructs a complex interplay between life and death, passion and detachment, inheritance and individual will. The cemetery becomes a space where the past exerts its influence but also where new possibilities emerge. Through its richly symbolic language and evocative contrasts, the poem affirms the enduring vitality of human connection, even in the shadow of mortality. The son and daughter, despite the weight of their lineage, embody a kind of redemptive love that transcends the limitations imposed by their forebears, offering a vision of life’s fleeting but profound beauty.

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