Ariel

Ariel is the namesake of this collection, and a very personal work dealing with Plath’s own life. It consists of ten stanzas and, something that only happens in a couple of other poems, a final standalone line at the end. Each stanza consists of three lines (tercets). One of the ways to think about this poem, is to picture Plath riding her childhood horse, Ariel, to a state of realisation in her life.

The first stanza begins with the idea “stasis in darkness,” immediately end stopped. In this way, this “stasis” is already reflected in the grammar from the very first line! Realise the noteworthy sibilance in this line with the word “stasis” and “darkness,” giving a bit of a sinister feel to the poem right from the outset, also portrayed through the imperfect rhyme of these two words. There’s already a bleak image being portrayed, as something still in darkness; the sibilance giving a sense of impending action. We see this happen in the second line as Plath begins “then the substanceless blue” – the beginning of movement. However, with this movement comes a “substanceless” feeling (again reflected through the sibilance in this word), suggesting something hollow. Looking at how Plath goes from “darkness” to “blue,” it’s likely she is talking about the dawn of a new day. The word “substanceless” can therefore be a bit deeper than just a sense of something hollow, as perhaps because the day has not yet begun its course, there’s not yet anything to give it ‘substance.’ An internal perfect rhyme begins the third line with the words “pour of tor and distances,” with the word “pour” commonly used to refer to something falling heavily (like when someone says it’s “pouring rain”) and, in this case, it is “tor,” which is just another word for hills or rocky peaks. It’s not just tor, but a “pour of tor and distances” – we can therefore see a picture of a landscape being painted here by the author; one that is unclear and not yet fleshed out (notice how vague the word “distances” is).

“God’s lioness” is a bit of a play on words as the literal meaning behind the word ‘Ariel’ is actually ‘lion of God’. In this way, Plath is giving Ariel a female identity through the word “lioness” with the end stop of this line giving the speaker definitive power. “How one we grow” is a very beautiful line when you relate it to the imagery being presented thus far. We can sort of see now that the speaker is riding her horse across “tor and distances,” but in this line, she is expressing how close she and the animal are becoming through their journey over the, so far, “substanceless” day. Personally, i picture the speaker on her horse moving so fast across the landscape that they kind of just blur into one moving shape. She continues “pivot of heels and knees!” which can really just be an expression of amazement at the speed of the animal. The rhyme of “heels and knees” gives this sense of continuity when it comes to the animal’s movements, the exclamation mark at the end emphasising this sense of amazement. There is some solecism here, as the stanza ends with just the words “the furrow.” This likely refers to the imprints in the ground that the horse is making as it moves along. To understand why this is enjambed, you need to read the next line to understand the likely reasoning behind such an abrupt ending to an otherwise complete stanza.
 
The third stanza expresses how the furrow “splits and passes” indicative of how the horse “splits” the ground open with the force of the hooves. For is to “pass” is likely emphasising this idea of the speed with which the horse is moving across the landscape, emphasised in the rest of the stanza. Now that we’ve established the way in which Plath sees the horse to be moving with such speed, it’s almost as if the imprints – the furrows – in the ground, can’t actually be seen by the speaker as she “passes” them so abruptly, similar to the abrupt way in which the stanza stops. Such speed is emphasised in the rest of the stanza. So, “the furrow / Splits and passes,” which Plath goes on to liken to the horse’s neck: “sister to / The brown arc / Of the neck I cannot catch.”The horse and nature are like “sisters,” furthering the notion of unity introduced by “how one we grow.” Hence, Plath sees herself as one with nature in a very real way through flora and fauna. Continuing, this picture is being painted further here, as we now know the horse is brown, and the speed at which it moves is so great, that even the speaker can’t keep up with it. “The brown arc” refers to the shape of the horse’s neck as it moves along, but it cannot be caught, as the speaker is losing control of the horse. Literally, we can kind of guess that it’s just galloping so fast – there’s no holding onto the reins or even enough stability to hold onto the neck so as not to fall. Figuratively though, it’s as if it almost takes over in power over the speaker. Notice too the consonance of the ‘ck’ sound, a harsh one, in the words “arc,” “neck,” “cannot,” and “catch,” expressing through the sound the beginning of some negative feel. Indeed, it is from this point on, we see a drastic shift in the sense of the poem; from a positive rise from “darkness” to being one with all nature, to losing all control in a matter of seconds. This is possibly even a link to the deterioration of the state of Plath and how quickly it can happen.
The shift in this poem is so sudden as the fourth stanza begins with the harsh “nigger-eye” as the first line. The use of this term, normally a racial slur, emphasises the darkness being expressed in the poem thus far. The speaker sees these dark “berries” that “cast dark / Hooks” because she rides by so quickly, and then interrupt or ‘hook’ her out of her serenity. The hyphen at the end of this is an instance where Plath forces the reader to stop and contemplate on the harsh tone with which she writes this stanza and, indeed, this poem as a whole.

The fifth stanza completes the idea of the “berries” in the previous stanza, as the hyphen continues on to the idea that they are “black sweet blood mouthfuls.” Aside from the literal fruit, we see that the berries also become likened to blood as well; Plath gives something sweet quite a dark meaning. “Shadows” with an end stop forces a pause mid stanza and almost mid poem too. At this point, we see another shift in the direction of the poem as something unseen – a “shadow” – seems to hold the speaker and, indeed, the poem back from continuation. A feeling of suspense is put forward as the speaker simply ends the poem with the enjambed “something else,” setting the poem off on a different course.

This “something else” in the previous stanza “hauls [the speaker] through air.” On a more literal level, and following on from the imagery being put forward again, we can kind of tell that the speed with which the horse was moving has projected the speaker off its back “through air.” However, this would be going against the idea being put forward here that “something else” is doing this.

In this way, we can sort of assume that it’s the “shadows” in the previous stanza that are the “something else” the speaker can’t quite place her finger on as to what they are; translating them to be “shadows” here. Personally, I kind of see these shadows as being memories of the speaker and Plath. It’s almost as if she’s saying that these memories in a time of darkness (hence the “shadows”) are literally “haul[ing]” her through air and out of the unity she had with her horse and nature, an idea established earlier. Notice too how it’s not ‘through the air’ but just “through air”? One way to look at this is to see how there’s a sense of inferiority; that it’s this small person being projected through a vast, unidentifiable air. “Thighs, hair” is a very simple line and we can look at it in terms of herself – being “haul[ed]” through the air, but also features that she shares with the animal she was riding (“how one we grow”). Similarly, we have a complete rhyme in “air” and “hair,” so too is her thought complete about her being fully consumed by these “shadows.” The final line “flakes from my heels” combines with the second line to be an asyndetic list (notice the semi-colon at the end of “hair”). In this way, there’s a separation from conventional grammar and, in turn, a stand from the speaker for her own views. If we look at the meaning behind the third line, it’s almost as if these “flakes” are the speaker’s past. It’s a bit of a play on words; that “flakes” is both the noun and adjective (another separation from convention) which the reader is having leave her being right from the lowest point on her person. It’s cathartic, as will be expanded upon in the next stanza.

“White” is the standalone word at the beginning of the seventh stanza, the total opposite of “nigger-eye.” We can see another shift in this way to something a bit more positive through this colour often associated with purity. There’s enjambment, so we can see that “white” is referring to “Godiva” on the next line. This is where the imagery becomes a little explicit (prepare for a brief history lesson!). Lady Godiva was an 11th century English noblewoman who supposedly rode naked through the streets of her town to protest the high taxes imposed by her husband upon the people. This reference actually makes a lot of sense when considering Plath’s own married life and its turmoil. It’s a very subtle hint to her husband who once held her back in a dark life, and she is now pure (“white”) for having left him. She continues, “I unpeel.” Notice the rhyme with “my heels” in the previous stanza? There’s a link here to what is being left at her “heel” and what she is “unpeel[ing].” I mentioned before that they are the “flakes” she mentions, or her memories, that is being referred to, which works here too. She continues to describe what is being unpeeled – the hyphen at the end of this line indicating she speaks of “dead hands, dead stringencies.” This is pretty straightforward in its meaning; the “dead hands” are those of Ted and the “dead stringencies” are the expectations she faced as his wife. The repetition of the word “dead” just cements this for the speaker; she’s left it all behind.
 
The eight stanza begins, “and now I / Foam to wheat.” The story continues with that first line, but the second has had some controversy to its meaning simply due to its ambiguity. One of the suggestions is that it’s the foam from the horse’s mouth as he runs onto the wheat they may pass as they ride along. However, and this is an interpretation I really like, there’s a suggestion that this relates to the goddess Venus, who was born of seafoam. She was a goddess of many things, including love, beauty, fertility and even victory. It’s likely that “wheat” relates to that note on fertility, so she’s sort of saying that she’s rising like a goddess and now taking on a maternal role. She continues, “a glitter of seas.” I always picture Botticelli’s painting ‘The Birth of Venus’ when reading this line, where he has Venus standing on the half shell with the sea behind her. Relating this to the poem, there’s a new beginning here for the speaker; the choice of the word “glitter” expressing joy and light-heartedness at her newfound freedom. That note on the reflection on Venus and focusing on her as the goddess of fertility continues on to the final line of this stanza as the speaker simply states “the child’s cry.” We stop here to something that’s actually a little negative, but also very real. We’re taken out of this state of the “White Godiva” and the imagery of Venus with the “glitter of seas” to a very real “cry” that almost snaps the speaker out of her trance to the situation she is in. I picture Plath writing this poem and sort of picturing herself riding her childhood horse, Ariel, out of the restriction of Hughes, to suddenly realising there’s a child’s cry that she must attend to. Suddenly, as in the poem, there’s the realisation of the reality of motherhood.
The “cry” that ends the eight stanza is enjambed, and the speaker continues to express that it “melts in the wall.” For it to “melt in the wall” means it doesn’t reach her the way a cry normally would, as though Plath is so used to it that it is now a part of her home’s structure. This idea of strength is supported through the following, “and I / Am the arrow.” There’s a lot to these five simple words than might meet the eye. Firstly, notice how she ends that second line on the word “I.” This is actually pretty powerful in itself. Who really knows who they are – especially this speaker who was having a bit of an existential crisis at the beginning of this poem (and then identifying with her horse (“how one we grow”).

Now, she knows who she is; “the arrow.” Breaking this down; an arrow once shot does go very fast. Moreover, traditionally and in history, they were commonly used in wars as weaponry, supporting great victories (remember too that Venus was the goddess of victory). Another idea that this arrow is also a phallic symbol, which confers power to Plath here. This is a very common conceit: she is taking on the role of the more powerful sex at her time to have this dominion over even men, particularly Hughes (seen in poems like Lady Lazarus and Daddy ).
The final stanza here continues from the ninth one: “and I / Am the arrow, / The dew that flies / Suicidal.” Simply because of the layout, these are a very loaded few lines (and also one of the only times we don’t assume that there are suicidal thoughts present; it never comes up this clearly with Plath!).
 

I should probably mention that, depending on the way you read it, from here on out you decide whether there’s a positive or negative ending to the poem. Firstly, the “dew that flies” on a basic level can refer to tears. The comma at the end of the previous stanza suggests that “I” is also “the dew that flies.” If we examine the syntax, it seems as though the “dew” is what is being described as “suicidal” here. There are two meanings that can therefore be taken here. The positive one is that she’s sort of saying that her tears – a sign of sadness – are “suicidal” and trying to figuratively die, removing any memories of upset from her life. However, it can also be taken to mean that she is the “arrow” and also the “dew” that is “suicidal,” therefore referring to herself as both crying and wanting to die. This idea is elaborated in the final lines of the poem as she continues, “suicidal, at one with the drive / Into the red / Eye, cauldron of the morning.” So, she is “at one with the drive” – a phrase which has echoes to “how one we grow” from earlier, except here she has become one with her “drive” for death, and it is happening so quickly; supported by having this stanza fully enjambed, quickening the pace. The “red / Eye” can sort of refer to the sun when we look at this together, so it’s sort of like she’s saying she’s close to leaving this world. She also calls it “the cauldron of morning” which kind of makes sense in this context; sun comes up in the morning and is blazing, similar to a cauldron over fire. However, this is just the meaning; we also need to look at the syntax. I mentioned right at the beginning of this analysis that this poem is one of those ones of Plath’s where she ends with a single line instead of a complete stanza. If we look at it in this way, so just “eye, cauldron of the morning,” the sound “I” is being made, so it’s almost as if she is calling herself “the cauldron of the morning” – the sun, or even a new beginning (“morning”) – which is a more positive take to end the poem. So, depending on the way you read it, her going towards the sun and the “dew that flies / Suicidal” is either a beautiful act of strength and light, or it is a cry for help.