"At the San Francisco Airport" by Yvor Winters - Norton Literature

Though Yvor Winters was born in Chicago on October 17, 1900, he took up residence in many places from coast to coast, attending several universities, and ending up working on his doctorate in Stanford University.  During his time, he became an acclaimed poet and literary critic, receiving a prize for his poetry and renown for the magazines he edited.  He suffered from tuberculosis for the majority of his life, however, and unfortunately succumbed to throat cancer on January 25, 1968.




"At the San Francisco Airport" by Yvor Winters
            to my daughter, 1954


This is the terminal: the light
Gives perfect vision, false and hard;
The metal glitters, deep and bright.
Great planes are waiting in the yard--
They are already in the night.                               5


And you are here beside me, small,
Contained and fragile, and intent
On things that I but half recall--
Yet going whither you are bent.
I am the past, and that is all.                                10


But you and I in part are one:
The frightened brain, the nervous will,
The knowledge of what must be done,
The passion to acquire the skill
To face that which you dare not shun.                 15


The rain of matter upon sense
Destroys me momently. The score:
There comes what will come. The expense
Is what one thought, and something more--
One's being and intelligence.                               20


This is the terminal, the break.
Beyond this point, on lines of air,
You take the way you must take;
And I remain in light and stare--
In light, and nothing else, awake.                        25
                                                                       [1954]

Taken at face value, this poem takes place in the San Francisco Airport; a father standing with his daughter, both nervous but ready to board the airplane.  I believe Yvor Winters intended a deeper meaning, however.  The poem is packed with connotations and inferences, and what may ostensibly seem to be an innocent airplane boarding is revealed to be so much more.  The poem begins and ends with an ominous line: “This is the terminal.”  The word “terminal” is ambiguous; directly, it could refer to a portal at the San Francisco Airport.  If one analyzes the context of that word in the poem overall more deeply, however, it takes on a different meaning.  The speaker of this poem (it may very well be Winters himself) recognizes that he has almost arrived at the last stop.  The next stanzas describe his daughter standing beside him, “small,/contained and fragile,” using this simple diction to paint an image of a simple, delicate flower of a girl, requiring special care and attention.  This time, the speaker is “the past, and that is all;” he can no longer be there to support her, “going whither [she] is bent.”  She is not entirely alone though; the speaker’s words offer small hope, as they “in part are one.”  He will remain with her, as part of her “brain,” her “will,” her “knowledge,” and her “passion.” With the memory of him, she will carry on his legacy where he cannot.  The last stanza designates the final goodbye; he repeats that “This is the terminal” from the beginning of the poem, only this time, it is a “break.”  This sharp and precise word marks the final separation and release from his daughter.  He must “remain in light and stare,” for this is his last stop.  Yet, while he cannot board the next plane himself, he is allowed one last look at his daughter, his legacy, before she continues through the terminal.