The poem for me, illustrates a beautiful image of timelessness being interrupted. Lucy is almost portrayed as immortal; her beauty was so breath-taking.
When she died, or "ceased to be", the author is just left astounded - "what has happened here?" My main inspiration for my story was the last paragraph.The character of Edward is ruled by routine. The war was a significantly distressing experience for him. He needed a stable friendship, and in Francesca, that's what he got.
When Francesca "ceased to be" however, he was left feeling shell-shocked. There is no one else who knew the impact it would have on his life - "The difference to me!""She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways"She dwelt among the untrodden waysBeside the springs of Dove,A maid whom there were none to praiseAnd very few to love:A violet by a mossy stoneHalf hidden from the eye!- Fair as a star, when only oneIs shining in the sky.She lived unknown, and few could knowWhen Lucy ceased to be;But she is in her grace, and, oh,The difference to me!The Unsent LetterI shifted to fix my shirt cuff, and the reflection moved in synchronisation. I turned to scrutinise the illustration of my life. Before me stood a complete picture of my experiences.
They were clearly etched into my face as lines on my forehead, as sunken pockets of skin underneath my eyes, and as the visible slump of my shoulders. A scar stretched from the inside of my elbow to my wrist, a constant and painful reminder of the Great War.I tore my eyes away from the eternal blemish. The man in the mirror grimaced as I attempted to smile. They say a picture tells a thousand words. If that's true, then my picture tells a story of loss, devastation and constant sadness.
That attempt at a smile says more than I could ever by speech.