Porphyria’s Lover by Robert Browning

1. What kind of an atmosphere is evoked by the first four lines of the poem? How does this reflect the character’s feelings? The first 4 lines created a dark and spooky atmostphere. The night rain and the sullend wind show that the character was sitting by himself alone in his cottage. He was so quiet that he could eventualyl described the weather surrounded him so details.

4. What impression do you gain of Porphyria from what she does when she arrives? From the following lines of the poem, the author described Porphyria as the sun and the warthm came in the middle of the night to chased the cold and rain away. So imaginely I had an impression of her as an ordinary woman with a warm smile and personality that can embrace everything that is around her.

6. Why should the reader’s curiousity be aroused by the statement: “When no voice replied”? Because it seems like he was expecting her to come by and give him a visit, but when she does, he did not act or sound like he was hoping that she would come. She called him, but he did not say a word to reply her call. So it is strange compared to what he said above, that is why the reader’s curiousity aroused by the statement in my opinion.

10. What does he decide to do? Why? What does this show about him? He basically decided to strangled her with her hair. I think this man is insanly in love with his woman, although he knew that she was getting married, or getting marry with another man. That idea of keeping it to himself made him came to an act that killing her, so then she (or her body) can stays by his side forever and not coming back to the other man. He has to be love her really much that eventually he lost control of his actions and mind.

11. How does he treat the dead Porphyria? Why? He opens her eyes, and lay her head on his shoulder. He positioned her the exact same way she was sitting before he killed her. I think because he has this idea in his head that his lover is alive, still and he is sitting next to her. People like him who lost it, they usually prefer to keep their mind this way, that the person they just killed is still alive.

14. What is it about Porphyria that seems to attract Porphyria’s lover most? He loved her for the fact that she puts himself first and then her. When she first came in, she was cold and wet, but she didn’t make herself comfortable but she lighted up the fireplace for him. And her physical beauty, that’s the 2 things he loved about her.

20. What wish of Porphyria’s does the lover believe he has granted? He believed that he has granted her the wish to be with him forever.

25. Is this poem only about love, or are other ideas being explored through the poem? I think this poem is only about love, or how insane a man/woman can be when they are crazily in love with somebody.

Full text: The rain set early in tonight,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me — she

Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me forever.

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain:

So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshiped me: surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily oped her lids: again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

I propped her head up as before,

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!