Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Gary Snyder’s "He Shot Arrows, But Not at Birds Perching" is a poem of quiet attentiveness, companionship, and the integration of work, governance, and play. The title, a reference to Lun Yu (The Analects of Confucius), suggests an ethical or philosophical stance—one of restraint, discipline, and a respect for the natural world. The poem unfolds in a sequence of simple, grounded moments, weaving together domestic labor, political discussion, and an afternoon of archery into a seamless rhythm of life.

The poem begins with preparation: "The Governor came to visit in the mountains / we cleaned the house and raked the yard that day." The presence of a governor—perhaps the same Jerry Brown referenced in "Talking Late with the Governor About the Budget"—signals that this is no ordinary guest. There is an expectation, a social formality in making the home presentable. But the labor described here is not excessive or anxious; it is practical, routine, and attuned to the natural setting. The "mountains" provide an implicit contrast to the halls of government—a place where priorities shift from legislation to the basic rhythms of tending land.

The governor, exhausted from travel, takes his rest: "He'd been east and hadn't slept much / so napped all afternoon back in the shade." This image of a political figure sleeping in the shade offers a subtle counterpoint to the endless wakefulness of bureaucracy described in "Talking Late with the Governor About the Budget." Here, he is allowed to simply exist within the landscape, not as a figure of authority but as a person in need of rest. The mountains provide a kind of refuge from the demands of governance.^[1]

While the governor sleeps, the work of tending the land continues: "Young trees and chickens must be tended / I sprayed apples, and took water to the hens." These lines reflect Snyder’s deep commitment to the daily tasks of homesteading—tasks that are simple, necessary, and indifferent to political status. The trees and chickens require care regardless of who is visiting. There is an implicit contrast here: while governance involves abstract discussions of policy, tending trees and animals is a direct engagement with life. The phrase "must be tended" underscores the inevitability and grounding nature of such work.

The poem then moves to the next day: "Next day we read the papers, spoke of farming, / of oil, and what would happen to the cars." The conversation returns to the larger concerns of the world—agriculture, energy, transportation. These topics place the poem within the context of environmental and economic sustainability, themes that were pressing in the 1970s and remain so today. Yet the discussion remains informal, part of the natural rhythm of the visit, without the weight of policy-making.

Then, the shift: "And then beside the pond we started laughing, / got the quiver and bow and strung the bow." The sudden lightness—"we started laughing"—signals a movement away from abstract concerns into physical engagement with the present moment. The use of "we" reinforces a shared experience, a bond formed not through debate but through action. The quiver and bow, symbols of skill and discipline, introduce a different kind of focus—one that is physical, immediate, and deeply rooted in tradition.

The final lines bring the poem to its culmination: "Arrow after arrow flashing hissing / under pines in summer breeze / Striking deep in straw bales by the barn." The movement of the arrows—"flashing hissing"—captures the fluid grace of archery, a skill that requires both strength and mindfulness. The arrows fly "under pines in summer breeze," reinforcing a sense of harmony between human action and the natural world. Unlike in a traditional hunting or warfare context, these arrows are not directed at living beings; they are aimed at "straw bales by the barn," a practice that is meditative rather than destructive.

The poem’s title, drawn from The Analects, alludes to the Confucian teaching that one should not use skill or power recklessly—one should practice without unnecessary harm. This ethical consideration frames the act of archery as something beyond mere sport; it is a disciplined practice, an act of precision and focus that exists within a moral framework. By ending on this image, Snyder suggests that engagement with the world—whether through governance, labor, or archery—is best approached with intention, care, and an awareness of its larger consequences.

"He Shot Arrows, But Not at Birds Perching" is a poem of balance—between work and rest, thought and action, politics and physicality. It presents a moment of retreat from bureaucracy into the tangible world, where real skill and real care are required. The poem suggests that while governance concerns itself with policies about farming and energy, true understanding comes from direct engagement with the land. The afternoon of archery, shared in laughter and companionship, becomes a lesson in presence and restraint—a reminder that skill, like power, must be wielded with both joy and responsibility.

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