ON BURNING SOME OLD LETTERS by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A man sets fire to a stack of old love letters, transforming the act into a personal ritual.
The poem
With what odorous woods and spices Spared for royal sacrifices, With what costly gums seld-seen, Hoarded to embalm a queen, With what frankincense and myrrh, Burn these precious parts of her, Full of life and light and sweetness As a summer day's completeness, Joy of sun and song of bird Running wild in every word, Full of all the superhuman Grace and winsomeness of woman? O'er these leaves her wrist has slid, Thrilled with veins where fire is hid 'Neath the skin's pellucid veil, Like the opal's passion pale; This her breath has sweetened; this Still seems trembling with the kiss She half-ventured on my name, Brow and cheek and throat aflame; Over all caressing lies Sunshine left there by her eyes; From them all an effluence rare With her nearness fills the air, Till the murmur I half-hear Of her light feet drawing near. Rarest woods were coarse and rough, Sweetest spice not sweet enough, Too impure all earthly fire For this sacred funeral-pyre; These rich relics must suffice For their own dear sacrifice. Seek we first an altar fit For such victims laid on it: It shall be this slab brought home In old happy days from Rome,-- Lazuli, once blest to line Dian's inmost cell and shrine. Gently now I lay them there. Pure as Dian's forehead bare, Yet suffused with warmer hue, Such as only Latmos knew. Fire I gather from the sun In a virgin lens; 'tis done! Mount the flames, red, yellow, blue, As her moods were shining through, Of the moment's impulse born,-- Moods of sweetness, playful scorn, Half defiance, half surrender, More than cruel, more than tender, Flouts, caresses, sunshine, shade, Gracious doublings of a maid Infinite in guileless art, Playing hide-seek with her heart. On the altar now, alas, There they lie a crinkling mass, Writhing still, as if with grief Went the life from every leaf; Then (heart-breaking palimpsest!) Vanishing ere wholly guessed, Suddenly some lines flash back, Traced in lightning on the black, And confess, till now denied, All the fire they strove to hide. What they told me, sacred trust, Stays to glorify my dust, There to burn through dust and damp Like a mage's deathless lamp, While an atom of this frame Lasts to feed the dainty flame. All is ashes now, but they In my soul are laid away, And their radiance round me hovers Soft as moonlight over lovers, Shutting her and me alone In dream-Edens of our own; First of lovers to invent Love, and teach men what it meant.
A man sets fire to a stack of old love letters, transforming the act into a personal ritual. He selects a fitting spot, draws fire from the sun, and observes as the pages curl and flicker before turning to ash. Even after everything has disappeared, he discovers that the letters remain within him, their warmth and light now lasting elements of his memory and spirit.
Line-by-line
With what odorous woods and spices / Spared for royal sacrifices,
O'er these leaves her wrist has slid, / Thrilled with veins where fire is hid
Rarest woods were coarse and rough, / Sweetest spice not sweet enough,
Seek we first an altar fit / For such victims laid on it:
Fire I gather from the sun / In a virgin lens; 'tis done!
On the altar now, alas, / There they lie a crinkling mass,
All is ashes now, but they / In my soul are laid away,
Tone & mood
The tone remains respectful and mournful, yet it avoids falling into self-pity. Lowell approaches the burning as a serious ritual, using elevated and ceremonial language—frankincense, altars, sacred pyres. Beneath this formality lies a deep sense of tenderness and grief. By the final stanza, the mood shifts to something more intimate and comforting, nearly dreamlike.
Symbols & metaphors
- The letters — The letters represent the woman and their entire relationship. They hold her physical traces — her breath, wrist, eyes — so burning them signifies both an ending and a final moment of closeness.
- The altar and the fire — The ritual of sacrifice turns a private act of destruction into a sacred one. The altar, inspired by Diana's shrine, and the sunlit flame remind us that this burning is not about erasing but about consecrating.
- The palimpsest — A palimpsest is a manuscript that reveals old writing beneath new layers. In this case, as the letters burn, concealed emotions momentarily become visible in the dark. It implies that the deepest feelings were always there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to be uncovered.
- Diana and Latmos — Diana embodies chaste purity, yet Latmos is the place where she compromised that purity for her love of Endymion. Together, they reflect the dual nature of a woman: seemingly proper on the outside, but passionately intense on the inside.
- The mage's deathless lamp — A lamp, said to burn forever in a sealed tomb, serves as a symbol in Lowell's work. He suggests that the love revealed in the letters will continue to burn within him even after death, like an unquenchable inner flame.
- Ashes — The ashes represent the physical conclusion of the letters, yet the poem asserts that they don't signify the end of their meaning. The poem's main argument revolves around the contrast between the outer ash and the inner radiance.
Historical context
James Russell Lowell wrote this poem in the mid-1800s, when letter-writing was the main way people communicated intimately, and letters were often cherished keepsakes. Burning letters was a common way to mourn or find closure, usually after a death or the end of a relationship. Lowell drew heavily on classical literature and mythology, which is why he uses imagery from Roman and Greek culture, like Diana, Latmos, and lapis lazuli from Rome. He was also part of the New England Transcendentalist circle, and the poem’s emphasis on the lasting nature of inner spiritual reality over physical objects reflects that cultural trend. This poem is part of a tradition of reflections on relics and memory seen in the works of Keats and Tennyson, but Lowell's unique ritualistic approach sets it apart.
FAQ
The poem doesn't mention the woman's name or clarify the specific situation. The burning seems like a conscious farewell—perhaps after her death or the end of a relationship. For Lowell, the significance lies in the ritual of the act rather than the details of what led up to it.
A palimpsest refers to a writing surface that has been cleaned and reused, yet remnants of the original text remain visible. Lowell employs this term to illustrate the moment when burning letters momentarily uncover concealed words in the darkness—emotions that were hidden while the letters were whole.
He wants the fire to be as pure as it can be. Sunlight focused through a 'virgin lens' is free from human interference or everyday use. This aligns with the poem's emphasis that this burning is a sacred ritual, not just a casual act.
Diana, known as Artemis in Greek mythology, was the goddess of the moon and represented chastity. However, Latmos is the mountain where, according to the myth of Endymion, she fell for a mortal shepherd, breaking her vow of chastity. Lowell uses this story to illustrate that the woman embodies both purity and intense, hidden passion — the altar is appropriate because it symbolizes both aspects.
It refers to a legend, commonly found in Renaissance and later literature, about a magical lamp that burns in an ancient, sealed tomb—its flame sustained by some alchemical or supernatural force. Lowell suggests that the secrets revealed by the letters will ignite a fire within him that lasts forever, even beyond death.
Lowell lost his first wife, Maria White, in 1853. She was also a poet, and they shared a profound intellectual and emotional connection. Many readers link this poem to her, even though Lowell never explicitly confirmed it. The depth of feeling reflects that loss.
It’s the speaker's way of expressing that their love felt completely unique—like no one had ever experienced something quite like this before. It’s a bold statement, but both grief and profound love often lead people to that feeling. The poem ends on a note of personal magnificence instead of communal sadness.
The poem unfolds in three parts: it begins by questioning what deserves to be burned alongside the letters, then transitions into the ritual of the burning itself, and concludes with the aftermath where the letters continue to exist within the speaker. Composed in rhyming couplets, it primarily uses a consistent trochaic and iambic rhythm, which lends a ceremonial, incantatory quality that resonates with the theme.