A Few Figs from Thistles

In Short

This collection of poems serves as a manifesto for a new kind of modern femininity. Through a series of brief, piercing lyrics and sonnets, it navigates the terrain of fleeting love, unconventional living, and the defiance of societal expectations. The work has endured because it strips away the artifice of Victorian sentimentality, replacing it with a candid, sometimes biting, honesty about desire and autonomy. It is a portrait of a woman who refuses to be pinned down, documenting the joy and the exhaustion of choosing one’s own path.

The Story

The arc of the collection begins with a declaration of intent: a rejection of long-term security in favor of a life lived with intensity. The opening poems establish a persona who is acutely aware of time—both the literal hours of the night and the broader span of a life. The narrator is frequently found in transit, whether on a ferryboat at dawn or walking the crowded streets of New York, observing the domestic lives of others with a mixture of pity and detachment.

As the collection progresses, the focus shifts to the complexities of romantic entanglement. The narrator is not a traditional romantic; she views love as a temporary, if intoxicating, state. She explores the humor of being caught in the "witless" trap of caring for someone who is clearly not worth the trouble, and she finds liberation in the realization that broken hearts often lead to a profound, if cynical, freedom. She mocks the "patient" men and the women who settle for hearth-bound existences, framing her own life as a series of transient, high-stakes encounters.

Midway through, the tone darkens slightly, touching on the tensions of heritage and the feeling of being pulled between conflicting identities—the "harlot" and the "nun." The narrator rejects the false comfort of piety, finding that even when she attempts to sit in "gloom" to repent for minor sins, she is physically incapable of staying miserable. She chooses, instead, to put a ribbon in her hair and seek pleasure.

The latter portion of the collection—the sonnets—serves as the intellectual resolution. Here, the narrator confronts the god of love itself, challenging the notion that passion must result in subservience or suffering. She asserts her own power, claiming the right to be fickle and the right to walk away. She treats her lovers as temporary guests in her life, acknowledging that while she may vow fidelity today, her nature is "mobile as the veering air." The final poems do not offer a settled, domestic conclusion. Instead, they reinforce the narrator’s commitment to her own transient nature. She acknowledges that she will eventually "forget" her current lover, just as she has forgotten others, viewing this cycle not as a tragedy, but as a biological and existential necessity. The book ends where it began: with the narrator standing firmly in her own independence, ready to move on to the next discovery, unburdened by the weight of permanent attachments.

How It Unfolds

The urgency of the present The collection opens with the iconic image of the candle burning at both ends, signaling a life lived for intensity rather than longevity. This beat establishes the narrator’s rejection of "safe" foundations in favor of the shifting, unstable sands of experience.

The restless traveler We follow the narrator through nights spent on ferryboats and long, aimless walks. These scenes emphasize a sense of detachment from the stationary world, as she buys morning papers she does not read and gives away her money, prioritizing the moment over security.

The defiance of domesticity The focus shifts to the lives of neighbors and friends who have settled into traditional marriages. The narrator observes these "patient" men and "hug-the-hearth" women with a mixture of amusement and superiority, reaffirming her own choice to remain a "rover."

The internal struggle A brief, surreal interlude explores the narrator’s conflicting origins and the tension between religious obligation and wild instinct. This beat illustrates her struggle to define herself against the "hedges and ditches" of her upbringing.

The battle with love The final movement centers on the sonnets, where the narrator engages in a sophisticated debate with the concept of romantic devotion. She dismantles the idea of eternal love, asserting that her own inconstancy is a form of truth, and prepares to move on once the thrill has inevitably faded.

The People

The narrator is the central, driving force—a woman who is, by turns, a prophet, a liar, a lover, and a wanderer. She is defined by her desire to experience everything while remaining beholden to nothing. She wants the freedom to explore, and what stands in her way is the persistent, gravity-like pull of social expectation and the human desire for stability. By the end, she remains unchanged in her essential nature, having successfully defended her right to be "faithless" to any vow that threatens her autonomy.

The "Not Impossible Him," or the various lovers, function as objects of her temporary fascination. They are often described as "false" or "liars," which the narrator uses as a justification for her own lack of commitment. They want her to be a fixed point in their lives, but they are consistently thwarted by her refusal to be "locked into" a name or a role. They serve primarily as foils to highlight the narrator’s vibrant, uncontainable spirit.

In Its Own Voice

My candle burns at both ends; / It will not last the night; / But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-- / It gives a lovely light!

This opening stanza defines the narrator's philosophy of living intensely, even at the cost of her own longevity.

Faithless am I save to love's self alone. / Were you not lovely I would leave you now; / After the feet of beauty fly my own.

This line from the sonnets clarifies her commitment to the sensation of love itself, rather than to any individual person.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this collection is an inquiry into the cost of independence. It asks whether a woman can live a life of total autonomy without becoming hollowed out by loneliness or cynicism. The poems argue that the pursuit of pleasure and the refusal to succumb to conventional domesticity are not moral failings, but are, in fact, a form of radical honesty. The work probes the nature of "faithfulness," suggesting that true integrity lies in staying honest about the transience of one's own feelings. It is a profound, albeit light-footed, look at the tension between the human need for connection and the equally strong human need to remain uncaptured by anyone else.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate sharp, economical language and a voice that refuses to apologize for its own complexity will find much to admire here. The poems read with the immediacy of a conversation overheard in a crowded room; they are rhythmic, witty, and deeply human. Because the language is grounded in the vernacular of the early 20th century, some readers may find the references to "clams-carts" or specific social hierarchies of the era slightly distant, yet the underlying emotional themes—the fear of settling, the thrill of the new, and the struggle to be understood—are remarkably modern.

The collection feels like a series of postcards from a woman who has decided that her life belongs solely to her. You will likely walk away from these pages with a renewed appreciation for the "lovely light" of the present moment. It is a slim, fast-paced volume, making it an excellent companion for a single sitting, though its images have a way of lingering in the mind long after the book is closed. It remains essential for anyone interested in the history of the modern female voice and the enduring power of concise, unflinching poetry.