LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,
Up to its very summit near the stars,
A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound
No other tree could live. But gallantly
The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung
In crimson clusters all the boughs among,
Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;
And oft at nights the garden overflows
With one sweet song that seems to have no close,
Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.
When first my casement is wide open thrown
At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;
Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest
A gray baboon sits statue-like alone
Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs
His puny offspring leap about and play;
And far and near kokilas hail the day;
And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows;
And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast
By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast,
The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.
But not because of its magnificence
Dear is the Casuarina to my soul:
Beneath it we have played; though years may roll,
O sweet companions, loved with love intense,
For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear.
Blent with your images, it shall arise
In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes!
What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear
Like the sea breaking on a shingle-beach?
It is the tree’s lament, an eerie speech,
That haply to the unknown land may reach.
Unknown, yet well-known to the eye of faith!
Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away
In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay,
When slumbered in his cave the water-wraith
And the waves gently kissed the classic shore
Of France or Italy, beneath the moon,
When earth lay trancèd in a dreamless swoon:
And every time the music rose,—before
Mine inner vision rose a form sublime,
Thy form, O Tree, as in my happy prime
I saw thee, in my own loved native clime.
Therefore I fain would consecrate a lay
Unto thy honor, Tree, beloved of those
Who now in blessed sleep for aye repose,—
Dearer than life to me, alas, were they!
Mayst thou be numbered when my days are done
With deathless trees—like those in Borrowdale,
Under whose awful branches lingered pale
“Fear, trembling Hope, and Death, the skeleton,
And Time the shadow;” and though weak the verse
That would thy beauty fain, oh, fain rehearse,
May Love defend thee from Oblivion’s curse.
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From guest Rama (contact)
“Fear, trembling Hope, and Death, the skeleton, And Time the shadow” Fear, Death and Time are personified as trembling hope, the skeleton and the shadow respectively. Here the poetess is seeking answers at a metaphysical level. The basis of human life is hope and death is but inevitable. Death however need not be the end for while the skeleton is merely a physical embodiement of death, it is the soul that is immortal. Time is the thread that holds life and death together - it is a mere shadow of no substance, one moment creeping slowly, the next speeding by in the blink of an eye. We can infer that perhaps the poetess is living in time's shadow. Perhaps she is speaking of her fragile hopes that the tree remains free of 'oblivion's curse', Or then again she is giving voice to her fearsthat when she dies, her precious memories will be lost to the world. Will the tree continue to be a symbol of her cherished childhood? -
Our Casuarina Tree by Toru Dutt
From guest Debabrata Ghosh (contact)
Please help me with a critical appreciation of the poem"Our Casuarina Tree" by Toru Dutt. -
From guest Muhammad Shanazar (contact)
In “Our Casuarina Tree” Toru Dutt: the poetess, while living abroad, like some of us, is pining for the scenes of her native land and reliving the memories of her childhood. In the first part of the poem the poetess depicts the casuarina tree trailed by a creeper vine like a huge python, winding round and round with the rough trunk, sunken deep with scars. It reached to the height touching very summit near the stars. The casuarina tree stood alone unaccompanied in the compound wearing the scarf of the creeper hung with crimson cluster of flowers among the boughs occupied by the bird and hives of bees humming around. At nights the poetess garden overflowed with the sweet songs of the nestled birds while tired men take rest in its shade. The poetess recalls when the poetess at the dawn used to open the window of her room, her eyes rested upon the casuarina tree and derived a strange kind of delight. And often in the day of winter she happened to see on its crest a gray baboon sitting stunned alone like a statue. It used to wait for the sunrise and its puny kids leapt about and played on lower boughs. Early in the morning the sleepy cows were led to the pastures, and on the way they passed by a broad pond under shadowed by hoar tree, the pond was cover by overlapping and overspreading water lilies flowered like the sheet of snow. The poetess reveals why the casuarina tree was dear to her soul, it was because it she played with her sweet companion and friends whom then the cruel waves of time had scattered like the loosened leaves and she could not see them again; only the sweet memories are left behind; though they are sweet yet painful for those visionary hours can not be fetched back. The poetess grew old but the memories of the sweet moments saved in her mind are still young. The tree is dear to the poetess because it is the sole bond between her past and present, when she recalls the it a chain of pleasant and poignant memories trains to her mind and again she tastes the flavour of her childhood, in her imagination she again transported to the golden age and hears the same cries, laughter and noise of her sweet departed playmates. And when the revived images engross the poetess, the waves of pain begin to surge and the blurring tears blind eyes of the poetess, they begin to fall in the form of molten drop of pangs. At the same time she hears the dirge-like murmur resembling the sound of the sea breaking on a shingle-beach. At that moment the poetess realizes that it is not the murmur springing up from her inner world but it is the mummer of the tree who had been left behind alone and now long for their company too. The casuarina tree is not a being devoid of emotion but it also responds love in response of love. Reality is that that poetess here becomes too engrossed and visions the tree with the pathetic fallacy. It is the point when her inner world corresponds the outer one. The casuarina tree is the symbol of her happy prime: vivacious childhood, love for the native land and permanence, it perpetuates the memories the real assets of the poetess. At the end of the poem the poetess in imagination visualizes in its shade Fear in the form of trembling Hope, Death in the from of Skeleton and Time in the form of Shadow, and they all portend something evil, perhaps the poetess with the eyes of imagination sees some impeding plights over her beloved land that may erase the bonds of her childhood or bring enormous changes in the environment devastating the cultural ties; that is why the poetess prays, “May Love defend thee from Oblivion's curse.” Language of the poem is embellished, there is dynamic flow in the cadence, the tone of the poem melancholic, but the theme is universal that is the intense attachment to the native environment of the childhood. The poem replete with the imagery, in the last lines fear, hope, death and time have been personified all roaming under the shadow of the Casuarina Tree which refer that Casuarina is the bigger reality the fear, hope, death and time. Though the poem was written in the perspective of Indian environment, yet it has all ingredients that might make one a great work. Muhammad Shanazar shanazar@hotmai.com -
Glad I suggested spotlight: cos one of my favs.
Ninth grade indeed. We had it in our syllabus. I love this poem soo soo much. Poignant. SO vivid and involving. I'll write on it too. Maybe an essay in making soon for Oldpoetry. Love. Sam -
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oh wow! this is one of my fav poems!
read it for the first time in 9th grade but at that time found it painfully boring cuz i wasnt interested in poetry at all! 
but now,i LOOOOOOOVE this poem....the best part is the way the poet cherishes her childhood memories and wrote such perfect descriptions of the lands she has traveled to. 
this poem is one the MOST WONDERFUL poems i've ever read n my eternal fav
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