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BY GUSTAV PFIZER by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A wandering young man dreams of having a wife and child, only to lose them both to death.

The poem
A youth, light-hearted and content, I wander through the world Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent And straight again is furled. Yet oft I dream, that once a wife Close in my heart was locked, And in the sweet repose of life A blessed child I rocked. I wake! Away that dream,--away! Too long did it remain! So long, that both by night and day It ever comes again. The end lies ever in my thought; To a grave so cold and deep The mother beautiful was brought; Then dropt the child asleep. But now the dream is wholly o'er, I bathe mine eyes and see; And wander through the world once more, A youth so light and free. Two locks--and they are wondrous fair-- Left me that vision mild; The brown is from the mother's hair, The blond is from the child. And when I see that lock of gold, Pale grows the evening-red; And when the dark lock I behold, I wish that I were dead.

Public domain · sourced from Project Gutenberg

Quick summary
A wandering young man dreams of having a wife and child, only to lose them both to death. Upon waking, he holds two locks of hair—one brown from the mother and one blond from the child—which fill him with deep sorrow. This poem, translated by Longfellow from a German original, illustrates how a single object can embody a whole universe of grief.
Themes

Line-by-line

A youth, light-hearted and content, / I wander through the world
The speaker describes himself as a carefree and rootless young man. The imagery of a tent that is quickly pitched and taken down, reminiscent of Bedouin life, suggests that he has no permanent home — he belongs nowhere and to no one. His tone is light and slightly boastful, creating a stark contrast with what comes next.
Yet oft I dream, that once a wife / Close in my heart was locked,
The word 'yet' serves as the poem's central pivot. The speaker confesses that he frequently imagines a domestic life that he never experienced — or maybe one he had and lost. A wife 'locked' in his heart and a child he rocked evoke feelings of warmth, safety, and belonging. This dream feels so real that it resembles a memory.
I wake! Away that dream,--away! / Too long did it remain!
The exclamation marks indicate the speaker is desperately trying to shake off the dream, much like someone slapping themselves awake. However, the need to command the dream to leave — and the acknowledgment that it lingered 'too long' — reveals that he can't just push it aside. It has crept into his waking life as well.
The end lies ever in my thought; / To a grave so cold and deep
Now the dream's complete story comes to light: it concludes with death. The 'beautiful mother' is laid to rest, and the child follows — 'dropt the child asleep' softly suggests the child's passing as well. The chill and depth of the grave stand in stark contrast to the warmth of cradling a child in the earlier stanza.
But now the dream is wholly o'er, / I bathe mine eyes and see;
The speaker washes his face—a simple, grounding act—and reaffirms his identity as a free wanderer. The phrase "light and free," repeated from the opening stanza, feels like a return to his true self. However, the reader can sense that this sense of resolution is delicate.
Two locks--and they are wondrous fair-- / Left me that vision mild;
The twist is that the dream left behind something real. Two locks of hair—one brown and one blond—are the only physical reminders of the wife and child. It's unclear whether these are genuine keepsakes from people who actually died or if they somehow crossed over from the dream world into reality. This ambiguity is what gives the poem its haunting quality.
And when I see that lock of gold, / Pale grows the evening-red;
The child's blond lock absorbs the colors of the sunset — even beauty fades in the shadow of the child's death. The last two lines hit hard: the sight of the dark lock of the mother's hair leaves the speaker wishing for his own death. The sorrow for the child is overwhelming; the sorrow for the mother feels unbearable. The poem concludes not with closure but with raw, unfiltered pain.

Tone & mood

The tone unfolds in a thoughtful progression. It begins with a sense of lightness—almost like a confident traveler—before shifting into a dreamy state, and then tightening into anguish. By the last stanza, any hint of freedom has vanished. The poem's gentle, ballad-like rhythm maintains a surface-level control of emotion, making the final confession ('I wish that I were dead') hit much harder than if the poem had been lamenting from the beginning.

Symbols & metaphors

  • The tentThe quickly pitched and furled tent reflects the speaker's life of being rootless and unattached. It suggests freedom, yet also highlights the lack of a home and permanence—a life where he believes he has nothing to lose.
  • The two locks of hairThe brown and blond locks serve as the poem's main symbols. They represent tangible evidence of love and loss, connecting the dream world with reality. In the 19th century, it was common to keep a lock of hair from a deceased loved one as a mourning practice, making this image particularly relatable for Longfellow's readers.
  • The fading evening-redThe sunset fades when the speaker gazes at the child's lock of hair, symbolizing the beauty and life that are slipping away. The natural world reflects his deep sorrow — even the sky seems to lose its vibrancy.
  • The dreamThe dream is both a safe haven and a source of anguish. It offers the speaker a glimpse of a life filled with love and family, yet it inevitably concludes in death. The poem leaves readers uncertain about whether the wife and child truly existed or were just figments of imagination, turning the dream into a symbol of unfulfilled desire.

Historical context

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow translated this poem from the work of German poet Gustav Pfizer (1807–1890), who was part of the Swabian School of Romantic poetry. Longfellow had a strong connection to German literature throughout his life; he taught modern languages at Harvard and translated works from German, Spanish, Italian, and more. This poem was published during a time when keeping mourning hair was a common Victorian and Romantic custom, with lockets and brooches containing strands from deceased loved ones being popular mementos. Longfellow experienced profound personal loss himself: his first wife, Mary, passed away in 1835, and his second wife, Frances, died in a fire in 1861. His translations of sorrowful German poetry were not just academic pursuits — they provided him with a way to express his own grief.

FAQ

It’s Longfellow's English translation of a poem by the German Romantic poet Gustav Pfizer. Longfellow was a prolific translator who frequently published translated poems alongside his original pieces. The emotional choices in the English version — including the word order, rhythm, and emphasis on specific images — reflect Longfellow’s style, even though the original idea belongs to Pfizer.

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