The Summit Redwood

A companion lyric to Cawdor and a splendid fire-poem in its own right, The Summit Redwood (CP 1:189) has never been selected for any anthology, possibly because it appears to put “people of color” in a bad light, or perhaps because its style appears to be inconsistent. I happen to see it as a marvelous portrait of kindred defiants: a red tree and a red man.

Redwoods don’t often grow on summits, particularly on the coast, but often enough for the purposes of this poem. They are shaken by lightning commonly enough.

But this old tower of life on the hilltop has taken
it more than twice a century, this knows in every
Cell the salty and the burning taste, the shudder
and the voice.

The fire from heaven; it has felt the earth's too

The lyric begins with a powerful depiction of a redwood tree’s battle for survival against the fires of earth and heaven, but then the imagery takes a sharp turn into the military and religious, and the wording turns toward the vulgar, comparing the redwood to a “helmet spike” and a “finger in heaven,” closing out its first part with the symbolic observation that the solitary tree’s “boughs make their own rain.”

This redwood is no plaything of bucolic sentimentality: rather, it is a warrior and a god. Perhaps this is not what most Jeffers readers are generally after in nature imagery. I can’t speak for the majority.

Perhaps the second part is what really gets the poem in trouble with readers. Suddenly a cattle rustler named Escobar, likely an Indian whether Mexican or Californian, is introduced as the protagonist of the second part of the poem:

Old Escobar ... Would drive the cow up here to a starlight death and hoist the carcass into the tree's hollow, ...

Is this a racist stereotype? Well yes, I suppose it is, but we should take care not to assume that this poem sees Escobar as a "thievin' Indian" of yore, for Escobar could just as likely be a heroic rebel, fighting defiantly with cynical desperation against pale-face hegemony. This was a familiar dichotomy of the Old West: "one man's cattle thief is another man's freedom fighter."

If we look at the closing lines of the poem, Escobar appears to see his theft, upon concealing the carcass in the bole of this summit redwood, like a brilliant but secret star, hidden in the vastness of the sky. There is no guilt. To Escobar, this theft is a thing of triumphant beauty.

Is Jeffers saying that Escober is wrong to hide a carcass in a redwood trunk? I don't see the poem implying that there's anything wrong with it. Perhaps there is some mockery of human ambition and hubris here. Escobar's triumph is a tiny thing in the grand scale of nature, yet Jeffers depicts just how magnificent and grand Escobar feels.

We should take care not to assume that this poem sees Escobar as a “thievin’ Indian” of yore, for Escobar could just as likely be a heroic rebel, fighting defiantly with cynical desperation against pale-face hegemony. This was a familiar dichotomy of the Old West: “one man’s cattle thief is another man’s freedom fighter.”

If we look at the closing lines of the poem, Escobar appears to see his theft, upon concealing the carcass in the bole of this summit redwood, like a brilliant but secret star, hidden in the vastness of the sky. There is no guilt. To Escobar, this theft is a thing of triumphant beauty.

Is Jeffers saying that Escober is wrong to hide a carcass in a redwood trunk? I don't see the poem implying that there's anything wrong with it. Perhaps there is some mockery of human ambition and hubris here. Escobar's triumph is a tiny thing in the grand scale of nature, yet Jeffers depicts just how magnificent and grand Escobar feels.

I don’t think this is a poem about right and wrong. It seems to me that it’s more about how magnificent a tiny being can feel. His triumph is not to be mocked, though. It is indeed microcosmic, but it remains grand. Jeffers makes us sure that this is so. He makes us feel it:

                         ... he could smile for
pleasure, to think of his meat hanging secure
Exalted over the earth and the ocean, a theft like a
star, secret against the supreme sky.

The Summit Redwood is posted elsewhere.

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