Sunday Morning: The Beauty of Death

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The title of Wallace Stevens' poem "Sunday Morning" could not be a better title. Sundays to Christian religions are considered holy days, days to go to church and worship God. To write about a woman rebelling against the ritual of going to church and describing the sensualities of the natural world, and posing the question why is heaven better than what we have on Earth, is brilliant. In the poem, the woman compares and explores two ideas on life: one that is eternal, and one that is not. The poem witnesses the woman's search for spiritual fulfillment. After assessing her beliefs, she later realizes that preparing her life for a heaven that promises eternal life is pointless. Death is what makes life so beautiful, and Earth is where real paradise is and always will be. Throughout the poem Stevens uses eloquent imagery to describe the paradise always present in the natural world. The "late coffee and oranges in a sunny chair", "the pungent oranges and bright, green wings" both show the paradise that we can posses everyday on Earth. For the woman, these images also "dissipate the holy hush of ancient sacrifice." "She dreams a little, and she feels the dark encroachment of that old catastrophe." His imagery is used to show that although she is genuinely enjoying these beautiful things, there is still underlying spiritual anxiety. The statements the woman makes about the death of Jesus are negative, yet they are still in her mind and are interrupting her dreams. The poem in the beginning seems to have a tone of the woman being content with her decision of her heaven being on Earth. She does refer to the crucifixion of Christ as "that old catastrophe" and that the tomb of Jesus is not anything spiritual, or special, "It is h... ... middle of paper ... ... soul then replies that there is no "golden underground" or any heavenly things to dream of that are not right here on Earth. And just as "April's green endures" so will everything else in nature. The woman in the poem is no different than so many people. The fear that we will not always have the comforts from our Earthly pleasures is common. However, the woman's doubts seem to diminish when she says "But in contentment I still feel the need of some imperishable bliss" and her soul replies "Death is the mother of beauty." In most every religion, the promise of some sort of afterlife is why most people believe. That is what causes so many things in life to go unrecognized. We do not live in a world were everyone stays forever young, there is always a beautiful sunset, and "ripe fruit never falls." Every living thing dies. That is what makes it all so special.

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