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As a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage
Man's mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells—
That bird beyond the remembering his free fells;
This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life's age.
Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage,
Both sing sometimes the sweetest, sweetest spells,
Yet both droop deadly sometimes in their cells
Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.
Not that the sweet-fowl, song-fowl, needs no rest—
Why, hear him, hear him babble and drop down to his nest,
But his own nest, wild nest, no prison.
Man's spirit will be flesh-bound when found at best,
But uncumbered: meadow-down is not distressed
For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bónes rísen.
Gerard Manley Hopkins’ Caged Skylark is a profound meditation on the human spirit’s struggle against physical and metaphysical confinement. Written in Hopkins’ signature sprung rhythm and dense with his characteristic linguistic inventiveness, the poem juxtaposes the trapped skylark with the imprisoned human soul, exploring themes of freedom, suffering, and transcendence. Through vivid imagery, paradox, and theological undertones, Hopkins crafts a work that resonates both as a personal lament and a universal statement on the human condition.
This essay will examine Caged Skylark through multiple lenses: its historical and cultural context, its intricate use of literary devices, its central themes, and its emotional impact. Additionally, we will consider how Hopkins’ Jesuit faith and his struggles with depression inform the poem, as well as how it compares to other works in his oeuvre and the broader Romantic and Victorian traditions.
Hopkins wrote Caged Skylark in 1877, a period marked by profound intellectual and spiritual upheaval. The Victorian era was characterized by a crisis of faith, with scientific advancements (Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, 1859) and industrialization challenging traditional religious beliefs. Hopkins, a Jesuit priest, was deeply immersed in this tension, his poetry often reflecting a struggle between earthly suffering and divine hope.
The image of the caged bird was not unique to Hopkins—it appears in the works of Romantic poets like John Keats (Ode to a Nightingale) and Percy Bysshe Shelley (To a Skylark), who used avian symbolism to explore creativity and the soul’s yearning for transcendence. However, Hopkins’ treatment is distinct in its theological weight. Unlike Shelley’s skylark, an emblem of untrammeled joy, Hopkins’ bird is "scanted in a dull cage"—a creature diminished by its confinement, much like the human spirit trapped in the "bone-house" of the body.
This metaphor reflects St. Paul’s epistolary cry: "We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies" (Romans 8:23). Hopkins, ever the theological poet, reworks this Biblical tension between flesh and spirit into a lyrical lament that is both personal and universal.
Hopkins’ poetry is renowned for its linguistic intensity, and Caged Skylark is no exception. The poem’s power derives from its compression—each line is densely packed with meaning, sound play, and syntactic innovation.
Hopkins frequently coins compound words to convey complex ideas succinctly. "Dare-gale skylark" suggests a bird bold enough to challenge the wind, now "scanted" (diminished) in captivity. Similarly, "bone-house" (a kenning for the body) evokes both the skeletal structure and the idea of the body as a temporary dwelling for the soul. These compounds create a sense of claustrophobia, mirroring the skylark’s imprisonment.
The poem thrives on paradoxes: the caged bird still sings "the sweetest, sweetest spells," just as the human spirit, though "flesh-bound," experiences moments of transcendence. The tension between confinement and fleeting freedom is central to Hopkins’ vision. Even in drudgery ("day-labouring-out life’s age"), there are bursts of beauty, though they are inevitably followed by despair ("droop deadly sometimes in their cells").
Though this analysis avoids discussing rhyme, Hopkins’ sprung rhythm—a meter based on stressed syllables rather than strict syllabic count—lends the poem a muscular, uneven cadence that mimics the skylark’s erratic movements. The abrupt shifts in rhythm ("But his own nest, wild nest, no prison") convey both agitation and yearning.
At its core, Caged Skylark is about the soul’s entrapment within the body and its longing for liberation. Hopkins, influenced by Ignatian spirituality, often grappled with the idea of the body as both a vessel and a prison.
The phrase "Man’s mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells" encapsulates the poem’s central conflict. The spirit is "mounting"—aspiring, ascending—yet it is trapped in a "mean" (humble, even degrading) physical form. This duality reflects Christian theology, where the body is both a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19) and a source of suffering (Romans 7:24).
Despite its confinement, the skylark (and by extension, the human spirit) still produces "the sweetest, sweetest spells." These moments of beauty are transient, however, inevitably giving way to despair ("droop deadly sometimes in their cells"). This oscillation between ecstasy and desolation is a hallmark of Hopkins’ work, seen also in The Windhover and Carrion Comfort.
The final lines offer a glimmer of hope:
"But uncumbered: meadow-down is not distressed
For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bónes rísen."
Here, Hopkins alludes to the resurrection of the body—a belief central to Christian eschatology. Just as a meadow is unharmed by a rainbow’s weight, so too will the glorified body be free from earthly constraints. The accent marks on "bónes rísen" emphasize this triumphant transformation, suggesting a future where the spirit is no longer shackled.
Hopkins’ poetry is deeply emotive, and Caged Skylark oscillates between anguish and fleeting epiphanies. The poem’s emotional power lies in its authenticity—Hopkins, who struggled with depression and religious doubt, does not offer easy consolation. Instead, he acknowledges the soul’s torment while holding out hope for ultimate liberation.
The image of the skylark "wring[ing] its barriers in bursts of fear or rage" is particularly visceral, evoking the claustrophobia of mental and spiritual suffering. Yet, the final lines provide a counterbalance, suggesting that earthly confinement is temporary. This duality makes the poem both harrowing and uplifting, a testament to Hopkins’ ability to capture the complexity of human experience.
While Hopkins is often associated with the Victorian era, his work shares affinities with the Romantics, particularly in his use of nature as a spiritual metaphor. However, his approach is more theologically rigorous.
Shelley’s To a Skylark celebrates the bird as an untouchable symbol of pure joy, while Hopkins’ skylark is grounded in suffering.
Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale explores the tension between mortal pain and artistic transcendence, much like Caged Skylark, but Keats’ resolution is more ambiguous, whereas Hopkins leans into Christian hope.
Hopkins’ fusion of Romantic sensibility with theological precision makes his work unique, bridging the emotional intensity of the Romantics with the intellectual depth of Victorian religious thought.
Hopkins’ own life sheds light on the poem’s themes. As a Jesuit, he embraced asceticism, often feeling torn between his poetic impulses and religious discipline. His "terrible sonnets" (written during a period of spiritual desolation) echo Caged Skylark’s anguish. The poem can thus be read as a personal allegory—Hopkins himself was the "dare-gale skylark," his creativity confined by religious duty, yet still capable of bursts of sublime expression.
Caged Skylark is a masterful exploration of confinement and the yearning for liberation. Through dense linguistic innovation, paradox, and profound theological reflection, Hopkins crafts a poem that is both a lament and a prayer. Its emotional resonance lies in its honesty—acknowledging the soul’s suffering while affirming the promise of resurrection.
In the end, the skylark’s song—like Hopkins’ poetry—transcends its cage, offering fleeting glimpses of the divine. The poem stands as a testament to the enduring human spirit, one that, though bound by flesh, still strains toward the infinite.
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