Those Winter Sundays - Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early And put his clothes on in the blueback 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? This poem is most definitely one of my favorites that I have read. One thing that i really like is how the character is telling a story but it is not so hidden in the writing. Robert Hayden doesn't write it too complicated, it is very straight forward and full of meaningful detail. The only thing that i disliked about the poem was the last two lines when it says, "What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices?", that confused me and threw me off a little bit. That same idea confused me.