Lowell doesn't offer the living sister the deeply regretful apology that was her due, no doubt because he had no idea it was her due. He rhymes decently enough, but his understanding is utterly commonplace and utterly irresponsible. That he and his countless brethren could be responsible for the tragedy he bemoans, never occurred to him. He wasn't, as they say, the sharpest tool in the box. The sister who was distractedly kissed by him and whom he never sees as just as vulnerable as her dead sister to Nature's assaults, receives no pity from him. Had she known where his head was when she was being kissed, she might've said "Then why am I here?" Guilt would've been beyond him to admit. He was strictly a tool of Nature. An enemy agent that obeys its master without the slightest pang of conscience, and indeed with a sense of perfect righteousness.
For me the true poetry begins with " I stood by the window..." up to that point the verse seems mostly cliche --I would say fluff and filler, except that they begin the poem. I think the poem could stand without the lines leading up to 'I stood by the window..." an abrupt in medias res would have worked better than the lackluster beginning as it stands. When Lowell was writing the hack eyed images were already wearing poorly.
I on the other hand enjoyed them ‘cliches’ and as a father felt his loss and his distracted grief.
Lowell doesn't offer the living sister the deeply regretful apology that was her due, no doubt because he had no idea it was her due. He rhymes decently enough, but his understanding is utterly commonplace and utterly irresponsible. That he and his countless brethren could be responsible for the tragedy he bemoans, never occurred to him. He wasn't, as they say, the sharpest tool in the box. The sister who was distractedly kissed by him and whom he never sees as just as vulnerable as her dead sister to Nature's assaults, receives no pity from him. Had she known where his head was when she was being kissed, she might've said "Then why am I here?" Guilt would've been beyond him to admit. He was strictly a tool of Nature. An enemy agent that obeys its master without the slightest pang of conscience, and indeed with a sense of perfect righteousness.
For me the true poetry begins with " I stood by the window..." up to that point the verse seems mostly cliche --I would say fluff and filler, except that they begin the poem. I think the poem could stand without the lines leading up to 'I stood by the window..." an abrupt in medias res would have worked better than the lackluster beginning as it stands. When Lowell was writing the hack eyed images were already wearing poorly.