AN: So, the other day I was doing a perilous timed write on this poem, and in the moments where I wasn't flexing my hand or frantically trying to find the "meaning of the work," I let my mind wander to Narnia. This is implied Lucy/Caspian, though it's not explicit. This is utterly for fun and really has no point other than that I love The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and I love "Bright Star." I would recommend reading the "Bright Star! Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art" first. This will make a lot more sense.
Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, nor do I own John Keats' "Bright Star! Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art."
"'Bright Star! Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art' not only reflects John Keats' ever-present desire to extend his time in the world, but it alludes to the frailty of a mortal's love."
Lucy Pevensie heaved a shaky breath as she stared determinedly at her classmates, essay clasped in a quivering hand. Her eyes surveyed the room, noting the bored and distracted expressions of the twenty-five girls she stood before. Her teacher, Mrs. Danford, gave her an encouraging nod, and Lucy's eyes returned to her essay, seeking the next sentence.
"Through his use of vivid, natural imagery, Keats demonstrates a Star's role as one of an eternal observer, watching the world pass beneath, never changing and never growing old." The words swam before Lucy's eyes, and she heaved another breath, mentally willing herself on. "The imagery creates a pure world sprinkled with new-fallen snow and abounding with sparkling oceans that know not of man's sinful nature." The clock ticked loudly. A girl yawned. "The world a Star sees is our world, yet it is our world without the fluctuating filth that clutters it."
The statement quavered in the English schoolroom, but the two dozen desks and crumpled papers briefly faded from Lucy's sight. Instead, the waves of the Eastern Sea kissed her toes as she walked the shores of Ramandu's Island. A snicker aroused her from her daydream, and Lucy's eyes flew to Mrs. Danford who was quirking her head curiously. Noting her pupil's gaze, a rather endearing smile flitted across the teacher's face. Rather than console the girl, Lucy felt rage flare in her chest at that condescending expression. Glancing at her essay once more, she put it on the desk beside her and clasped her hands confidently behind her back.
"Ms. Pevensie?"
Lucy smiled, flashing a cheery grin at her classmates and teacher. "I rather think I'd like to proceed without the essay, if you don't mind." Without waiting for consent, she barreled on. "I must admit, I think Keats' poem to be truly lovely."
Mrs. Danford quirked an eyebrow, amused at Lucy's sudden change from shy student to confident girl. "Oh?"
Lucy nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. I think the reason so many don't like poetry is that they look at is as something untouchable—something someone wrote over a century ago." A nostalgic look drifted across the girl's face as she continued. "I know from experience that poetry and histories are often distorted over centuries—" she grinned cheekily, ignoring the confused expressions of her classmates, "but I do believe they contain some truth."
Squaring her shoulders, Lucy turned to the other girls. "You may not have a lost love, but everyone has experienced the awful sensation of a clock that is ticking much too fast. We all lose things when time is out."
Her cheeks rosy, Lucy stared out the window, as if searching for her own lost love. Mrs. Danford was surprised to see the other girls listening attentively. "Imagine the world Keats speaks of here. Imagine these snow-capped peaks and glistening seas. These are the views of the Stars."
Lucy's eyes closed for a moment, and Mrs. Danford had no doubt that behind those golden lashes floated images of spectacular vistas. Eyes still shut to dreariness surrounding her, Lucy continued in a wistful voice. "Now, imagine the sun rising in the far East, the ocean seeming as if it was spun of gold. The most lovely song fills the air, and the night's balm has cleansed the world. In these precious moments where the Stars mingle with the sun, you cannot help but realize your own mortality, your passing nature." Lucy's voice quieted, and her eyes opened. Though she had not moved from her spot before the other girls, Mrs. Danford had the strangest impression that Lucy was surprised to be standing in the school—like she had truly believed that she would open her eyes to the place she spoke so longingly of. "You cannot stay in such a beautiful world, for you do not possess the brilliance of a Star."
She tugged a curl, still gazing out that window, and Mrs. Danford couldn't help wondering what this girl was remembering. "A friend once told me that the Stars were his to watch, and yet those same Stars watched our predecessors and will watch those who come after we have left this world for another. They sang in the Beginning and saw the coming of Evil. Those Stars see Golden Ages and the fall of great Kings." Strangely, Lucy giggled here. "Luckily, they also see those Kings get back up after being knocked down."
Her attention returned to the present, and the twinkling eyes that Mrs. Danford had become accustomed to seeing regained their sparkle. "My brother read me this poem years and years ago because it reminded him of a place we had… visited. I used to think it so strange that Keats would wish immortality for love and not for the glorious domain of the Stars." She grinned again. "My cousin is rather interested in astronomy, and this summer when staying at his house I had the opportunity to gain some new insight about Stars. It's all quite simple really."
Mrs. Danford couldn't help but quirk another eyebrow. Lucy was speaking with an eloquence and confidence that she certainly hadn't learned in school. As Lucy paused, Mrs. Danford tried to remember other students who had possessed such poise. Ironically (or perhaps it wasn't all too ironic), the first girl that came to mind was Susan Pevensie.
"You see," Lucy began again. "If I—I mean Keats was a Star, then he would never need leave his love's side. Time would abound, and there would be no fears of leaving his love in a world that is no longer his own. The first three quatrains establish how necessary and unchanging a Star is," Lucy gulped, smiling weakly. "A romance with a Star would be endless. Can't you see how this makes mortal love seem so temporary? How can a mortal possibly compare to the vivacity of a Star--?"
A shrill ring cut Lucy off, and she jumped as her classmates rifled through their notebooks and quickly shoved them into book bags. She remained standing at the front of the classroom, besieged by memories and could-have-beens. As Mrs. Danford made her way toward Lucy, the younger girl retrieved her essay, mentally berating herself for veering from words she had so carefully written last night, for circumventing phrases that had been constructed for their lack of emotion.
"Ms. Pevensie? Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Danford looked at her student inquiringly, taking in her stricken face and glistening eyes.
Lucy nodded slowly, offering Mrs. Danford her paper. "Here's my essay, Ma'am. I'm sorry I didn't read it like I was supposed to."
Accepting the essay, she briefly glanced down at Lucy's sloppy scrawl before peering at the girl through her glasses. "Well, I say. That was a rather impassioned presentation, though you know I cannot give you full points no matter how spot on you were. We do like to emphasize following directions here."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Mrs. Danford smiled kindly. "I hardly doubt it will hurt your grade significantly, Lucy. You certainly understood Keats' attitude."
The docile girl gone, Lucy flashed her teacher an ironic grin. "Well, Mrs. Danford, I had several experiences this summer that broadened my perspective on the world."
"Like your cousin's astronomy?"
Lucy smiled. "Something like that."
"Well, I must say, Ms. Pevensie, it is a rare treat to find a student who so thoroughly understands the Romantics."
Glancing at her hands, Lucy chuckled. "Life experiences help quite a bit. My brothers and sister and I have had some rather unusual… adventures."
The way in which she said 'adventures' was strange, but Mrs. Danford thought nothing of it, for Lucy's mention of Susan sparked a memory. "You know, your sister gave a rather inspired presentation of Hamlet several years ago."
A light dawned in Lucy's eyes, and she cast a brazen grin toward Mrs. Danford. "I can certainly imagine that." She winked at Mrs. Danford and then bustled out of the room, clutching her notebooks to her chest and humming happily.
Mrs. Danford chuckled, amused, and shook her head as she heaved out a file of old essays. Finding one titled "An Exposition of Hamlet by Susan Pevensie," she leaned back into her chair and began to read about a displaced prince and his treacherous uncle.
"Goodness," she exclaimed to herself. "Those girls certainly understand written emotion. I'd dare say it is as if they themselves have frequented the literary world."
In the hallway, Lucy laughed.
Mrs. Danford has no idea. ;) Anyhow, thanks for reading. I'll get back to "Flawed" eventually. Edmund's next, but I'm lacking creativity. For shame!