MA English Part.2 Syllabus Punjab University
Paper Modern Poetry
Church Going
Philip Larkin
Once I am sure there's nothing going on
I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
Another church: matting, seats, and stone,
And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and
stuff
Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,
Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take
off
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence.
Move forward, run my hand around the font.
From where I stand, the roof looks almost new
-
Cleaned, or restored? Someone would know: I don't.
Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few
Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce
'Here endeth' much more loudly than I'd
meant.
The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door
I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.
Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,
And always end much at a loss like this,
Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,
When churches will fall completely out of use
What we shall turn them into, if we shall
keep
A few cathedrals chronically on show,
Their parchment, plate and pyx in locked
cases,
And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?
Or, after dark, will dubious women come
To make their children touch a particular
stone;
Pick simples for a cancer; or on some
Advised night see walking a dead one?
Power of some sort will go on
In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;
But superstition, like belief, must die,
And what remains when disbelief has gone?
Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress,
sky,
A shape less recognisable each week,
A purpose more obscure. I wonder who
Will be the last, the very last, to seek
This place for what it was; one of the crew
That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts
were?
Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,
Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff
Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?
Or will he be my representative,
Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt
Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of
ground
Through suburb scrub because it held unspoilt
So long and equably what since is found
Only in separation - marriage, and birth,
And death, and thoughts of these - for which
was built
This special shell?
For, though I've no idea
What this accoutred
frowsty barn is worth,
It pleases me to
stand in silence here;
A serious house on
serious earth it is,
In whose blent air
all our compulsions meet,
Are recognized, and
robed as destinies.
And that much never
can be obsolete,
Since someone will
forever be surprising
A hunger in himself
to be more serious,
And gravitating with
it to this ground,
Which, he once
heard, was proper to grow wise in,
If only that so many
dead lie round.
Summary of Poem
Church Going
"Church Going" is a poem by Philip
Larkin that describes the speaker's reflections on visiting a church, even
though he is not a religious person. The speaker enters the church and looks
around at the various artifacts and symbols, noting the sense of history and
tradition that the church embodies. He reflects on the fact that even though he
is not religious, the church still holds a certain kind of significance for
him.
The speaker then thinks about the idea of
"going to church" and what it means. He notes that even though
attendance at the church is declining, the church itself will still be there
and will continue to be visited by people. He also reflects on the idea that
the church has been around for centuries and will likely continue to be around
for centuries more, despite the decline in attendance.
The speaker then reflects on the idea of what
will happen to the church once it is no longer in use. He imagines it being
converted into a museum or a storage facility, and wonders what will happen to
the artifacts and symbols within it. He also reflects on the idea that the
church may be forgotten and abandoned, and the memories and traditions
associated with it will fade away.
Overall, the poem is a reflection on the
significance of religion and tradition, and the way that these things continue
to hold meaning for people, even if they are not religious. It also touches on
themes of history, change, and the passage of time, and the way that these
things affect our understanding of the world around us.
The poem is written in the first-person
perspective and it starts with the speaker entering a church. He is not a
regular church-goer, but he finds himself in the church, and starts to look
around. He notes the various artifacts and symbols in the church, such as the
pews, the hymn books, and the stained glass windows. He comments on the sense
of history and tradition that the church embodies, and reflects on the fact
that even though he is not religious, the church still holds a certain kind of
significance for him.
The speaker then reflects on the idea of the
church as a physical structure, and how it has stood for centuries and will
likely continue to stand for centuries more, despite the decline in attendance.
He also reflects on the idea that the church is a symbol of continuity and
stability, and that it represents something that is constant and unchanging in
a world that is constantly changing.
In the last stanza, the speaker reflects on
the idea that the church is a place where people come to find solace and
meaning, and that it represents something that is greater than oneself. He also
reflects on the idea that the church is a place where people come to find
answers to the big questions in life, and that it represents something that is
eternal and unchanging.
Overall, "Church Going" is a
contemplative and reflective poem that explores the significance of religion
and tradition, and the way that these things continue to hold meaning for
people, even if they are not religious. It also touches on themes of history,
change, and the passage of time, and the way that these things affect our
understanding of the world around us.
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