Stanza 1 Summary

Lines 1-2

We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso

• Welp, right off the bat in this poem we find out what we can't know. Thanks a lot there, speaker.
• More specifically, we're told that we can't know "his legendary head." So… who is "he"? Ah yes, we have our title to thank for the answer: "Archaic Torso of Apollo." 
• "Archaic" just means old, so in essence what we have here is a speaker looking at the old body (your "torso" is just your middle bit, without the heads, arms, or legs) of… Apollo Creed, that boxer from the Rocky movies
• What's that? Those films were made in the '80s? That hardly qualifies as "archaic" now, does it?
• More likely, this speaker is looking at an ancient Greek statue of the god Apollo, the deity in charge of artistic stuff like music and poetry. Seems appropriate, don't you think?
• All the same, we can't know his head. That is, dude's head is missing—which is why we "cannot know" it.
• Remember, all we have to look at here is a torso—no arms, no legs, and no head.
• And yet, the speaker goes to simile town to describe Apollo's eyes ("like ripening fruit"). This comparison tells us how fertile and, well, fruitful Apollo's gaze must have been. 
• At the same time, the speaker's already told us that the head is missing—and we're pretty sure that the head plays an important role in housing the eyes. So, our speaker here is imagining what those eyes would have looked like, had the head of the statue remained.
• The speaker also goes on to describe the torso, as well, but we'll have to wait for line 3 for those deets.

Lines 3-4

is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

• After the enjambment from line 2, we're told more about the statue's torso (Apollo's middle bit, his chest basically). 
• Even though the statue is headless, it still has a spark of charisma and personality. The speaker describes a certain glow (that's what he means by "suffused with brilliance"), despite the fact that we can't see its face. 
• Another simile compares tells that the torso is shining like a lamp. Now, this isn't a literal light (it isn't, like, a light-up mannequin lamp or anything—though that might be kind of cool). Instead, it's a figurative illumination of pure beauty, giving this fragmented statue its elegance and sense of vivacity. 
• Even without a head, the statue's gaze still has power (underscored by the imagined fertility of his missing eyes)—it's just muted ("turned to low") now that the head is missing.
• A few things about form before we leap off to stanza 2: did you notice a certain rhythm in these lines? If you did, high-five yourself (go ahead, it's fun). Lines 1 and 3 are composed in a pattern of beats known as iambic pentameter. Don't get too hung up on the terminology for now. Check out "Form and Meter" for all the details. 
• For their part, lines 2 and 4 seem to be doing their own thing, beat-wise. They do show off some end rhyme, though ("torso" and "low"). And lines 1 and 3 sort of rhyme, as least as far as the D sounds of their endings ("head" and "inside"). That's known as slant rhyme. Why it there? "Form and Meter" has your answers. 
• Finally, we'll just point out that the act of making art about… well, art is known as ekphrasis. This poem, as a meditation on a piece of sculpture, is an ekphrastic poem. Try that word out at your next party. For now, though, let's read on…