Nets to Catch the Wind

In Short

This collection of poetry captures a singular, crystalline voice navigating the friction between a fragile, shimmering aesthetic life and a relentless, icy reality. Through sharp, jeweler-like imagery and a tone that is both haughty and vulnerable, the poems explore themes of isolation, the endurance of the spirit, and the paradox of seeking warmth in a world that is fundamentally indifferent. It has lasted because of its technical precision and its unflinching commitment to the idea that, even in the face of inevitable decay, one must maintain a defiant, elegant inner life.

The Story

The collection functions as a spiritual journey toward a self-imposed, armored sanctuary. It opens with an acknowledgment of the untamable nature of beauty—a force that is neither moral nor safe, but "innocent and wild." The speaker rejects the common, "polluted" crowds, choosing instead the path of the eagle or the mole: either to ascend into a cold, solitary height or to burrow deep into the earth’s roots to hide from the noise of human hatred.

As the journey progresses, the landscape shifts from pastoral dreams of "wild peach trees" and easy abundance to a realization that such softness is an illusion. The speaker finds that even in nature, there is violence—the "treacherous" sea that kills a child for a joke, or the brutal blood-feud that turns a spring red. There is a recurring, desperate need to create a "marvelous wall" to protect one's internal world from the outside, yet the speaker knows this wall must remain permeable enough to breathe.

The middle section delves into the masks we wear. The speaker observes a world of crowded trolleys and "insensate brutes," contrasting these with figures of resilience, like the "proud lady" who uses the world’s arrows to fashion wings for her own shoes. There is a sense of impending winter, a "wicked and cross and old" world that necessitates a retreat into the "darksome nest" of one’s own mind, lined with the softest materials—thistledown and sea-gull feathers.

As the collection moves toward its close, the tone becomes increasingly urgent. The speaker contemplates the "fairy goldsmith," acknowledging that even the most beautiful artifacts of the imagination are fragile and doomed to crumble into "quicksilver dust." The final poems grapple with the finality of the end. There is a stark recognition that the race is run, the body is ragged, and nothing is mended under the sun. Yet, in the face of death, the speaker refuses to surrender. In a final act of autonomy, the speaker commits to eating their own heart—consuming the core of their experience—before it turns to dust, choosing to find a "cool and chaste" sweetness even in the shadow of the grave. It is a triumphant, if bitter, conclusion: the individual spirit, having weathered the storms and the "trysted swords," claims its own end as its final, private creation.

How It Unfolds

The mandate for solitude The speaker insists on shunning the "huddled warmth of crowds" to preserve the soul. Whether one chooses the eagle’s cliff or the mole’s tunnel, the goal is to remain inviolate against the polluting influence of the herd.

The lure of the impossible The speaker argues that following the "silver horn" of imagination is superior to a life of comfortable ignorance. Even if such a pursuit wears the cheek hollow and turns the hair gray, it is presented as the only authentic way to live.

The aesthetic defense The speaker turns to the creation of beautiful, intricate things—like a hummingbird’s wing in hammered gold—as a temporary shield. However, these objects are fragile and ultimately wither when brought into the "monstrous day" of the real world.

The confrontation with brutality The pastoral fantasies of a simple life are stripped away by the reality of nature’s indifference and human violence. The speaker acknowledges that the world is a place where children are murdered by the sea and where blood-feuds turn springs red.

The hardening of the spirit Having seen the cruelty of the world, the speaker learns to turn pain into grace. The "arrows and slings" of life are repurposed into tools for the self, creating a "proud face" that the world cannot mar.

The final interiority The collection ends with a retreat into a "deep vault" of the self. The speaker accepts the necessity of death but insists on tasting the "wild honey" of their own identity, maintaining a final, private sweetness that no outside force can touch.

The People

The speaker is a figure of profound ironical pride, a "true daughter" of those who endured ancient fears and now seeks to carve out a life of aesthetic and moral autonomy. They are intellectually restless, prone to both violent outbursts of honesty and quiet retreats into "velvet shoes" and silence.

The "Prinkin' Leddie" serves as a foil to the speaker's more somber reflections; she is a defiant, brightly colored creature who chooses "flounced an' flowered" silks over the drab, practical expectations of others. Her presence asserts the right to be decorative and joyful in a bleak, sodden landscape.

The "Proud Lady" represents the speaker's aspirational self. She has successfully processed the world’s malice, using the very things intended to break her to forge a stronger, more inscrutable identity. She is the embodiment of the successful defensive strategy.

Finally, the figures of the "Lion" and the "Lamb" appear in a moment of existential resolution. The Lamb identifies as Love, and the Lion, having moved past the "Tiger" of Hate, confirms the same identity. They represent the internal reconciliation the speaker seeks—a state where the predator and the victim within the soul cease their warring and finally rest together by the spring of the spirit.

In Its Own Voice

The speaker finds a cold comfort in the necessity of solitude, even when that isolation feels like a form of death.

If you would keep your soul From spotted sight or sound, Live like the velvet mole; Go burrow underground.

The speaker recognizes that their chosen path—the pursuit of the unattainable—is physically destructive but spiritually essential.

Better to see your cheek grown hollow, Better to see your temple worn, Than to forget to follow, follow, After the sound of a silver horn.

The speaker accepts that all beautiful things created by the mind are transient and will inevitably be reclaimed by time.

Touch them and take them, But do not break them! Beneath your hand They will wither like foam If you carry them home Out of fairy-land.

What It's Really About

The central question is how to remain "inviolate" in a world that is both physically cruel and spiritually draining. The book argues that safety is a myth; instead, one must develop a "stony-walled" interior. It explores the tension between the "Puritan marrow" that loves the austere, the cold, and the sparse, and the desire to fill that emptiness with "silver filigree" and dreams. The argument is not for happiness, but for a stoic, beautiful endurance. The book asks if it is better to be broken by the world or to withdraw into a private, self-constructed reality. It concludes that while the world will eventually destroy our structures, the act of creating them is the only way to retain one's soul.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate poetry that functions like a finely cut gemstone—hard, cold, and brilliant—will find this essential. The language is sharp and precise, eschewing sentimentality for a crystalline clarity that feels as fresh today as it did a century ago. It is a perfect companion for those who feel the weight of a "monstrous day" and seek a way to maintain their inner pride.

You must be prepared, however, for the book’s inherent chill. It is not a comforting read; it does not promise that things will get better or that the world will eventually be kind. The period attitudes and the occasional use of dialect—such as in the "Prinkin' Leddie"—may feel like artifacts of a different era, but they serve to highlight the speaker's alienation from the "huddled" masses. If you value a voice that is unapologetically individualistic, slightly haughty, and deeply committed to the idea that the life of the mind is the only true home we have, this book will linger with you. It is a manual for the solitary, a testament to the fact that even when the body is "ragged" and the race is run, the spirit can, and should, maintain its own unique, "inscrutable" shape.