Next, Please Summary & Analysis
by Philip Larkin

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The Full Text of “Next, Please”

The Full Text of “Next, Please”

  • “Next, Please” Introduction

    • "Next, Please" appears in Philip Larkin's 1955 collection The Less Deceived. Bluntly pessimistic, the poem offers an extended metaphor for human beings' unrealistic hopes and dreams: our "bad habits of expectancy." It imagines the bright "promises" of the future sailing toward us like beautiful ships, only to pass from our lives without ever "anchor[ing]" and fulfilling all our wishes. Ultimately, the poem reminds readers that life brings only one certainty—death—and warns against placing any hope in the afterlife, either.

  • “Next, Please” Summary

    • Because we invest too much hope in the future, we have a bad habit of expecting too much from it. We're always waiting for something, always eagerly saying, "Until then!"

      It's as if we're watching from a cliff as a glittering fleet of hopes and dreams sails toward us. They seem to sail so slowly and waste so much time—they won't hurry up!

      And they always leave us feeling disappointed, as if we're holding a handful of limp weeds. Because even though nothing prevents each huge ship from arriving—tilting forward, decked out in brass, its rigging clearly visible, its flag raised, the golden-breasted carving on its prow leaning toward us—it never stops for us. It's no sooner here than gone.

      Until the very end, we think each of these metaphorical ships will slow down and bring us everything we've dreamed of—everything we deserve for waiting so patiently and faithfully. But that's not going to happen.

      There's only one ship heading straight for us (the ship of death). It's mysterious, has a dark sail, and is dragging an enormous, bird-free silence behind it. No waves rise or fall in its wake.

  • “Next, Please” Themes

    • Theme Hope, Expectation, and Disappointment

      Hope, Expectation, and Disappointment

      Philip Larkin's "Next, Please" criticizes the human tendency to build up false hopes rather than enjoying the here and now. The speaker accuses humanity of "bad habits of expectancy," of always looking toward the horizon for what's coming "Next." As we anticipate the future, according to the speaker, "promises" seem to sail toward us like beautiful ships, which we imagine will "unload / All good into our lives." In reality, none of our dreams ever come true in this exaggerated way: the promises always turn into letdowns, and the poem implies that people should thus appreciate the present rather than remaining "too eager for the future."

      People in general share "bad habits of expectancy," the speaker claims, because "we" are "Always too eager for the future." In other words, we're too focused on the happiness we imagine is "approaching" to appreciate what we already have. As we look to the horizon of our lives, we seem to see a "sparkling" fleet of "promises" sailing our way. We're so sure these longed-for events will make our dreams come true that we grow impatient for their arrival: "How slow they are! And how much time they waste!"

      But realistically, nothing can ever satisfy our grandest dreams: even strokes of good fortune will never be as life-changing as we hope. The events we anticipate seem "distinct" and enticing as they draw near, yet they prove fleeting and/or unimpressive and inevitably leave us in a state of "disappointment." It's not necessarily that anything "balks" (frustrates) the approach of these events; it's just that they never live up to our highest expectations. Plus, they "never anchor[]" in place: even good fortune passes. The "present" always "turns to past," leaving us with a whole new set of expectations.

      Warning that death is the only certainty, the poem suggests that people might as well savor their present reality, not get lost in dreams. In the speaker's extended metaphor, the only "ship" that will linger with us is the ship of death. Death is "seeking us," we can't avoid it, and there's nothing beyond it (except "silence" and emptiness). In this way, the poem joins the memento mori and carpe diem traditions. It reminds readers that life is short—too short to waste time waiting for perfect happiness. Better, in other words, to enjoy what we've got than to keep looking to the future, as if impatiently demanding, "Next, Please."

      Where this theme appears in the poem:
      • Lines 1-24
    • Theme The Certainty and Permanence of Death

      The Certainty and Permanence of Death

      Besides deflating the false hopes we have for our lives, "Next, Please" deflates any hopes we might have for the afterlife. The poem suggests that the only guarantee in this world is death, which the speaker imagines as a "black- / Sailed" ship sailing straight for us. The "silence" and blankness behind this ship caution the reader against counting on rewards after death. This life is all there is, the poem seems to say; don't kid yourself into thinking there's anything else.

      In a poem about illusory hopes, the speaker offers one certainty: death is forever. In the speaker's extended metaphor, the "promises" that seem to lie on the horizon are "ships," which we imagine will bring us all our hearts desire. But in fact, "Only one ship is seeking us"—an "unfamiliar" and ominous one, which is implied to be death itself. This ship tows "A huge and birdless silence," and "No waters breed or break" behind it. In other words, it's bringing a total void our way. Death is complete, permanent annihilation. Thus, it represents the last proof that we will never receive "all we are owed / For waiting so devoutly and so long." There's no heavenly reward waiting for us after we die.

      Like many of Philip Larkin's poems, then, "Next, Please" is bluntly atheistic and pessimistic. Instead of waiting "devoutly" for what we feel we're "owed" (by God, the universe, etc.), the poem suggests that people should let go of piety, religious comforts, etc. and focus on the life we have.

      Where this theme appears in the poem:
      • Lines 17-24
  • Line-by-Line Explanation & Analysis of “Next, Please”

    • Lines 1-4

      Always too eager ...
      ... we say,

      The poem begins with a general statement about humanity. According to the speaker, people expect too much out of "the future." We are "Always too eager" for what's coming next (as if making the impatient demand in the title: "Next, Please"). By implication, we're not nearly focused enough on what we already have. As a result, the speaker says, we "Pick up bad habits of expectancy": basically, a habit of false or exaggerated hope.

      And exaggerated hope is easy to conjure up, because "Something is always approaching" on the horizon of our lives. We can always tell ourselves that some stroke of good fortune is on its way (whether a new job, new love, or something of the kind). As soon as we imagine this "approaching" windfall, we fixate on it, telling ourselves "Till then" each and "every day." In effect, "we say" to ourselves: Just wait until X happens: then you'll be happy. But already, it's clear from the speaker's tone and opening statement that this expectation will prove ironic.

      These opening lines also establish the poem's form, which will stay consistent throughout. The stanza is a quatrain with an AABB rhyme scheme, and it shifts from iambic pentameter in the first three lines to iambic dimeter or trimeter in the fourth. An iamb is a poetic foot with two syllables arranaged in an unstressed-stressed pattern (da-DUM); pentameter means there are five feet per line while dimeter/trimeter means there are just two/three.

      The meter isn't always exact. For example, line 1 here begins with a trochee (the opposite of an iamb):

      Always | too ea- | ger for | the fu- | ture, w

      Still, the iambic meter lends the poem a relatively steady, familiar rhythm. The shorter fourth line then seems to bring the stanza up short, as if defying or falling short of the reader's expectations:

      Till then | we say,

      Through this effect, the form cleverly evokes the poem's main theme: disappointment.

    • Lines 5-10

      Watching from a ...
      ... Of disappointment,

    • Lines 10-15

      for, though nothing ...
      ... turns to past.

    • Lines 16-20

      Right to the ...
      ... we are wrong:

    • Lines 21-24

      Only one ship ...
      ... breed or break.

  • “Next, Please” Symbols

    • Symbol The Ships

      The Ships

      The ships are part of the poem's extended metaphor, representing the "promises" that the future seems to hold out to us. At the same time, ships carry some built-in symbolism that adds to the metaphor without the poem having to spell it out.

      For much of human history, ships were the major means of transporting goods and people long-distance (and, of course, they're still one of the major means). As a result, they're symbolically associated with the arrival of eagerly-awaited things—and, by extension, with good fortune in general. The English-language idiom "My ship came in" (meaning "My dreams came true" or "I got rich") reflects this association. In the poem, each ship on the horizon seems to be our ship coming in; that is, according to the speaker, we're always awaiting some big, lucky, life-changing event.

      The ominous final stanza draws on some traditional associations, too. The "ship of death" or ghost ship is a feature of many legends, myths, and folktales. (A famous example is the legend of the Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship that spells doom to sailors who witness it.) Black sails (see lines 21-22) appear in some pirate stories, as well as in the myth of Theseus, where they're associated with tragic and ironic death.

      Where this symbol appears in the poem:
      • Lines 5-24
  • “Next, Please” Poetic Devices & Figurative Language

    • Extended Metaphor

      The poem consists almost entirely of an extended metaphor about hope and disappointment—about what the future does and doesn't hold for us. This metaphor begins with "Something is always approaching" in line 3 and concludes with the end of the poem 21 lines later.

      In this metaphor, the future events we "eager[ly]" await are like ships sailing toward us as we watch from a high "bluff." They "Sparkl[e]" with "promise[]" and possibility, even if they seem to approach much too "slow[ly]" (because we're impatient for their arrival). As they "draw near," they look lavish, alluring, and even sexy (as in the cheeky detail about the "figurehead with golden tits / Arching our way"). Indeed, wealth and sexual bliss might be among the "promises" the future seems to hold.

      But these anticipated events seem to promise more than just money, sex, etc.: they seem to promise happiness and an end to our state of impatient desire. We believe each one will "unload / All good into our lives," as in the idiom about one's ship coming in. Instead, yet each event leaves us nursing "disappointment," like a ship that's brought us nothing more than a handful of limp weeds ("wretched stalks"). It's not that these events fail to materialize: "nothing balks," or blocks, their arrival. It's just that each event is temporary ("it's / No sooner present than it turns to past") and far less life-changing than we'd imagined.

      The end of the metaphor zeroes in on the one event that will permanently change our lives: death. The poem imagines death as a "black- / Sailed unfamiliar" ship that's sailing straight for us, "towing [...] / A huge and birdless silence." In other words, whether we like it or not, death comes for all of us, and it brings nothing more than a void. The metaphor—and the poem as a whole—discourages any hope in an afterlife, just as it shoots down our grandest hopes for this life.

      Where extended metaphor appears in the poem:
      • Lines 3-24
    • Alliteration

    • Imagery

    • Repetition

    • Caesura

  • "Next, Please" Vocabulary

    Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.

    • Expectancy
    • Bluff
    • Armada
    • Make haste
    • Stalks
    • Balks
    • Brasswork
    • Prinked
    • Figurehead
    • Heave to
    • Devoutly
    • Unfamiliar
    • Breed or break
    • Wake
    • (Location in poem: Lines 1-2: “we / Pick up bad habits of expectancy.”)

      A state of hope or eager expectation.

  • Form, Meter, & Rhyme Scheme of “Next, Please”

    • Form

      The poem consists of six quatrains, or four-line stanzas. The first three lines of each quatrain are written in iambic pentameter (lines with five metrical feet and a da-DUM, da-DUM rhythm), while the final line of each quatrain is iambic dimeter or trimeter (two or three feet, same rhythm). Each quatrain follows an AABB rhyme scheme.

      The poem is about expectation and disappointment, so it's fitting that its form plays with the reader's expectations. The shorter fourth line of each stanza seems to pull the rug out from under the pattern established by the first three, bringing the rhythm to an abrupt halt. This effect is especially unsettling in the last stanza, which presents a metaphor for death. The form seems to cut the last line short in the same way death cuts life short. At the same time, the rhyme scheme remains consistent and predictable—also like death, which (as the speaker points out) never fails to arrive.

    • Meter

      The poem follows a consistent metrical pattern. The first three lines of each quatrain use iambic pentameter (lines with five metrical feet and a da-DUM, da-DUM rhythm), while the fourth uses iambic dimeter or trimeter (same rhythm, but with two or three feet). Readers can hear this pattern pretty clearly in the third stanza (lines 9-12):

      Yet still | they leave | us hol- | ding wret- | ched stalks
      Of dis- | appoint | ment, for, | though no- | thing balks
      Each big | approach, | leaning | with brass- | work prinked,
      Each rope | distinct,

      Like most metrical poems, this one contains some variation (otherwise it would sound a little boring and mechanical). In the third line above, for example, the third foot, "leaning," is a trochee (a foot with a DA-dum rhythm) rather than an iamb (da-DUM). This variation provides expressive emphasis, highlighting the strained forward leaning of these ships.

      The switch to dimeter or trimeter in the fourth line brings each stanza up short, subtly mimicking the way these metaphorical ships fall short of our expectations.

    • Rhyme Scheme

      The poem's quatrains follow a simple AABB rhyme scheme. That is, the first and second lines of each stanza rhyme with each other, as do the third and fourth lines, so the poem's full rhyme scheme is AABB CCDD EEFF, etc. All the rhymes in the poem are exact (e.g., "day"/"say").

      Along with the consistent stanza pattern, the rhyme scheme adds an element of predictability to the poem. This makes sense given the subject matter: it's a poem about disappointed hopes, but also about the predictability of disappointed hopes. Toward the end, it's about the most predictable thing of all: death.

  • “Next, Please” Speaker

    • The speaker never identifies themselves by name, age, gender, location, etc. They use the first-person plural ("we"), which allows them to express general truths, as if speaking for humanity as a whole. This effect helps lend "Next, Please" a universal quality: the poem isn't rooted in a particular person's life but in broader observations about the way the world works.

      At the same time, the speaker sounds a lot like Philip Larkin himself! Larkin's voice, as reflected in his various poems and writings, is chronically skeptical, ironic, atheistic, and pessimistic—but darkly funny as well. (His humor often arises from a combination of lyrical and vulgar language, as in lines 10-14: "Of disappointment [...] achors; it's"). Preoccupation with death, and the finality of death (see lines 21-24: "Only one ship [...] or break." ), is also a Larkin hallmark: his poems return to this theme over and over.

  • “Next, Please” Setting

    • The poem has no well-defined setting. The ocean scene it describes, with the high "bluff" and the "armada" of ships sailing in, is an extended metaphor, not part of the speaker's literal reality.

      In fact, it's fair to say that the poem is describing life in general rather than life in any particular time or place. Still, time is an important feature of the poem. The speaker critiques the universal human tendency to get lost in fantasies of the good life—to remain "too eager for the future" rather than appreciating the present.

  • Literary and Historical Context of “Next, Please”

    • Literary Context

      From the publication of his second collection, The Less Deceived (1955), until his death, Philip Larkin (1922-1985) was one of the UK's most popular poets. The editor-critic J. D. Scott grouped Larkin, along with a number of other post-World War II English writers (including Larkin's close friend Kingsley Amis), into a school he called "The Movement." The Movement poets rejected many of the formal and stylistic experiments of the previous, modernist generation. They gravitated toward a plainer style along with characteristically English settings and themes.

      "Next, Please'' appears in The Less Deceived, alongside other such other frequently anthologized poems as "Toads," "Deceptions," and "I Remember, I Remember." Many of the collection's major themes are on display here, including self-deception, the mundanity of everyday existence, and the fear of death.

      Larkin gained a reputation as both a brilliant stylist and a literary curmudgeon. He was associated with an attitude of blunt realism bordering on bleak cynicism (though some of his poems, including "An Arundel Tomb" and "The Whitsun Wedding," contain redemptive notes as well). While Larkin doesn't buy into what he sees as the clichéd deceptions that often make life bearable, he does value everyday existence. In an interview with biographer John Haffenden, he remarked, "I don't want to transcend the commonplace." The speaker in "Next, Please," who distrusts grand dreams and "bad habits of expectancy," shares a similar view.

      Historical Context

      "Next, Please" is a general commentary on hope and disappointment, designed to be applicable to all times and places. It doesn't contain any direct historical references; even its descriptions of old-fashioned sailing ships (e.g., the "Sparkling armada of promises") are part of its extended metaphor. Its lack of a defined historical setting adds to its universal quality.

      Like a number of famous Larkin poems (such as "Aubade"), "Next, Please" rejects "devout[]" hopes for life after death. Larkin wrote the poem in the mid-1950s, during a period when organized religion and religious belief were on the decline in the UK. This was the period following the two world wars, events that caused massive social upheaval and tested or shattered the faith of many who witnessed them. Generally, in the UK (as throughout much of Europe), the cultural predominance of the church had weakened since the late 19th century. As the poet put it in a 1943 letter: "[N]obody gives a darn for [religion] any longer, not in England, anyway." However, as poems like "Church Going" suggest, he also felt some nostalgia for the social cohesion that (in his view) religion used to offer.

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