Those Winter Sundays- Robert Hayden CM1120 #1

"Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold spintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?"


Through some reasearch I have learened a lot about both the poem and the author. I was very surprised to read that the author, Robert Hayden, was a foster child, who was never officially adopted, just handed off to his neibours at 18 months when his parents seperated. This could say a lot about the poet, in reference to "Those Winter Sundays", about how he now realized how he had taken for granted what his foster father had done for him. He had "adopted" him, so to say, and took care of him as if he were his own child, yet, "No one ever thanked him."

Reading this poem, I  found a great abundance of imagery towards the outstanding contrasts Hayden used between Cold and Warmth. Such words as: "blueblack cold", "cracked", "ached", "splintering", and "breaking". These words could describe both ice cracking, or fire wood burning and forcing away the cold. The contrasts Hayden used between cold and warmth in the imagery, could describe the atmosphere experienced throughout their home on winter Sundays. The father wakes early every Sunday, which in the time this poem was written was a day of rest, and worked hard to keep his family warm and healthy. After the rest of the family had been woken to prepare for church, the father continued to work hard, on his day of rest, to meet his family needs; ". . .and polished my good shoes as well." The father in this poem had nothing but the warmth of love for his family, and he showed it greatfully in his good deeds on those "winter Sundays", filled with a "blueblack cold". But on the other side of this story, we can see a cold anger from this man. "then with cracked hands that ached/from labor in the weekday weather made/banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him." As the poet shows how his father had worked hard all week, his hands were cracked and dry, and he still worked to keep his family happy; but yet "No one ever thanked him." This phrase shows a climax in this poem, it is filled with hatred, and ungratefulness towards the family, but yet a realization from the poet of how hard his father had worked for him in his childhood days. "fearing the chronic angers of that house,/Speaking indifferently to him" This family had a tension between them; no one had ever thanked the father for all he did for the family, and they spoke to him as if it were any other day, as if he hadn't been caring for them, and working hard to keep them safe; and this tension was felt by the poet, but never really achknowledged.

"What did I know, what did I know/of love's austere and lonely offices". The poet is expressing his thanks in this sentence, and also his apologies for his ungratefulness. He states how he was young, and had no knowledge of the stern duties which came with love, and now, with his age and wisdom, realizes his father did not do it for thanks, he did it because he had to, because he loved his family and only wanted love and happiness from them in return. At least, this is what I believe he is trying to say.

Below I have included a link to the webpage I gained most of my research on this poet from; if you'd like I suggest you read the article, I personally found it very interesting.

• http://www.helium.com/items/1145833-analysis-of-robert-haydens-those-winter-sundays

-Caitlyn