Stanza 1 Summary

Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.

Lines 1-3

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.

  • This poem definitely starts off with a bang, not a whimper.
  • You might not have a clear idea of what the heck this speaker is talking about, but we certainly get the sense of an intensity, some urgency, in the speaker.
  • This is some pretty powerful stuff the speaker is feeling and he doesn't mind sharing. (We're just assuming the speaker's a he at this point.) So, what's he feeling so intense about? 
  • We're glad you asked.
  • First things first: let's deal with "the force."
  • A good place to start with the force is to figure out if we are talking Jedi or Dark Side here—is this force positive or negative?
  • Get out your official Shmoop magnifying glass; it's time to do some Sherlock-style investigation.
  • Fact: the force moves "through the green fuse," and "drives the flower." Umm, what? Okay don't panic, this isn't as bad as it seems.
  • The "flower" is… well, a flower. So that "green fuse" must be… anyone, anyone? Yup, the flower's stem. So, "the force" goes through the stem and "drives" the flower.
  • The use of the word "fuse" makes the image of the flower very active. The word brings to mind the fuse on an explosive device or fireworks. As a result of those associations, the flower's bloom becomes much more vigorous and exciting. It's not just blooming; it's exploding. 
  • "Drives" in this context means "fuels," or "powers." So, what goes through a plant's stem that would fuel a blooming flower? Water? Okay, that sounds reasonable—for now. This "force" sounds like a good thing to us. It's making flowers bloom. That can't be bad, right?
  • In addition to fueling the flower, the force also "drives [the speaker's] green age."
  • We started off talking about plants, so with that in mind what does the color green usually indicate? Yup, that plant's alive and healthy. Green also can indicate that the plant is new or young. For example, we say something is "green" if it isn't ripe yet.
  • If we take this idea of green and apply it to the speaker, what happens? If you said the speaker turns into a giant green apple, you have a great imagination. Good for you. Unfortunately, you're a little off base on this one.
  • When talking about people, we might say they are "green" if they are young or inexperienced. In the poem, "green age" becomes of metaphor for youth.
  • So, the force is also fueling the speaker's youth, his vitality. The word "green" shows up twice in the poem's first two lines.
  • Thomas definitely wants us to take notice.
  • "The force" could certainly still be referring to water—we need it to live after all. But we're starting to get a bigger sense of this force.
  • This life-giving force is, perhaps, more metaphysical in nature—a more spiritual or cosmic kind of life force.
  • But wait; there's more. The force is also responsible for "blast[ing] the roots of trees." Hey—that doesn't sound very nice.
  • The verb "blast" is pretty aggressive and it has mostly negative associations. When we see and hear the word "blast," we usually think destruction.
  • And, as it turns out, the force is the speaker's "destroyer." Coincidence? We think not.
  • It seems like this force has both some Jedi and some Dark Side qualities. It's bringing flowers to bloom and fueling the vigor of youth, but it's also blasting roots and destroying the speaker.
  • Before we move on, let's take a closer look at some of Thomas's word choices in Stanza 1. Words like "force," "fuse," "drives," "blasts," and "destroyer"all have an active, aggressive, powerful quality. Whatever this force is, and whatever our speaker is feeling, it's on steroids.
  • Now for one last thing: there seems to be a connection developing between how the force acts upon nature and how it acts upon our speaker.
  • It seems like the speaker and the natural world are tied together in some way: "green fuse" (nature) / "green age" (speaker).
  • They've certainly got that repeated "green" in common. Let's keep an eye on this connection as the poem continues.

Lines 4-5

And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

  • The speaker says he's "dumb" to tell the flower that what ages ("bends") him is the same "wintry fever" that has made the rose "crooked."
  • It's not that the speaker has super-low self-esteem and is calling himself stupid here. In this context, the word "dumb" refers to being temporarily unable speak or unable to clearly express oneself, as in "When she saw the Bigfoot holding a chainsaw, she was struck dumb with fear."
  • So, the speaker is unable to tell the rose that what ages it is the same thing that's aging him.
  • What do you suppose that "wintry fever" is? The force, perhaps? Good guess. but what is the force? (Here's one explanation. Okay, this isn't quite what Thomas had in mind—but it's still good to know.)
  • The force definitely seems to be pretty powerful and inescapable. "Time" is certainly one force that would fit the bill. Take your… um, time and think about it.
  • Time can be seen as a positive and a negative force. Time is equally responsible for life and death. This might account for our speaker's conflicted feelings on the subject: Time is making the flower bloom; it is also moving the flower and the speaker closer to old age and death. Bummer.
  • So, "the force," "the destroyer," and even that "wintry fever" are all names for time. In fact, they are all metaphors for time.
  • Okay, so the force is time. But what's making the speaker unable to speak? Why can't he just say, "Hey rose, we all grow old and die, like it or not"?
  • Well, it could be fear. It's no fun thinking or talking about death. It could also be the fact that, even if he does tell the rose what's up, it doesn't really matter. It doesn't change anything. Maybe the speaker is just going with the old adage "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
  • It could also be that the speaker feels unable to accurately describe what it is he is feeling about time's dual powers: of creation and of destruction. It is, after all, some pretty deep stuff—not too easy to wrap your mind around.
  • We also get the sense that the speaker is seeing and feeling everything at once. Things that would take lots of time to happen are all squeezed into one 5-line stanza. The flower blooms and withers in the space of just a few lines.
  • This sense of compressed time adds to the feelings of intensity we get from this speaker and the poem. Everything is happening at once.
  • Thomas also hits us with a little light personification in stanza 1. That flower doesn't talk or dance a jig, but it is implied that, if the speaker were able to talk, the rose would be able to hear him.
  • The use of personification further develops the interconnectedness between man and the natural world, the sense that we (people, animals, plants, rocks) are all in the same boat when it comes to the effects of time.
  • So, here at the end of stanza one, that force seems equally capable of creating and destroying beauty, vitality, and life. Beware the force—but also celebrate it.
  • One last note before we head off to stanza 2: we're sensing The use of slant rhyme ("flower," "destroyer," "fever" and "trees," "rose") and iambic meter here, though it's subtle. For more on that good stuff, head on over to "Form and Meter."