Ted Hughes

Ted Hughes

1930–1998 · lived 68 years

Ted Hughes was a prominent English poet, translator, and children's writer, celebrated for his powerful and visceral depictions of the natural world and its raw, primal forces. His poetry is characterized by its intensity, rugged language, and exploration of myth, the animal kingdom, and the darker aspects of human nature. Hughes's work often draws upon mythologies and folk traditions, imbuing his verse with a profound sense of elemental power and ancient wisdom.

n. 1930-08-17, Mytholmroyd · m. 1998-10-28, Southwark

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Work and Play

Work and Play

The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer,
A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage,
A whiplash swimmer, a fish of the air.


But the serpent of cars that crawls through the dust

In shimmering exhaust

Searching to slake

Its fever in ocean

Will play and be idle or else it will bust.


The swallow of summer, the barbed harpoon,
She flings from the furnace, a rainbow of purples,
Dips her glow in the pond and is perfect.

But the serpent of cars that collapsed on the beach

Disgorges its organs

A scamper of colours

Which roll like tomatoes

Nude as tomatoes

With sand in their creases

To cringe in the sparkle of rollers and screech.


The swallow of summer, the seamstress of summer,
She scissors the blue into shapes and she sews it,
She draws a long thread and she knots it at the corners.


But the holiday people

Are laid out like wounded

Flat as in ovens

Roasting and basting

With faces of torment as space burns them blue

Their heads are transistors

Their teeth grit on sand grains

Their lost kids are squalling

While man-eating flies

Jab electric shock needles but what can they do?


They can climb in their cars with raw bodies, raw faces

And start up the serpent

And headache it homeward

A car full of squabbles

And sobbing and stickiness

With sand in their crannies

Inhaling petroleum

That pours from the foxgloves

While the evening swallow
The swallow of summer, cartwheeling through crimson,
Touches the honey-slow river and turning
Returns to the hand stretched from under the eaves -
A boomerang of rejoicing shadow.
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Bio

Identification and basic context

Edward James "Ted" Hughes was a highly influential English poet, translator, and playwright. He is widely regarded as one of the most significant poets of the post-war era, known for his intense engagement with nature, myth, and the animal world. His major collections include The Hawk in the Rain (1957), Crow (1970), Moortown (1979), and Birthday Letters (1998). Born on August 17, 1930, in Mytholmroyd, West Riding of Yorkshire, England, he died on October 28, 1998, in North Tawton, Devon, England. His family background was working-class, with strong ties to the Yorkshire landscape, which profoundly shaped his poetic vision. He wrote exclusively in English.

Childhood and education

Hughes's childhood was spent in the rugged landscape of Yorkshire, an environment that deeply influenced his early perceptions and later poetry. His family ran a small shop, and his father had served in the trenches of World War I, experiences that he later incorporated into his work. He attended Mirfield Grammar School, where he discovered his passion for poetry. After completing his National Service, he studied English at Pembroke College, Cambridge, though he later transferred to study archaeology and anthropology, interests that would continue to inform his work. He was an avid reader, absorbing influences from classical mythology, folklore, and early English literature.

Literary trajectory

Hughes's poetic career began to gain momentum in the early 1950s. His first major collection, The Hawk in the Rain (1957), published by Faber and Faber, announced his arrival with its powerful, often violent, imagery and uncompromising engagement with the natural world. This collection established his reputation for a rugged, elemental style. He continued to develop this distinctive voice through subsequent works like Lupercal (1960) and Wodwo (1967). The Crow sequence (1970) marked a significant shift, employing a more mythic and philosophical approach, often using the trickster figure of Crow to explore themes of creation, destruction, and survival. His later works, such as Moortown and Birthday Letters, continued to explore personal experiences, myth, and the natural world with profound insight.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Hughes's major works include The Hawk in the Rain, Lupercal, Crow, Moortown, and Birthday Letters. His dominant themes are the power and brutality of nature, the interconnectedness of life and death, the presence of myth and ritual in contemporary life, and the struggle for survival. Hughes's style is characterized by its directness, its potent imagery drawn from the animal kingdom and the natural landscape, and its often startling violence. He employed strong rhythms and a muscular diction, frequently using Anglo-Saxon influences. His poems often feature animals—hawks, wolves, otters, badgers—as protagonists, exploring their instincts and their place in the larger cosmic order. He sought to return poetry to a more primal, elemental state, moving away from what he saw as the overly intellectualized or personal poetry of his predecessors. His innovations included a bold re-engagement with myth and a visceral portrayal of the animal psyche.

Cultural and historical context

Hughes lived through the latter half of the 20th century, a period marked by significant social and political change, including the Cold War, decolonization, and evolving attitudes towards the environment. His work, while often rooted in ancient myths and the natural world, resonated with contemporary anxieties about humanity's place in a rapidly changing and often violent world. He was associated with the "Movement" poets but forged a distinct path, often seen as more primal and less overtly political than some of his contemporaries. His marriage to the American poet Sylvia Plath and their subsequent, highly publicized, personal tragedies also placed him in the public eye, sometimes overshadowing his literary achievements.

Personal life

Hughes's personal life was marked by both profound love and intense tragedy. His marriage to Sylvia Plath, another highly regarded poet, was a central event in his life and the subject of his later collection Birthday Letters. Their relationship was passionate but also tumultuous, and Plath's suicide in 1963 cast a long shadow over his life and work. He later married Carol Orchard. Hughes was known for his deep connection to the land and his often solitary existence, dedicating much of his life to his writing and his love for animals and nature. He held strong beliefs about the spiritual and restorative power of the natural world.

Recognition and reception

Hughes achieved considerable recognition during his lifetime. He was appointed Poet Laureate in 1984, a position he held until his death, succeeding Sir John Betjeman. His work was consistently praised for its power, originality, and depth. While some critics found his work too violent or obscure, his reputation grew steadily, and he is now considered a central figure in 20th-century British poetry. His poems are widely anthologized and studied in schools and universities.

Influences and legacy

Hughes was influenced by classical poets, Shakespeare, the Romantics, and modernists, as well as by folklore, mythology, and anthropology. His legacy is immense; he revitalized the English poetic tradition by reintroducing a sense of mythic depth, elemental power, and visceral engagement with the natural world. He inspired generations of poets to explore the primal forces within nature and the human psyche, and to write with a bolder, more muscular language. His influence is evident in the work of many contemporary poets who continue to grapple with similar themes.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Hughes's poetry invites analysis of its relationship to myth, its exploration of the animal psyche, and its commentary on human violence and survival. Critics often discuss the balance between the beautiful and the brutal in his work, the role of myth in understanding contemporary experience, and the complex personal resonances within his poems, particularly concerning his relationship with Sylvia Plath. His poems continue to provoke discussion about humanity's relationship with nature and its own darker impulses.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Beyond his poetry, Hughes was also a significant children's author, writing books such as The Iron Man. He had a deep respect for animals and often found solace and inspiration in observing them. His dedication to his craft was unwavering, and he was known for his meticulous attention to language and form. His life, particularly his relationship with Sylvia Plath, has been the subject of considerable biographical and critical attention.

Death and memory

Ted Hughes died in London in 1998. His death was widely mourned, and his status as a major poet was firmly established. His final collection, Birthday Letters, published shortly before his death, offered a poignant and deeply personal reflection on his life and relationships. His legacy continues to be celebrated through ongoing critical study, new editions of his work, and the enduring influence of his powerful and elemental verse.

Poems

15

Lineage

Lineage


In the beginning was Scream
Who begat Blood
Who begat Eye
Who begat Fear
Who begat Wing
Who begat Bone
Who begat Granite
Who begat Violet
Who begat Guitar
Who begat Sweat
Who begat Adam
Who begat Mary
Who begat God
Who begat Nothing
Who begat Never
Never Never Never


Who begat Crow


Screaming for Blood
Grubs, crusts


Anything


Trembling featherless elbows in the nest's filth
298

Examination at the Womb-Door

Examination at the Womb-Door

Who owns those scrawny little feet? Death.
Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face? Death.
Who owns these still-working lungs? Death.
Who owns this utility coat of muscles? Death.
Who owns these unspeakable guts? Death.
Who owns these questionable brains? Death.
All this messy blood? Death.
These minimum-efficiency eyes? Death.
This wicked little tongue? Death.
This occasional wakefulness? Death.


Given, stolen, or held pending trial?
Held.


Who owns the whole rainy, stony earth? Death.
Who owns all of space? Death.


Who is stronger than hope? Death.
Who is stronger than the will? Death.
Stronger than love? Death.
Stronger than life? Death.


But who is stronger than Death?
Me, evidently.
Pass, Crow.
709

Crow's Nerve Fails

Crow's Nerve Fails

Crow, feeling his brain slip,
Finds his every feather the fossil of a murder.


Who murdered all these?
These living dead, that root in his nerves and his blood
Till he is visibly black?


How can he fly from his feathers?
And why have they homed on him?


Is he the archive of their accusations?
Or their ghostly purpose, their pining vengeance?
Or their unforgiven prisoner?


He cannot be forgiven.


His prison is the earth. Clothed in his conviction,
Trying to remember his crimes


Heavily he flies.
389

A Woman Unconscious

A Woman Unconscious

Russia and America circle each other;
Threats nudge an act that were without doubt
A melting of the mould in the mother,
Stones melting about the root.


The quick of the earth burned out:
The toil of all our ages a loss
With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought
(Not to be thought ridiculous)


Shies from the world-cancelling black
Of its playing shadow: it has learned
That there's no trusting (trusting to luck)
Dates when the world's due to be burned;


That the future's no calamitous change
But a malingering of now,
Histories, towns, faces that no
Malice or accident much derange.


And though bomb be matched against bomb,
Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure --
Earth gone in an instant flare --
Did a lesser death come


Onto the white hospital bed
Where one, numb beyond her last of sense,
Closed her eyes on the world's evidence
And into pillows sunk her head.


Submitted by Andrew Mayers
633

Bride and Groom Lie Hidden for Three Days

Bride and Groom Lie Hidden for Three Days

She gives him his eyes, she found them
Among some rubble, among some beetles


He gives her her skin
He just seemed to pull it down out of the air and lay it over her
She weeps with fearfulness and astonishment


She has found his hands for him, and fitted them freshly at the wrists
They are amazed at themselves, they go feeling all over her


He has assembled her spine, he cleaned each piece carefully
And sets them in perfect order
A superhuman puzzle but he is inspired
She leans back twisting this way and that, using it and laughing
Incredulous


Now she has brought his feet, she is connecting them
So that his whole body lights up


And he has fashioned her new hips
With all fittings complete and with newly wound coils, all shiningly oiled
He is polishing every part, he himself can hardly believe it


They keep taking each other to the sun, they find they can easily
To test each new thing at each new step


And now she smoothes over him the plates of his skull
So that the joints are invisible


And now he connects her throat, her breasts and the pit of her stomach
With a single wire


She gives him his teeth, tying the the roots to the centrepin of his body


He sets the little circlets on her fingertips


She stiches his body here and there with steely purple silk


He oils the delicate cogs of her mouth


She inlays with deep cut scrolls the nape of his neck


He sinks into place the inside of her thighs


So, gasping with joy, with cries of wonderment
Like two gods of mud
Sprawling in the dirt, but with infinite care
They bring each other to perfection.
334

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