William Browne’s speaker begins by lining up images of quiet departure: a marigold closing at sunset, a bee leaving the honeysuckle, a solitary turtle dove. Each comparison deepens the ache of a woman’s absence — all woe, now that she is gone. The repeated ‘So’ creates a soft, incantatory rhythm, as if the speaker is trying to soothe himself. He envies certain birds that enjoy a single, endless summer and sleep through winter, never touched by loss or the need to forget. What he really wants is not memory — though some profess to teach that art — but the power to forget. He would learn it willingly, to keep loving her without the constant hurt. That paradox — to love and forget at once — captures the heart of his grief. The mood is one of longing stillness: tender, grieving, and faintly hopeful that letting go might one day be possible.
Memory — Summary
SO shuts the marigold her leaves At the departure of the sun; So from the honeysuckle sheaves The bee goes when the day is done; So sits the turtle when she is but one, And so all woe, as I since she is gone.
To some few birds kind Nature hath Made all the summer as one day: Which once enjoy'd, cold winter's wrath As night they sleeping pass away. Those happy creatures are, that know not yet The pain to be deprived or to forget.
I oft have heard men say there be Some that with confidence profess The helpful Art of Memory: But could they teach Forgetfulness, I'd learn; and try what further art could do To make me love her and forget her too.