In the poem “The Mutes,” Levertov 

describes the way she sees life. 

Levertov also tells of how a simple 

grunt can mean the world to you.

The Mutes

By Denise Levertov

Those groans men use

passing a woman on the street

or on the steps of the subway

to tell her she is a female

and their flesh knows it,

are they a sort of tune,

an ugly enough song, sung

by a bird with a slit tongue

but meant for music?

Or are they the muffled roaring

of deafmutes trapped in a building that is

slowly filling with smoke?

Perhaps both.

Such men most often 

look as if groan were all they could do,

yet a woman, in spite of herself,

knows it's a tribute:

if she were lacking all grace

they'd pass her in silence:

so it's not only to say she's

a warm hole. It's a word

in grief-language, nothing to do with

primitive, not an ur-language;

language stricken, sickened, cast down

in decrepitude. She wants to

throw the tribute away, dis-

gusted, and can't,

it goes on buzzing in her ear,

it changes the pace of her walk,

the torn posters in echoing corridors

spell it out, it

quakes and gnashes as the train comes in.

Her pulse sullenly

had picked up speed,

but the cars slow down and

jar to a stop while her understanding

keeps on translating:

'Life after life after life goes by

without poetry,

without seemliness,
without love.'

In the poem “The Secret”, Levertov 

describes the feeling of reading a

 poem that means so much to you. 

The girls in the poem also continuously

 find the mean of the poem that

 they read in other poems.

The Secret

By Denise Levertov

Two girls discover

the secret of life

in a sudden line of

poetry.

I who don't know the

secret wrote

the line. They

told me

(through a third person)

they had found it

but not what it was

not even

what line it was. No doubt

by now, more than a week

later, they have 

in other

happenings. And for

wanting to know it,

for

assuming there is

such a secret, yes,

for that

most of all.

forgotten

the secret,

the line, the name of

the poem. I love them

for finding what

I can't find,

and for loving me

for the line I wrote,

and for forgetting it

so that

a thousand times, till death

finds them, they may

discover it again, in other

lines

The Mutes

“Talking to Grief”: the hidden meaning

            Denise Levertov’s “Talking to Grief” shows her emotions about grief by using an extended metaphor in 

which grief is portrayed as a homeless dog.  At first, a poor, homeless dog is found under the poet’s porch. 

She takes the dog inside, gives it water, and a warm place to stay.  Then, Levertov explains the duties of the dog,

how it is to protect her domain and keep her safe.  We also learn that the dog, Grief, should be trusted in the 

following lines: “Ah, Grief, I should not treat you / like a homeless dog/ … I should trust you”.  In this quote, 

Levertov explains that we should not shun grief. The poet believes that grief is part of everyday life. The poet 

is conveying the message that grief should not be ignored, left to sit hopelessly under the porch, but welcomed

 into our homes as a member of the family.  In truth, grief is a wondrous emotion that captures our experiences.  

The only thing that we do not like about grief is that it feels painful, but is an important part of life.  Typically, medicine

 tastes horrible, but it is good for us because it will make us healthier if we are sick.  We should not shun grief but 

use it to express ourselves. In this poem, Levertov advocates that grief is only an emotion and that it is helpful. 

Talking to Grief
By Denise Levertov

Ah, Grief, I should not treat you
like a homeless dog
who comes to the back door
for a crust, for a meatless bone.
I should trust you.

I should coax you
into the house and give you
your own corner,
a worn mat to lie on,
your own water dish.

You think I don't know you've been living
under my porch.
You long for your real place to be readied
before winter comes. You need
your name,
your collar and tag. You need
the right to warn off intruders,
to consider
my house your own
and me your person
and yourself
my own dog.

Talking to Grief

In the "Living", Denise Levertov describes how time passes
when you stop to notice the finer points in life.
Levertov also shows us that time and nature seem to end but are endless

LIVING 
By Denise Levertov

The fire in leaf and grass 


so green it seems 


each summer the last summer 


The wind blowing, the leaves 


shivering in the sun, 


each day the last day. 


A red salamander 


so cold and so 


easy to catch, dreamily 


moves his delicate feet 


and long tail. I hold 

my hand open for him to go. 

Each minute the last minute.

Ikon: the Harrowing of Hell is a poem Denise Levertov wrote about the resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

Levertov also wrote about how He will come back to care for the world.

Ikon: The Harrowing of Hell

By Denise Levertov

Down through the tomb's inward arch

He has shouldered out into Limbo

to gather them, dazed, from dreamless slumber:

the merciful dead, the prophets,

the innocents just His own age and those

unnumbered others waiting here

unaware, in an endless void He is ending

now, stooping to tug at their hands,

to pull them from their sarcophagi,

dazzled, almost unwilling. Didmas,

neighbor in death, Golgotha dust

still streaked on the dried sweat of his body

no one had washed and anointed, is here,

for sequence is not known in Limbo;

the promise, given from cross to cross

at noon, arches beyond sunset and dawn.

All these He will swiftly lead

to the Paradise road: they are safe.

That done, there must take place that struggle

no human presumes to picture:

living, dying, descending to rescue the just

from shadow, were lesser travails

than this: to break

through earth and stone of the faithless world

back to the cold sepulcher, tearstained

stifling shroud; to break from them

back into breath and heartbeat, and walk

the world again, closed into days and weeks again,

wounds of His anguish open, and Spirit

streaming through every cell of flesh

so that if mortal sight could bear

to perceive it, it would be seen

His mortal flesh was lit from within, now,

and aching for home. He must return,

first, in Divine patience, and know

hunger again, and give

to humble friends the joy

of giving Him food--fish and a honeycomb.