‘Predictions are always difficult’, an anonymous Danish person (probably not Niels Bohr) is said to have quipped – ‘especially about the future.’ Poets have often dwelt on the past, whether nostalgically or more dispassionately; they have dealt with the current times they have lived through; but they have also sometimes turned their thoughts to the (as yet unknown) world of the future. Here are ten of the greatest poems to consider the future.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 17.
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts …
Shakespeare begins this sonnet – the one preceding his more famous sonnet 18 – by asking who will believe his claims about the young man’s beauty in the future, even though he, Shakespeare, is merely giving credit where it’s due? The Fair Youth whom he’s addressing really is as fair as Shakespeare describes him, but few readers would believe it. So Shakespeare’s poems praising the Youth will be like a tomb – which hides the body away from the world – and keeps many of his best qualities hidden, because poetry cannot truly capture the Youth’s beauty.
Matthew Arnold, ‘The Future’.
But what was before us we know not,
And we know not what shall succeed.
Haply, the river of Time—
As it grows, as the towns on its marge
Fling their wavering lights
On a wider, statelier stream—
May acquire, if not the calm
Of its early mountainous shore,
Yet a solemn peace of its own …
A lesser-known poem by the poet, critic, and educationalist Matthew Arnold (1822-88). The present moment is soon past, to be replaced by the future. As Heraclitus said, we cannot step in the same river twice, and all of life is in flux; Arnold meditates on these features of Time in this poem.
Emily Dickinson, ‘The Future Never Spoke’.
The Future never spoke –
Nor will he like the Dumb
Reveal by sign – a Syllable
Of His Profound To Come –
The future, personified in this poem as some form of sentient entity, refuses to reveal to us what is going to happen. Unlike the ‘Dumb’, i.e. humans without the power of speech, the Future refuses to use sign-language to communicate what is going to happen. Instead, it keeps shtum. Instead, it reveals what is going to happen ‘in the Act’ – as things are happening. Because the Future only shows its hand when ‘Future’ has already become the present ‘Act’, we have no chance to prepare for what’s in store, either to escape our fate or to ‘Substitute’ or change our path.
Robert Frost, ‘Fire and Ice’. Will the world end in fire or ice? These images suggest various things – fire suggests rage, war, passion; ice suggests cold indifference and passivity – and can be interpreted in a number of ways, which lends this classic short poem about the end of the world an ambiguous, symbolic quality.
Wallace Stevens, ‘A Postcard from the Volcano’. This 1936 poem is about the interplay between the present and the future, and about what will last – what we will leave behind, and how future generations will interpret it. Stevens begins ‘A Postcard from the Volcano’ by declaring that children of the future, picking up the bones of those of us who are alive today, will never know that they were once part of a human who moved as quickly as foxes running over a hill. Stevens then moves to consider non-human life, imagining a future world (post-apocalypse) where grapes, growing on the vines during the frost, are a distant memory. Still, at least the children of tomorrow will be able to see our bones. What they won’t have is any knowledge of the art and culture we made in response to the world we saw around us.
T. S. Eliot, ‘The Hollow Men’. Published in 1925, this poem by the author of The Waste Land picks up on that earlier poem’s theme of the end of civilisation, but this time the stakes are raised: ‘The Hollow Men’ is about the end of the whole world. The poem famously ends by telling us that the ‘world ends’ with ‘a whimper’ rather than a bang, and the poem is shot through with purgatorial imagery of limbo and twilight. The references to a ‘fading star’ suggest a possible context in 1920s physics, and debates surrounding entropy and the slow heat-death of the universe.
Louis MacNeice, ‘Star-Gazer’. To look at the night sky is to look into the past: we are looking at stars, not as they are now, but as they were thousands, perhaps even millions of years ago. Written in 1967 but looking back to his eighteenth birthday some 42 years earlier, MacNeice’s ‘Star-Gazer’ thinks bigger than man’s three-score-and-ten, reflecting on the fact that some of the stars now bursting into life will never be seen by the poet, because they are so far away their light will only reach earth a long, long time in the future.
Stephen Spender, ‘The Pylons’. For Spender (1909-95) in this poem, which spawned the name of a whole poetic movement (the ‘Pylon Poets’ of the 1930s), the electricity pylons springing up across the English countryside are symbols of the future, placed in a landscape that has been largely unchanged for centuries. Whilst cities have been radically transformed in the last few hundred years by a succession of technological innovations – industry, factories, skyscrapers, the advent of the motorcar – the English countryside has largely remained the same, yet this is precisely where the pylons have been situated … or, at least, is the place where they are the most conspicuous.
Simon Armitage, ‘A Vision’. This 2006 poem depicts the contrast between our idealistic hopes and plans for the future and the somewhat less perfect reality, which often falls short of our expectations. Specifically, Simon Armitage uses the example of town planning and the ways in which the reality of the town, once built, failed to live up to the perfection embodied by the miniature model of the new town. Everything seems playful, as if life is a light-hearted game: ‘play’ seems to peep out from that ‘display’, as if inviting us to read the word not as showy ‘display’ but as dis-play, a game gone wrong. The ‘suburbs’ depicted in the sketches and display models of the town are likened to a ‘board-game’, not just because the little models of people and places look like game pieces but because the life they are selling is a carefree one, like playing a board-game. The bus routes and train lines look like ‘fairground rides’ (for trains read ghost trains) or ‘executive toys’, combining work and play in an unattainable ideal. Even the material from which the model town is constructed is light: balsa wood.
Sarah Howe, ‘Relativity’. Howe wrote this poem about scientific ideas – specifically relating to Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity and its impact on subsequent physics – and read it to Stephen Hawking, to whom the poem is dedicated. It’s beautiful, moving, and shows that science continues to inspire some of the finest poetry. Howe turns her thoughts to science as prediction in the second half of this sonnet, making it a fine note on which to conclude this selection of poems about the future.