Sundays too my father got up early And put his clothes on in the blueback cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. The speaker recalls the actions of a father who each Sunday rises early to dutifully make a fire and polish the good shoes for his son. Contrast Between Warmth and Cold The temperature settings of the poem can be compared to the actions of the speaker. No one ever thanked him. The title of the poem is appropriate in several ways. Robert Hayden was born in a poor suburb outside Detroit on August 4, 1913.
Because of the extreme cold, he makes sure that he wakes up his son only after the room is being warmed up; in spite he has all his hands in bad shape due to his work. He gives lyric expressions to the memories of his father related to his childhood stage. His backward look at his father is belatedly warm and appreciative. The words like 'slowly' and 'indifferently' stands for son's comprehensive attitude towards his father to be insulted in any way. Postal Service which featured him in a pane of stamps which showed 10 Great Twentieth Century American Poets.
He has written several novels and poems, which more similar to his life and mostly expressed the feelings of love and care in a family. But such was not the case for the man the poet called father. In the poem it is clear that there is distance between them and little communication. The first stanza reveals a lot of information. The racial discrimination might control and suppress all human activities, but not love. He uses this setting to knowledgeably compare his cold actions to the weather mentioned in the poem. The repetition does provide emphasis.
Robert Hayden Robert Hayden was a highly acclaimed African American poet of the 20th century. As he recalls his past, the now-adult speaker feels a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. For more information on Robert Hayden, visit the. What is not directly stated, but clearly implied is that the speaker, now an adult himself, better understands the plights of adulthood and the exertions his father completed for his son's comfort The poem is open to multiple interpretations. Robert Hayden was born Asa Bundy Sheffey on the 4th of August, 1913, in Detroit, Michigan to Ruth and Asa Sheffey.
From this line the reader can surmise the extent of the ungratefulness coming from the child and perhaps the regret of the now adult speaker. The rich subtext of the poem is accessible to students when they take the time to study the careful diction and sound devices. Though there is no pattern in the rhyme or rhythm of the poem, it is fourteen lines, which is one of the formal requirements of a sonnet. Perhaps the inability for a child to perceive the complexities and intricacies of the expression of love through means other than emotional affection serves as an even greater moral to be derived. Born in 1913, Hayden grew up in a destitute African American section of Detroit known as Paradise Valley. Getting up in the cold to warm his family requires selfless love.
The fire that the father builds is both a literal and symbolic act of love. That percussive, consonant-cooked vocabulary is like a melodic map into how to read the poem, linking the fire, the season, the father, and his son. Those Winter Sundays is a poem about a memory. It consists of four sentences broken up into three stanzas. This kind of love is not pretentious.
The task required effort and may have involved discomfort, if not pain. Sunday is the day of rest. Here the reader can see that there is not much compassion or love from the boy to the father. Son too, speaks indifferently to the father as if he does not know. Winters would have been cold and electricity scarce.
His adoptive father was a strict Baptist and manual laborer. What did I know, what did I know. Analysis This poem does not contain a lot of figurative languages; Hayden's style is simple and straightforward in a way that matches the cold, silent wintry morning that he is describing. The father basically says love in the simple act he does. He is ashamed of having taken for granted the self-sacrificing duties routinely performed morning after morning by his hard-working and undemonstrative parent. The words also provided me with the context.