Stanza 2 Summary

Line 6

and say, sit here. Eat.

• Now the speaker seems to be putting words (as well as food) in your mouth. How does the speaker know what you will say in this extraordinary situation? Whether you want to or not, you are now playing the role of host in the unfolding drama narrated by the poem’s speaker. Like all good hosts, you offer your visitor—who also happens to be you—a chair and a snack. Taking advantage of the extra time provided by not one, but two caesurae in this line, you graciously gesture toward the chair and the refreshments.

Line 7

You will love again the stranger who was your self. 

• Ah-ha—here we are, halfway through the poem, and the word “love” finally pops up for the first time since the title. Now, that cheeky speaker is predicting that you will not just tolerate your self as a visitor, but actually “love again” this “stranger who was your self.” (Did you notice how alliteration strengthens the association between “stranger” and “self”? Check out “Sound Check” for more on that.)
• The past-tense verb “was” reveals that this other self, though in some sense a stranger, is associated with your past. Until now, this apparition of a second self could be viewed as a random visual hallucination, perhaps a mirage created by some trick of the light. But line 7 clearly suggests that your visitor is an image of the person that you used to be, a younger version of yourself. And, at some point in the past, you apparently loved yourself, because the speaker is insisting that you will love that self “again.” What a nice thought. No wonder your two selves greeted one another with a smile back in line 5.
• Pictured in this way, self-love seems natural and kind, not selfish or conceited. But maybe Narcissus had that same thought when he fell in love with his own reflection (for more on this, see the “Why Should I Care?” section). So we better be careful.

Lines 8-9

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

• These lines mark a shift in tone, as the speaker’s voice becomes more urgent and insistent. Notice how the speaker has slipped into imperative mode, issuing instructions rather than making predictions. 
• And what’s with the bread and wine? Are you and yourself going on a picnic? (If so, we hope to be invited, because this poem is starting to make us hungry.) Bread and wine may also remind you of the ritual of Christian Communion (see “Shout-Outs” for more on this). The short, repetitive statements in line 8 do seem to evoke a kind of ceremonial atmosphere. And the word “heart” has spiritual as well as emotional connotations.
• But how or why would you want to “give back your heart to itself”? What does that statement even mean?
• Here’s an idea: if you look carefully at the wording of lines 8 and 9 (“Give back your heart/ to itself, to the stranger who has loved you”), you’ll see that the speaker is equating the words “heart,” “itself,” and “stranger.”
• In other words, the speaker is urging you to love the stranger. Line 7 already established that this stranger is your past self—a self that you once loved. The new information in line 9 is that the feeling was mutual.
• Moreover, your past self still loves you and is waiting patiently to be loved “again” by your current self.
• In short: it’s time to kick back, munch some bread, sip some wine, and start loving yourself again.