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Quoting from a Poem
When you write about a poem or refer to a poem in a literary
response journal or an essay, you will frequently need to quote
from it. Below are some rules to follow when you quote the words
or title of a poem. Examples given in the rules are taken from
the poem by William Stafford below.
RULE 1: Whenever you mention the title of a poem, put
quotation marks around it.
- In "Fifteen," William Stafford
uses the accidental discovery of an abandoned motorcycle
to show the speaker caught between childhood and adulthood.
RULE 2: Whenever you quote a word or phrase that appears
in the poem, put quotation marks around it and INTEGRATE the
quoted material within your own sentence.
- The boy describes the motorcycle as
if it were alive, calling it his "companion,
ready and friendly" (l. 10).
RULE 3: Whenever you quote a phrase that begins on one
line but ends on the next, indicate where the first line stops
by using A SLASH MARK.
- The speaker "indulged/a forward
feeling, a tremble" as he is torn between mounting the
motorcycle and riding away, or dutifully looking for its owner
(l. 15-16).
RULE 4: Whenever you quote four or more lines, indent
the passage from both margins, but do not use quotation
marks. Cite such a long passage only if it is especially significant.
Introduce the quotation, copy the lines EXACTLY as they are in
the poem, and then explain the relevance of the citation afterwards.
- The speaker briefly indulges the childish
fantasy of stealing the motorcycle and riding away.
This moment, however, is truly a "bridge" between childhood
and adulthood. Rather than
daydream of freedom, he thinks about the situation and crosses
over to responsibility.
The speaker chooses to look for
- the owner, just coming to, where he
had flipped
over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale --
I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand
over it, called me good man, roared away (l. 16-20).
- This experience implies that being
a grownup is dangerous, and perhaps even joyless. An
adult, free to fulfill the speaker's fantasy, risks real dangers.
Stunned and wounded, the owner
acknowledges the speaker's maturity by calling him "good
man." Something magical has been
ost, however, in the transformation. The motorcycle itself has
changed from a "companion"
to a lifeless "machine."
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Fifteen by William
Stafford
South of the bridge on Seventeenth
I found back of the willows one summer
day a motorcycle with engine running
as it lay on its side, ticking over
slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen.
I admired all that pulsing gleam, the
shiny flanks, the demure headlights
fringed where it lay; I led it gently
to the road, and stood with that
companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen.
We could find the end of a road, meet
the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about
hills, and patting the handle got back a
confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged
a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen.
Thinking, back further in the grass I found
the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped
over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale --
I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand
over it, called me good man, roared away.
I stood there, fifteen
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ACTIVITIES: Use the poem by Sylvia
Plath below. Answer on a separate page.
- Write a sentence that explains what this poem is about. Use
the title of the poem and the writer's name in your sentence.
- In another sentence, point out a striking image or comparison
in the poem. Quote a phrase, not a complete sentence. Integrate
with your own words. NO QUOTE LUMPS!
- In another sentence, cite an example of personification and
explain what it reveals about the speaker. Quote a phrase that
begins on one line and continues on the next.
- In a sentence that contains at least three lines of the poem,
comment on how those lines help reveal the poem's meaning. Introduce
the lines, quote exactly, and explain them afterwards.
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Mirror by
Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful --
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
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