in Just- Summary
It’s that
day in May when the sun starts shining for the first time in weeks and
everybody you know heads out to the park. The story’s pretty simple:
spring has sprung. Everything’s growing and all-around delightful.
The kids, in fact, jump for joy when the man selling balloons starts to whistle. Clowns (and other balloon-selling folk) have gotten a bad rap for being scary and creepy, but this guy seems to be all right. At the very least, he gets the kiddies to come running to him.
That, folks, is the poem. See? We told you it wasn’t so bad.
Why the big fuss about the first day of spring? Well, that’s where the magic of this poem takes over. See, E.E. Cummings creates a poem that’s half painting and half sound-scape (that’s the aural version of a landscape). We know, we know: we told you it was a poem. But it’s also an image. We won’t get deep into the technical reasons for why this works so well here; check out "Symbols, Imagery, Wordplay" for some closer looks at all the good stuff that’s going on. For now, though, we’ll just tell you to read the poem aloud. You’ll see what we mean. Chock-full of words like "mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful," the poem seems to be bursting with descriptions of the way that a spring day in the park looks and feels and sounds and smells. And because the poem repeats itself several times (in fancy technical terms, we’d call that a "refrain,") it emphasizes the way that all the tiny details of the poem actually contribute to one overarching image: the park in spring.
spring when the world is mud-
luscious
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
running from marbles and
piracies
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
from hop-scotch and jump-rope
it's
spring
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
The kids, in fact, jump for joy when the man selling balloons starts to whistle. Clowns (and other balloon-selling folk) have gotten a bad rap for being scary and creepy, but this guy seems to be all right. At the very least, he gets the kiddies to come running to him.
That, folks, is the poem. See? We told you it wasn’t so bad.
Why the big fuss about the first day of spring? Well, that’s where the magic of this poem takes over. See, E.E. Cummings creates a poem that’s half painting and half sound-scape (that’s the aural version of a landscape). We know, we know: we told you it was a poem. But it’s also an image. We won’t get deep into the technical reasons for why this works so well here; check out "Symbols, Imagery, Wordplay" for some closer looks at all the good stuff that’s going on. For now, though, we’ll just tell you to read the poem aloud. You’ll see what we mean. Chock-full of words like "mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful," the poem seems to be bursting with descriptions of the way that a spring day in the park looks and feels and sounds and smells. And because the poem repeats itself several times (in fancy technical terms, we’d call that a "refrain,") it emphasizes the way that all the tiny details of the poem actually contribute to one overarching image: the park in spring.
Section I (Lines 1-10) Summary
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 1-3
in Just-spring when the world is mud-
luscious
- The first lines of this poem set the scene: the entire world has realized that it’s springtime.
- Our speaker doesn’t appear to be too obsessed with details here. It’s not like he’s saying that there was a light drizzle from 8am - 10:30, and now there are puddles on 103rd St.
- Nope. That would be lame. It’s SPRING! Get EXCITED! The entire WORLD is full of mud!
- When we stop to think about it, there are a very few select populations that get super-excited about mud: pigs and small children. We won’t spend too much time pointing out the other similarities between the two species here. If you’ve got younger brothers or sisters, you can probably do that yourself.
- Don’t get us wrong, we love Charlotte’s Web. Since it’s about the only book we can think of which features talking pigs (besides Animal Farm, but that’s just creepy), however, we’re guessing that the poem voices the viewpoint of children. Who else would get so psyched about a world of mud?
- Check out "What’s Up with the Title?" for our thoughts on "Just-spring." We won’t spoil the surprise here!
- Oh, and if you’re wondering what’s up with all the hyphens, read on…
Lines 3-5
the littlelame balloonman
whistles far and wee
- Now that we’ve established how spring-y this spring is, our speaker introduces a character: the "little/ lame balloon man."
- The word "lame" means he can’t walk properly – he’s got a limp.
- He’s sort of out of place in the world of spring, where everything is young and new and full of life. In this world, a little man with a limp seems, well, old. And out of place.
- It’s slightly jarring, but our speaker doesn’t seem too upset about it. After all, we don’t hear anything nasty about the balloonman; we just hear his whistle.
- Check out the way that Cummings stacks up the "l"s in these lines, though: little lame balloonman. It creates a lilting tone as all those "l"s roll off your tongue.
- Lilting is peaceful, isn’t it? It reminds us of when moms (or dads) sing kids lullabies before they go to sleep. For all that the lameness of the balloonman might be creepy, the language that Cummings uses to describe him makes him seem pretty soothing.
- In case we haven’t mentioned it, E.E. Cummings is all about the spaces between words. Check out line 5 for an example of this: "whistlesfarand wee."
- What’re they good for? Well, here’s our best Shmoop expert opinion: when you read a line of poetry aloud, your eyes (and therefore your voice) tend to speed on to the end of the line. Try it and see. When you read "in Just-," however, the spaces slow your eyes down. More importantly, they slow your voice down, as well. As you’re reading, you’re thinking, "Huh? I totally don’t know whether to pause for the spaces or not!" And even in that time that it takes to think that through, your voice slows oh-so-slightly. Kind of cool, huh?
- So we pause during the lines. So what? You can almost hear the time that it takes for the balloonman’s whistle to travel across the playground. The space between "whistles" and "far" mimics this time. It’s like we actually see the sound and maybe even its echo afterwards.
- One more thing: did you notice what we haven’t got in this line? Punctuation. We told you Cummings was one crazy cat! Check out our analysis in "Form and Meter" for some more thoughts on this.
Lines 6-8
and eddieandbill comerunning from marbles and
piracies
- Drawn by the sound of the balloonman’s whistle, the kids (Eddie and Bill) come running from their games.
- Notice how "eddieandbill" all just jam themselves together into one word? It’s almost like a little kid is so excited to be telling you about what’s going on that the poem refers to them as one person. Remember how you used to ask your folks, "Can meandSpencer go to the pool?" That’s what we’re talking about.
- The coupling of real-life marbles and imagined adventures as pirates only adds to this euphoria. Kids usually don’t distinguish between the real and the imaginary (and more than they leave spaces between words or use appropriate punctuation).
- Playing marbles and being pirates? All in a good day’s work. This, folks, is a kid’s world.
Lines 8-10
and it'sspring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
- Have we mentioned that it’s spring. It’s Spring. SPRING!
- Our speaker is so excited about it that he even gives "spring" its very own line (that would be line 9, in case you were wondering).
- Once again, we’re not into cutting corners when it comes to being excited about spring. The Entire World fills with puddles.
- Notice how the poem seems to be circling back on itself, repeating one or two central themes? We bet you can guess what they are: 1) It’s spring. 2) Spring is generally awesome. 3) Know how we know it’s spring? In spring, the balloonman starts to sell balloons.
- First it was "Just-spring." Then "mud-luscious." Now "puddle-wonderful?" What’s with all the weird made-up words? For one thing, creating words gives the poem a sense of limitless possibility, of creativity and…creation. Sort of like spring itself.
- For another, it allows Cummings to totally throw normal syntax – the order of words – out the window. To be honest, it’s more like he’s throwing normal syntax off the Empire State Building. Syntax is getting a serious beating here.
- See, "luscious" and "wonderful" are adjectives. In "normal" language, you might see them tacked onto nouns (like, say, "mud" or "puddles"). Talking about luscious mud or wonderful puddles may not be something you do everyday, but it sounds pretty much like everyday language. Adjectives describe nouns.
- Using the magic of a hyphen, however, Cummings plays some serious games with language. All of a sudden, "mud-luscious" is one great big adjectival phrase describing the world. It’s the world that is "mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful."
- See how that works? The world isn’t just wonderful. It’s wonderfully puddle-y. Kind of nifty, huh?
Section II (Lines 11-23) Summary
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 11-13
the queerold balloonman whistles
far and wee
- Wait a second…little, lame, queer, and old? This balloon-selling guy is totally not fitting in with the rest of the poem. ("Queer," by the way, just means "weird.")
- We’re back to the refrain of the poem, in case you’re wondering. This time, we get just a tiny bit more info about this balloonman character.
- We’ll say one thing: he may not fit into the rest of the spring-themed thing we’ve got going on, but he does seem to be driving all of the action.
- We’ve got to admit, we’re not quite sure what to do with line 13 (or lines 5 and 25, for that matter). We understand whistling far. We even could understand whistling far and wide. But whistling far and wee? Does that even make sense?
- Maybe the balloonman’s whistling a "wee" little tune. Or maybe he’s whistling for the wee ones (that would be the kiddies). Or maybe it makes no sense at all. We’ll leave that up to you.
Lines 14-15
and bettyandisbel come dancingfrom hop-scotch and jump-rope
- Just like Eddie and Bill, the girls come running. Just like last time, these lines are jam-packed with action.
- They’re also some of the longest lines of the poem. Length, like jammed-together words, creates a sense of fullness and action. Packed with Very Important Activities, the world of little kids overflows with energy.
Lines 15-17
andit's
spring
- We’ve said it before, we’ll say it again. Spring, folks. Got it?
- Notice, though, that the words are spreading out across lines. Does this cause you to focus more on what’s being said? Do you slow down when you read each line? Probably. We sure do.
- One critic has suggested that this spacing out of the lines mimics something growing. It’s kinds like those sped-up videos of a seed growing out of the ground. All of a sudden, it unrolls itself, lengthening into a long stalk.
- Take a good look at the words of the last stanza on the page. Kind of like a flower-stalk, huh?
Lines 18-23
andthe
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
- On a slightly more disturbing note, the balloonman, the guy who’s interrupted all the playing and games and fun of spring, is the one who gets the poem’s final attention.
- We’re left with the sound of his whistle (and the knowledge that, if things work the way they have in the past, all sorts of little kids are about to come running).
- OK, sure, he’s got balloons. But he’s old. And strange. Why does he get to be part of spring? Come to think of it, he seems pretty darn ominous.Well, we do finally get one tiny hint about who this balloonman might be in these last lines. Besides goats, a few famous mythical creatures had goat’s feet. Satyrs, in particular, are often depicted as creatures that are human in appearance from the waist up and goat-like from the waist down. Check out our "Websites" links for some more info (and some pretty sweet pictures) of satyrs.
- Fans of woodland revels, satyrs fill their days with drinking, dancing, and mischief. Pan, a super-famous god of the satyrs and shepherds, even carries a pipe, which he uses to get nymphs to dance.
- Hmm…pipe-playing and whistling. Sound familiar? For more of our thoughts on this Greek god thing, check out "Symbols, Imagery, Wordplay."
- On another note, the pipe-playing Pan brings us back to the "Songs of Innocence" (see our "In a Nutshell" for a reminder about William Blake). After all, the "Songs" start out with a poem about a piper playing a song about a lamb. It’s all beautiful and pastoral and, well, innocent.
- If the balloonman is a version of Pan, however, things become slightly more sinister. After all, Pan wasn’t exactly a paragon of innocence. He’s all into revelry and debauchery. And it doesn’t look like he’s about to slow down anytime soon.
- In fact, the poem’s "ending" (or lack thereof) seems to emphasize this fact. He’ll go on whistling and kids will continue to come running to him.
- Lovely? Creepy? We’ll leave that up to you.
[in Just-]
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
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