"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
In My Own Words
Even on Sundays, my father would wake up before the sun rose. In the deathly cold, he would dress, and with hands that ached from the work he did all week, he would build a fire in the fireplace to warm the house. And nobody ever thanked him for it. By the time I woke, the house would be warming up. My father would call once the house was warmed sufficiently. I would get up slowly and get dressed, feeling scared of the anger that dominated the house. I would speak without care to my father, who had not only banished the cold, but had also polished my good shoes while I slept. I did not understand how love could be so simple and unadorned.
“Those Winter Sundays” is one of my favorite poems to teach, and coincidentally, it is one of the poems that is most often seen in anthologies of great poetry.
This poem is a tribute to the quiet love of a father, but it is not without its darkness. There is the regret of the speaker in regards to his thankless attitude towards his father, and there is also the mention of “the chronic angers of that house.” To put it simply, we get the idea that it’s complicated.
Everything the father does for his family is a quiet gesture. Without being asked, he gets up before the sun “in the blueblack cold” to warm the house. He even polishes the shoes while he waits for the rooms to warm, and he does not wake anybody until the house is sufficiently comfortable. He does this despite his aching hands, showing us that he does hard physical labor throughout the work week, but still wakes up early to warm the house.
However, there is the troubling line, “fearing the chronic angers of that house.” I tend to think that this is about the father, too, although there might be evidence to suggest a different explanation. But, this would go along with the poet’s use of the word “austere” in the final line. Austere can mean simple and unadorned, but it can also mean severe or harsh. It is possible that the boy does not notice his father’s gestures because he is often domineering and angry.
Now, looking back on his father’s actions, the boy regrets that he didn’t notice his father’s gestures of love. But, what does a child understand about showing love in quiet ways?
Love can be quiet, even solemn. It can also be complicated. “Those Winter Sundays” encapsulates this side of love, through the father’s “austere and lonely offices.”