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.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grace, and, oh,

The difference to me!


The Unsent Letter

        I shifted to fix my shirt cuff, and the reflection moved in synchronisation. I turned to scrutinise the illustration of my life. Before me stood a complete picture of my experiences. They were clearly etched into my face as lines on my forehead, as sunken pockets of skin underneath my eyes, and as the visible slump of my shoulders. A scar stretched from the inside of my elbow to my wrist, a constant and painful reminder of the Great War. I tore my eyes away from the eternal blemish. The man in the mirror grimaced as I attempted to smile. They say a picture tells a thousand words. If that’s true, then my picture tells a story of loss, devastation and constant sadness. That attempt at a smile says more than I could ever by speech.

Join now!

        I glanced briefly at the clock – 10:45am. Perfect. Pausing to collect my carefully written letter and envelope, I stepped into the new day. Following an unconscious routine, I stopped to check the door behind me before following the well-trod path to the road. My feet knew the stretch of road to my destination intimately. They followed their own routine, guiding me gently to the post office. My mind followed its own recognised pattern of thoughts. Being Tuesday, I suspected, if not knew, that I had a letter waiting for me from my mother. The precisely printed envelope I ...

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