Katherine Hale’s speaker looks back at earlier women poets who wrote with delicate, “feminine” beauty—their words like jewels, perfumed stones, and tender songs even about war. Now a different kind of woman poet has arrived: one who is herself at war, whose poems are keen and glittering like swords meant to cut tradition. The speaker does not simply reject the older style, though. In the closing lines, she admits that the ancient magic still works in those “jewelled lines”; the same creative fire burns inside them, and their lovely, scented paths have become a highway for the new poets who now wield swords. There is admiration for the new boldness, but also tenderness toward the older artistry, and a clear awareness that both generations draw from the same flame. The poem’s mood is both fierce and reflective, holding together rebellion and gratitude.
Poetesses — Summary
You who loved all lovely things And wrought in jewelled lines; You have gone your gracious ways That are patterned in dim stones Of perfumed, faint-hued words; You were a thing so feminine That even of war you sang in tender notes, But now another one has come, Who is herself at war. Her songs are keen and glittering, For she has felt the magic fire That you did long ago; But now the fire has burned clean through And forged a sword of steel. Swinging swords are women's songs That gleam as hard as diamonds do, And mean to cut tradition.
And yet those jewelled lines! Strangely the ancient magic works, Strangely the same fire lurks And burns imprisoned there In your dim, opaled words, That run like paths in heaven Paved in mosaic of sweet stones, And make a scented highway for our feet, Who wield these swinging swords.