Wong

Wong Jia Yi Geraldine

A0101522A
Dr. Susan Ang
EN4264: Modern Poetry
Final Essay
Question 3
Barbara Herrnstein Smith asks us to consider the question of closure
in poetry, asserting that epigrammatic closure, in both its
techniques and its expressive effects, would naturally be associated
with neoclassical verse, we can see what those broad outlines might
come to: closure in Renaissance poetry tended to be strong and
secure, in Augustan poetry to be maximal, in Romantic poetry to be
weak, and in modern poetry it has become minimal. Would you
agree? Make a case for modern poetry and what you perceive to be
its degree of closure, considering how closure might be manifested,
and what its degree might suggest and be influenced by.

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Closure, as defined by Barbara Herrnstein Smith,

occurs when the concluding portion of a poem creates in the
reader a sense of appropriate cessation. [ I]t gives ultimate
unity and coherence to the readers experience of the poem
by providing a point from which all the preceding elements
may be viewed comprehensively and their relations grasped
as part of a significant design (37).
The quote from Smith,
epigrammatic
expressive

closure,

effects,

in

would

both

its

naturally

techniques
be

and

associated

its
with

neoclassical verse, we can see what those broad outlines

might come to: closure in Renaissance poetry tended to be
strong and secure, in Augustan poetry to be maximal, in
Romantic poetry to be weak, and in modern poetry it has
become minimal (267),
may be misinterpreted as Smiths suggestion that closure is a
characteristic that allows for poetry of a particular historical period
to be distinguished from poetry of another historical period. Yet, in
the unquoted lines that follow, Smith lucidly subverts such
historicised taxonomisations: whereas certain forms and devices of
closure are more appropriate to and effective for particular styles
and structures, their appearance is not otherwise confined to any
particular period (268).
Like Smith, I think it is fallacious to assume that minimal
closure is a defining characteristic of modern poetry because,

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although minimal closure may be prevalent in modern poetry,

modern poetry, with its plurality of concerns and forms, manifests
different degrees of closure. While Eliots poems tend to be anticlosural, closure in Audens poems tends to be strong; in fact, even
within Eliots oevre and Audens oevre, closure may be observed to
vary from weak to strong, from anti-closural to closural, from
mimimal to maximal. Referring to poems by Eliot and Auden, read
through the lenses of closure as formulated in Smiths dissertation, I
aim to show that while minimal closure may be apposite for modern
poems that are characterised by suspicion, especially those that are
suspicious of poetics, minimal closure is not appropriate and
therefore not applied in modern poems that espouse confidence,
especially those that are confident of poetics. Closure in poems
classified as modern poetry, I argue, is not necessarily correlated to
its arbitrary historical categorisation, but necessarily varies
according to each poems content and in fact contributes to it.
Nevertheless, Instructive it may be to peer through lenses
(Auden, I Am Not A Camera 16) that generalise, to pay attention to
the trends amongst the poems collectively considered modern
poems and scrutinise modern poetrys tendencies towards weak
closure (16). Smith observes,
In much modern poetry and in modern poems otherwise quite
dissimilar in style, closure does indeed tend to be weak.
Broadly speaking, this tendency reflects the proliferation and
dominance of forms and modes such as free verse and interior

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monologue in which the structural resources of closure are

minimal, along with a general preference for a deliberate
cultivation of the expressive qualities of weak closure (271).
The prevalence of mininal closure in modern poetry may further be
attributed to the fact that while poetry in the past villified weak
closure, by the time the modern poets were writing, a positive
value [had been] placed on the unfinished look as a possible and
often, preferrable conclusion that matches form to content (Smith
274). To the extent that anything other than weak conclusion would
leave [the reader] dissatisfied because the poems weak closure is
experienced as an essential part of [the poems] design, weak
closure is specifically anti-closure (Smith 265). In much modern
poetry, Smith notes, the occasion for a poem, the stimulus for a
poem, is more likely to be the existence of an ultimately
unresolvable process such that correspondingly, the conclusion is
more likely to be a question than an answer, more likely to be anticlosural (Smith 282). Indeed, many modern poems, especially those
written by Eliot in his earlier days appear to be driven by an
ultimately unresolvable process (Smith 282) and thus find[s]
expression (Eliot, Portrait of a Lady 110) in anti-closure.
Although Smiths assertion that the conclusion in a modern
poem is more likely to be a question than an answer, if taken
literally, would, however, be an overstatement, Portrait of a Lady
does in fact end with an explicit question that epitomises anticlosure (Smith 282).

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This music is successful with a dying fall

Now that we talk of dying
And should I have the right to smile? (122-4)
As the question is not rhetorical, it incites discontent and
evade[s] stability, exemplifying weak closure (Smith 283). On a
semantic level, ending with a question is destabilising as it keeps
the reader in suspense. Subliminally as well, the question with its
raised intonation signalled by the question mark upsets the cadence
established by lines 122 and 123. Additionally, the awkward
truncation in the rhythm of line 123, which is significantly shorter
than line 122 and end-stopped with an em dash that enacts a short,
sharp breath, makes palpable the dissonance of the interjection
appended in the last line that is experienced as weak closure.
Weak closure may be considered anti-closure insofar that
weak closure befits the themes of insecurity and uncertainty in
Portrait of a Lady. The speaker in Portrait of a Lady is unsure,
amongst other things, how to express himself. He struggles to find
expression (110), dramatising his groping for the right word with
the ellipsis in the line To find expressiondance, dance (110).
Furthermore, the repetition of dance dramatises his stuttering as
he stumbles in the dark only to find an inadequate expression, a
simile, Like a dancing bear (111). This simile, along with the other
similies, Cry like a parrot (112) and chatter like an ape (112),
ironically disavows sameness between the action and the animal in
its very attempt to display similarity. The slippage inherent in similes

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emphasises the limitations of language that Smith identifies as a

modern suspicion of langauge (289). In fact, language seems to
be emptied of signification in the case of a parrots cry and an apes
chatter, which only mimic human sounds without conveying
meaning. Regardless of what the poetic persona says and what the
poet says via the poetic persona, the reader is left very much in the
same emotional and epistemological crisis as the speaker himself,
Doubtful (118), Not knowing what to feel or if [he] understand[s]
(119). Weak closure then, heightens the readers awareness of his
inability to be certain that he has completely captured the poems
telos and fully internalised the poem in its original intent.
Given that modern poets are hyper-aware that authorial intent
in its integrity can never be conveyed to a reader as words slip,
slide, perish,/Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place (Four
Quartets, Burnt Norton V), it seems fitting that Eliot, like many
other modern poets cognizant of the impossibility of expressionto
make ones thoughts and feelings knownespecially through the
fallen medium of words, expresses the inherent solipsism of (poetic)
discourse through weak closure. If [] we recognize that the
suspicion

of

language

itself

is

significant

aspect

of

the

contemporary malaise, one may see the development of a poetry of

non-statement as a possible consequence of this and anti-closure
in Portrait of a Lady as metonymic of anti-closure in modern poetry
(Smith 289). Indeed, the speaker in Portrait of a Lady shares in a
similar predicament as Eliots Prufrock who bemoans, It is

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impossible to say just what I mean! (Eliot, The Love Song of J.

Alfred Prufrock 104) and Eliots Hollow Men who grope together/
And avoid speech (Eliot, The Hollow Men 58-9). There appears to
be a case for minimal closure to be considered representative of
Eliots poetry, and by extension, modern poetry, insofar that
Eliots/modern poetry is largely driven by a suspicion of language
that poetry from previous historical periods are generally not as
engaged in. Yet, despite skepticism of language appearing to be
characteristic of the modern period and weak closure consequently
symptomatic of modern poetry, suspicion of language has roots that
extend much further down in history, long before the modern
period, to the Tower of Babel perhaps.
Moreover, skepticism of language is not the only possible
impetus for weak closure, which is a convenient container for a
myriad of uncertainties, of being really in the dark (Eliot, Portrait
of a Lady 101). Darkness as a symbol of unenlightenment invokes
the ancient philosophers, Plato with his shadows of ignorance that
echoes Socrates aphorism that all he knows is that he knows
nothing. To claim the themes of insecurity and uncertainty as
modern, however, overlooks the timelessness of our epistemological
crisis, which is our perennial human condition, not a modern
affliction. Given that doubt is not exclusive to modern poetry, anticlosure (minimal closure), which is engendered by doubt, does not
accurately represent a definitive quality of modern poetry.

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In fact, modern poetrys most striking characteristic [] is its

stylistic multiplicity. Not only are the forms various, but also the
modes

and

mannerisms,

the

implied

aesthetics,

and

the

allegiances (Smith 268, emphasis own). With its diverse concerns

and hence varied degrees of closures, modern poems, even poems
by a single modern poet are hardly homogenous. Even Eliot, who is
(in)famous for anti-closure and weak closure, displays sufficiently
strong closure in poems such as Ash Wednesday. The last section
of Ash Wednesday begins with
Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn (185-7),
which is a variation of how the first section begins:
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn (1-3).
Through symmetry and asymmetry, the last section clearly shows
how the speaker has undergone a psychological and spiritual shift
from outright reluctance to repent, to a repentance for his earlier
unrepentance, a development that secures thematic closure.
Formally too, strong closure is visible with the last line standing on
its own in a single-line stanza and audible through the pounding
monosyllables that make emphatic the speakers desperate plea,
And let my cry come unto Thee (219), with Thee rhyming with
sea (217) to euphonic effect that has further closural impact.

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Possibly, closure in Ash Wednesday is relatively stronger than in

Portrait of a Lady because the former features a man of faith who
eventually finds some still[ness]/ Even among these rocks (212-3),
even in the midst of discomforting internal conflicts, as opposed to
the faithless speaker in the latter. That faith and its lack thereof can
account for the differences in closure between the two poems
suggests that closure is more closely tied to the specific content of a
poem rather than its position in history.
Modern poetry, an arbitrarily historicised categorisation of
varied poems, consists in fact of many examples of strong closure.
Audens In Memory of W. B. Yeats for one, concludes not just with
strong closure but with maximal closure, thematically and formally
strong. It secures thematic closure by building up to a climatic
concluding section that fulfills the expectations raised by the title
and counters the bathos produced by the preceding sections. The
first section is an anticlimatic way of remembering Yeats; it deflates
the impact of Yeats death through qualification, A few thousand
will think of this day/As one thinks of a day when one did something
slightly unusual (29, emphasis own). The second section adds
insult to injury by implicating all of poetry in what is prima facie a
devaluation firstly of Yeats poetry for failing to metaphorically cure
Ireland of her madness (35) and more severely, a devaluation of
all of poetry for failing to directly effect practical change, For poetry
makes nothing happen (36). The third/final section, however,
delivers a satisfying twist that emphatically honour[s] (42) Yeats.

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The last three stanzas in fact linguistically resurrect Yeats through
the striking use of the present tense (persuade, sing, teach
etc.) (57, 60, 65) to address the deceased poet. Alternatively, or
simultaneously, the apostrophe to Yeats may be read as a clarion
call to an heir of Yeats legacya poet (54) living, developing or
unbornwhom he repeatedly summons to follow (54) in Yeats
footsteps. As a tribute in memory of Yeats, the poem demonstrates
a

definite

telos

that

unambiguous

thematic

closure

fittingly

reinforces.
Reinforced by formal closure, strong thematic closure in In
Memory of W. B. Yeats secures maximal closure. [T]he conditions
for maximal closure will arise when the structural forces in a poem
predetermine its conclusion most rigorously and when the greatest
number or concentration of special [literary] devices appear in its
terminal lines (Smith 223). Exclusive to the concluding section of
In Memory of W. B. Yeats are some literary devices with closural
capacity. Most prominently, the closing section with its consistently
heptasyllabic, trochaic, rhyming couplets, set against the irregular
and unrhymed sections that precede it, exploits the closural
potential of couplet rhymes and regular rhythm. Not only is the last
section the most closural of all sections, the last stanza is the most
closural of all stanzas and the last line the most closural of all lines.
The accretion of closural devices reaches a climatic conclusion
through a crescendo that begins where the series of imperatives

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begin, in the antepenultimate stanza, and concludes in the ultimate
stanza.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;

With the farming of a verse

Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;

In the deserts of the heart

Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise. (54-65)
The ultimate stanza is particularly closural because it combines
rhetorical devices typical of emphatically patterned speech (Smith
192), parallelism (In the) and antithesis (deserts versus healing
fountain and prison versus free). Additionally, the last stanza
evokes images of prison and deserts, images that respectively
mirror the cell (27) and the desert, which can be found in the root
word hinted at through the transegmental drift of deserted (2),
from Section I. These repeated images bring the poem full circle and
firmly establish a sense of finality in the concluding stanza, which

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ends with the most closural of all the lines, the only monosyllabic
line in the final section. The poem acheives a fulfilling climax that
intensifies Audens confidence in the redeeming powers of poetry
poetrys capacity to persuade us to rejoice (57), to inspire hope, to
make a vineyard of the curse (59), to make beauty out of atrocity,
to Let the healing fountain start (63), to lead the process of
recovery and revitalisation, and to Teach the free man how to
praise (65) even In the prison of his days, to remind us to
appreciate our freedom however limited. Audens rousing appeal to
his

reader

to

be

taught

by

Yeats

to

similarly

use

ones

unconstraining voice (56) to write poetry that inspires, beautifies,

salves, and educates, is also amplified by maximal closure.
Indeed, strong closure makes emphatic Audens valourisation
of poetrys aesthetic, spiritual and emotional value that are urgently
required in the wake of the looming war insinuated by the sinister
bark[s] (47) of All the dogs in Europe (47) as all the living
nations wait,/ Each sequestered in its hate (48-9), isolated from
and

antagonistic

towards

one

another.

For

Auden,

despite

individuals being trapped each in the cell of himself (27), the

experience a poet endeavours to embody in a poem is an
experience of reality common to all men; it is only his in that this
reality is perceived from a perspective which nobody but he can
occupy (Secondary Worlds 131). The universality of poetrys
intended appeal and that of a poets role is perhaps why Auden
addresses the poet (54) rather than Yeats even though his poem is

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meant as a form of homage to Yeats. Yeats, with his name concealed
yet metonymically contained in poet (54), is not erased but in fact
elevated into an exemplar of poets, all of whom Auden sees as
capable of fulfilling the social potential of poetry. As opposed to anticlosure that parallels the skeptical view advanced in Portrait of a
Lady, strong thematic and formal unity in In Memory of W. B. Yeats
bespeaks and befits Audens conviction that poetry is A way of
happening (41), that poetry can transcend solipsism and serve a
social function.
Audens assurance in the power of poetry to serve social ends,
especially in the midst of (political) crises, however, is not always as
firm as it appears to be in In Memory of W. B. Yeats and closure,
correspondingly, is relatively weaker. Written in the wake of World
War II, September 1, 1939, which marks the start of the war, closes
thematically strong but formally weak. Thematically, closure is
granted at the end of Audens progress from uncertainty and
insecurity to relative certainty and self-assurance, from (existential)
crisis to composure in the midst of crisis. At the start of the poem,
Auden sit[s] (1), sedentary and passive, Uncertain and afraid
(4), left with expire[d] hopes (5) and engulfed by overwhelming
waves of anger and fear (7) that have left him disillusioned,
dissatisfied and disturbed. Yet, by working through the poem as
evinced by the poems psychological meanderings, Auden appears
to eventually rediscover his raison d'tre, his purpose as a poet.

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In the antepenultimate stanza, Auden apparently reaches
towards an ephipany through the very act of poetry writing.
Anaphora (who can) (76, 77 & 78) and association (deaf brings
to mind dumb) (77 & 78) convey the impression of speech [as]
the mother, not the handmaid, of thought (Auden, Words and the
Word 106). Poetry, as a form of speech, is ostensibly not solely the
product of thought but also productive of thought, even thought that
vindicates the poems own producer. Metapoetically, the poem lauds
Audens valuable role as poet in the midst of societys desperate
need for a liberator to release them now (76), a writer (rather than
an orator who excludes the deaf) (77), and a spokesperson who
can speak for the dumb (78) unable to speak for themselves. Recognising and recognising his potential as a poet, Auden is left with
the choice of upholding the rights and hence responsibilities he
possesses. In the conclusion, a satisfying turn from his initial
passivity and pessimism, Auden chooses to Show an affirming
flame (100, emphasis own), to publically and emphatically offer
emotional support to the rest of humanity with whom he identitifes
with upon realising that he is composed like them/ Of Eros and of
dust (96-7) and shares the same negation and despair (99).
Arguably, Audens strong sense of duty towards his fellow men
propels the poem towards strong thematic closure that reaffirms his
resolution to Show an affirming flame (100).
Strong closure is arguably a means for Auden to serve his
reader because strong closure satisfies a readers desire for

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resolution

as

opposed

to

being

left

hanging,

uncomfortably

unfulfilled (Smith 37). While poems with weak closure tend to leave
the reader feeling excluded from the poem, as though it was not
meant for the reader and the reader had merely eavesdropped on
an odd fragment with little meaning and significance for him, poems
with strong thematic closure, by virtue of their coherence, tend to
connect more readily with the reader. Powerful thematic closure in
September 1, 1939 thus actualises Audens desire to display
empathy and offer encouragement, to Show an affirming flame
(100).
Yet, Audens desire, for all its earnestness, betrays a residue of
self-doubt. The modal verb, may that starts the final sentence:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleagured by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame. (96-100)
sets the statement up as a tentative, and perhaps even wishful
desire. [M]ay (96) expresses a wish whilst connoting doubt with
regards to fulfilling it. Perhaps, in the age of suspicion (Nathalie
Sarraute qtd. in Smith 274), Auden is, above all, suspicious of his
own idealism. The tension between his desires and the difficulty of
fulfilling them thus finds representation in closure that at once
affirms his hope and indicates his lingering reservationthematic

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closure that undercuts itself and furthermore, is undercut by weak
formal closure.
Formally, closure is modestly effected through rhymes in this
generally unrhymed free verse: Just (94) and messages (95) are
half-rhymed and same (98) and flame (100) are perfectly
rhymed. Interrupted by a line ending with despair (99), however,
the pair, same (98) and flame (100), is less tightly closed than it
would be had it been a couplet rhyme; it does not click like a box
(Smith 277). Besides, the multiple clauses between I (96) and the
action, Show an affirming flame (100), drag out the final line in a
laboured fashion la the long vowel in beleaguered (98) that
parallels the implied struggle, slowing the pace of the poem,
sapping energy and eroding Audens professed self-assurance.
Overall, the experience of poetic closure in September 1, 1939 is
significantly dampened by the lack of closural devices, such as
those

evident

epigrammatic

in

In

closure.

Memory
Perhaps,

of

W.
the

B.

Yeats,

suppressed

that

secure

closure

is

symptomatic of Audens insecurity arising from worries about

whether he can remain genuinely optimistic and compassionate
during this low dishonest decade (6) and if his affirming flame
(100) might not be any different from the lights [that] must never
go out (48) in order to preserve our self-preserving self-delusion
Lest we should see [that] we [really] are,/Lost in a haunted wood
(53-4). If so, the semblance of poetic closure in September 1, 1939
can be read as a parallel for the security and solidarity that Auden

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strives to convince his readers of, despite himself-not-being-fullyconvinced.
By the time Auden writes I Am Not A Camera (1969), Audens
idealism appears drastically eroded by the harsh realities (of war) he
has experienced because the poem is arguably so skeptical, even of
itself,

that

it

eludes

resolution

and

hinders

readers

from

experiencing a sense of appropriate cessation. Stripped of formal

closural devices, I Am Not A Camera bears no faade of finality.
Contrary to poems with a satisfying sense of thematic closure,
instead of advancing towards illumination, I Am Not A Camera
descends into deeper obscurity. From tangential comparison of
human sight (1) to camera Vision (1), what follows is not direct
comparison and elucidation on the abilities of the human perceiver
vis--vis the inabilities of the camera, but instead, an elision of the
human perceiver altogether. From the fourth last stanza onwards,
the camera supplants the I as the subject of the poem such that
the I is glaringly absent. Given the primary/subject position of I
in the title of the poem, the dominance of the camera at the
expense

of

the

in

the

poem

appears

unjustified

and

disappointing, engendering a disappointing/weak conclusion 1. The

poem arguably leaves the reader with residual expectations as the
I in the poem remains enigmatic in light of Audens evasive
argument via negativa. No doubt, unless we try to understand and
1

Given that the fine line between disappointment and surprise is highly
subjective, whereas one readers hypothesis [of a poems telos] may
accommodate the adjustment readily, another readers may resist it altogether
(Smith 241). To the extent that my expectations of the poems design/purpose
remain unfulfilled, I argue that its closure is thematically weak.

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relate to what we are not, we shall never understand what we are
(Auden qtd. in Dass). Nevertheless, mere criticism of the Other
without self-reflection does not grant self-knowledge, much less
avail knowledge for the reader to access. Thus, till the very end, the
reader remains in the dark as to exactly why the poetic I is not a
camera and who, in the first place, the I refers to.
The I may well refer to the reader who reads I, a persona
Auden invents, or Auden himself. Reading the I as Auden in the
role of a poet, the poets potential to represent reality better than a
camerametonymic of a photographeris suspect because Auden
fails to make any positive assertions about what the I can do.
Insofar that assertions are merely a way of putting it (Smith 275),
Audens reticence is representative of a radical suspicion of poetics
and language that echoes Prufrocks outcry, It is impossible to say
just what I mean! (Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock 104).
With language only capable of aggregating meaning, exceeeding or
falling short of actual meaning and therefore falsif[ing] (23) like
The camera (20), Audens claims to be distinct from a camera
may then be read as ironic. To the extent that poetry is an exercise
in metaphorically peer[ing] through lenses (16) that may not in
fact be more instructive (16), more usefully informative than a
camera; it may similarly intrud[e] upon [] quiddities (18-19) and
fiction[alise] (22) the idiosyncratic instead of representing them. If
so, skepticism towards poetics manifested as a poetics of skepticism

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in the open-ended closure of I Am Not A Camera becomes
retrospectively meaningful; weak closure is once again anti-closure.
While weak closure may be justified in I Am Not A Camera, it
remains viscerally destabilising. In addition to the disorientation
effected by thematic irresolution, destabilisation is subliminally
experienced as a result of the anti-closural features such as the
abruptness of the ending that is stylistically discordant with our
experience

of

typical

rhetoric.

To

end

with

an

example

is

uncharacteristic of rhetoric because an example generally gains

persuasive force with a link that elucidates its significance to the
argument. The lack of a closing rhetorical punch, however, may be
interpreted as Audens refusal to spell out a singular reading of the
poem, lest the poem becomes mistaken as a propagandistic poetic
manifesto that, in its didactic directness, reeks of a tyrants poetry
that is easy to understand (Auden Epitaph of A Tyrant 2).
Audens

opacity,

instead

of

intentionally

exclusive,

can

be

understood as egalitarian, pre-empting Hills defense of genuinely

difficult art being truly democratic unlike tyranny, which
requires simplification (Geoffrey Hill, The Art of Poetry). Indeed,
Audens avoidance of closing comments in I Am Not A Camera may
be his resistance against dictatorial poetry in preference of a more
democratic form of poetry that may be achieved in part through an
open-ended conclusion that encourages readers to fill in the
epistemic gaps and form their own conclusions.

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As Smith suggests, the open-ended conclusion will affirm [the
poems] irresolution and compel the reader to participate in it
(Smith

266).

Open-ended

closure

signals

to

meaning

being

provisional and telos being unfixed such that poetry reception is not
a passive act but a dialectic between poet (poem) and reader, who
together complete the hermeneutic circle. Insofar that meaning in
poetry is not determined by the poet but co-produced by the reader,
who is an active participant in the meaning-making process, all
poems, even those that assert their authority with decisive,
clinching finality are subject to a readers interpretation that is
never purely exegetical. This so-called exegesis is, perhaps,
inherently eisegetical given that interpretation is inescapably
influenced by personal experiences and personal biases. As such,
the open-ended closure in I Am Not A Camera, by foregrounding
poetrys dependence on readership, a view of poetics otherwise
often taken for granted, can be said to serve a counterweighting
function and do justice to the complexity of poetics. "Poetry, as
Heaney articulates and Audens poems arguably evince, has to be
a working model of inclusive consciousness. It should not simplify.
Its projections and inventions should be a match for the complex
reality which surrounds it and out of which it is generated (Heaney
The Redress of Poetry 8). The open-endedness of I Am Not A
Camera can thus be read as reflective of Auden embracing a
complex plurality of values, question[ing] the validity and even

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the possibility of unassailable verities, the moral or intellectual
legitimacy of final words (Smith 266 & 274).
Yet,

although

Smith,

amongst

others,

considers

these

concerns typical of modern poetry, these concerns cannot account

for all of modern poetry or even all of the poems by a single modern
poet. The above three metapoems by Auden, which arguably,
demonstrate
through

Audens

increasing

correspondingly

skepticism

decreasing

towards

degrees

of

poetics,
closure,

demonstrate that closure is heterogenous even within a single

poets oevre, not to mention across poets grouped together under
an arbitrary and ill-defined period, so-called the Modern period.
Indeed, minimal closure in I Am Not A Camera cannot be
considered representative of closure in all of Audens poems, not
least of all, all of modern poetry.
Notwithstanding, insofar as closure is minimal in modern
poetry, analysing closure is particularly subjective. As Smith
postulates, when the effects are weak, the readers interpretation
may become crucial in his experience of closure (Smith 241). As
mentioned in the footnote earlier, insofar that the disjunct between
how the poem ends and how the reader expected the poem to end
is unwelcomed, the poem leaves the reader with a sense of
disappointment. If, however, the twist is satisfying to the reader, it
becomes a surprising source of delight. Given that the subjectivity
of these feelings is further compounded by the subjectivity of a
readers provisional interpretation of the poems purpose as he

Wong 22
reads it, thematic closure may be more misleading than meaningful
when applied to poetry analysis, especially modern poetry with its
high proportion of weak formal closure. Ultimately, closure [] is
an effect, a quality of the readers experienceand one that is
particularly likely to vary among different readers (Smith 239) such
that we can only speak of poetic closure as we experience it
individually. Indeed, the entire enterprise of using closure as a
means of distinguishing one category of poetry from another is
inherently flawed. Using minimal closure as a working hypothesis to
view a modern poem is insidious; it may in fact distort a readers
reading of a poem.
As Auden suggests in I Am Not A Camera,
Instructive it may be to peer through lenses:
each time we do, though, we should apologise
to the remote or the small for intruding
upon their quiddities. (16-9)
The generalisation that modern poetry has minimal closure is a lens
that unfortunately places much of modern poetry in its blindspot. A
further study of modern poetry, with analysis of Heaneys and
Jennings poems, for instance, will expose the fallacy that strong
closure is remote (18) in modern poetry and can only be found in
small (18) quantities. Minimal closure as a typical characteristic of
modern poetry is only as instructive as generalisations are, which is
is not very instructive. Nevertheless, when closural analysis is

Wong 23
carefully applied for examination of individual poems, it may be an
instructive lens after all.

Word Count: 5000

Wong 24
Works Cited
Auden, W. H. Collected Poems. Ed. Edward Mendelson. New York:
Random House, 1976. Print
Auden, W. H. Secondary Worlds; Essays. New York: Random House,
1968. Print.
Auden, W. H. "Words and The Word." 103-27. Pdf.
Eliot, T. S., and Peter Washington. Eliot: Poems and Prose. New York:
A.A. Knopf,
1998. Print.
Dass, Nirmal. Rebuilding Babel: The Translations of W.H. Auden.
Amsterdam:
Rodopi, 1993. Print.
Heaney, Seamus. The Redress of Poetry. New York: Farrar, Straus
and Giroux,
1995. Print.
Hill, Geoffrey. Interviewed by Phillips, Carl. "Geoffrey Hill, The Art of
Poetry." The
Paris Review. The Paris Review, 1 Jan. 2000. Web. 10 Nov.
2014.
<http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/730/the-art-ofpoetry-no-80-geoffrey-hill>.
Keats, John, and Horace Elisha Scudder. The Complete Poetical
Works and Letters
of John Keats. Cambridge ed. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, 1899.
277. Print.

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Smith, Barbara Herrnstein. "A Study of Poetic Closure." Brandeis
University, Ph.D.
(1965). Print.