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Fern Hill, a la Shmoop: The Green, Green Grass of Home.

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Remember that trip to Disney World you took when you were two?

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Of course not. . .you were two. But we bet there’s someone. . .

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. . . who remembers enough for both of you.

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In fact, some people get a little crazy about the

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past. . .

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. . .like the speaker in Dylan Thomas’ poem, Fern Hill.

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For six stanzas. . .

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. . .he goes on and on about how great the place was.

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Is he just missing a simpler time. . .

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. . .when he didn’t have responsibilities?

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C’mon. . .who doesn’t? Being an adult isn’t all it’s cracked

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up to be. . .

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And hanging out in nature all day. . .

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. . .sure beats working for a living.

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Or maybe he’s just ticked off that his youth is

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over. . .

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. . .and that it ended without ever being appreciated.

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He does say things like “time let me play. . .

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. . .and “nothing cared I that time would take me”

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But maybe that’s not it either.

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Maybe what he’s really nostalgic about. . .

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. . .is Fern Hill itself. He mentions how green and beautiful the place

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is like a hundred times. . .

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. . .so maybe he’s just homesick. And being homesick can motivate anyone to

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dwell on the past. So why is the speaker of Thomas’ poem. . .

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. . .going gaga about his past? Is he envious of the carefree life he left

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behind. . .

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. . . is he a guy mourning the loss of his youth. . .

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. . .or is he a native son missing the beauty of his childhood home?

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Shmoop amongst yourselves

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