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Explanation of Poem - The Unsent letter.

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Response to Poetry - Short Story Term 2 Explanation of Poem This story is a response to the poem "She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways" by William Wordsworth. The poem for me, illustrates a beautiful image of timelessness being interrupted. Lucy is almost portrayed as immortal; her beauty was so breath-taking. When she died, or "ceased to be", the author is just left astounded - "what has happened here?" My main inspiration for my story was the last paragraph. The character of Edward is ruled by routine. The war was a significantly distressing experience for him. He needed a stable friendship, and in Francesca, that's what he got. When Francesca "ceased to be" however, he was left feeling shell-shocked. There is no one else who knew the impact it would have on his life - "The difference to me!" "She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways" She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! - Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. ...read more.


Of Italian background, she was plagued with worry for her family back in her home country. Though she knew there was nothing she could do for them, the helplessness of the situation tore at her. It tore at my heart to see her so agitated. She didn't know that, however. This day it was going to be me that was adding to her anxiety. My birthday was the previous week - I had finally turned eighteen. My mother had sent me a card on the day, being particularly spontaneous of her and impressing both Francesca and myself. When Francesca realised what sort of letter it was however, she became more subdued. "Edward?" she asked me hesitantly. I grinned at her, sliding the card carefully from the perfectly addressed envelope. "Edward, must you...must you now subscribe?" I laughed, delighted as always by her small language errors. "Subscribe, Francesca? I'm sorry, but I don't understand exactly what you mean!" To my surprise, Francesca didn't join in with my laughter. "Edward! Don't laugh at me!" A touch of anger suited the Italian voice. "I'm sorry Francesca. Do you mean enlist? For the war?" She nodded, once again subdued. ...read more.


They encountered nothing. No familiar face. Instantly, I searched the room in more detail. Where was Francesca? My breath had disappeared slightly and I found myself gasping a little as I spoke to one of the elderly ladies behind the counter. "Francesca?" I asked. "Where is Francesca?" The lady, who in reality was undoubtedly younger than me, looked sympathetically up at my strained face. "Francesca left us last week, on Tuesday afternoon. It wasn't much longer after you came in that day." I was flabbergasted. "Why did she...?" The lady nodded understandingly at my inability to complete sentences. "She didn't give any reason for leaving. She said she just needed to leave." I blinked uncomprehendingly, nodded vaguely and turned abruptly to leave. My feet took me home, led me to my bedroom where I sat rigidly at my writing table. Mechanically, I placed the unsent letter to my mother back on the table it had been composed at that morning. Francesca, my only constant in an ever-changing life had suddenly pulled herself out of it. My heart, as it so frequently did when Francesca was involved, tore at the thought of no one knowing she was now gone. No one knowing how much she meant to me. "Oh Francesca," I sighed softly. No one would know the difference it made, when Francesca just ceased to be with me. 1 ...read more.

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