“Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” begins by making it clear that the poem is a work of ekphrasis—a form of literature in which a writer describes and reflects upon a work of visual art. This poem is inspired by (and takes its title from) a painting attributed to the 16th-century Dutch master, Pieter Bruegel the Elder. This poem is part of a sequence of 10 poems all based on Bruegel works. Both the poem'a title and the opening line, then, are part of the poem’s overall allusion to the painter of the original work. (As this is an ekphrastic poem, readers should check out the painting it's based on to understand what's happening here!)
The reference to Bruegel is only the first layer in the poem’s use of allusion. While the poem overall alludes to the painting, the painting itself alludes to the Greek myth of Icarus and Daedalus—and a brief understanding of that myth is necessary before looking at the poem in greater detail.
In the original myth, the young Icarus escapes captivity by flying with a pair of artificial wings made for him by his father, Daedalus. In spite of his father's warnings, Icarus flies too close to the sun. This melts the wax holding his wings together, and Icarus falls to his death.
The original myth, then, is a kind of fable that warns against excessive hubris (pride and arrogance). Both the painting and the poem play with the idea that, unless people experience something first-hand, they are unlikely to find profound lessons in the suffering of others—they are simply too busy leading their own lives. That’s why the poem and painting are title “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus,” and not simply “The Fall of Icarus.”
The opening stanza establishes the thread between the different allusions, and recognizes the authority of Bruegel, who is generally considered one of the most important painters of his era (the Dutch and Flemish Renaissance). Though the poem is, of course, not by Bruegel, the speaker sets out from the start that what happens in the poem is also what happened “according to Bruegel.”
The first tercet (three-line stanza) sets the scene, achieved entirely by one seasonal word: “spring.” Even with this one word, the poem sets up a kind of tension between life—the renewal and growth of springtime—and death in the figure of Icarus.
The poem is written in free verse, but there is an interesting metrical effect in the opening:
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
Brueghel is pronounced with stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable. The second line picks up on the sound of the artist’s name, rhyming “-ghel” with “fell” (though given that the "-ghel" in "Brueghel" isn't stressed, the rhyme is subtle). Note above, however, how "fell" takes on a heavy stress after the unstressed “-us” in “Icarus,” meaning that, even in the seeming simplicity of the opening lines, the poem represents the myth in miniature. The heaviness of that stressed beat on “fell” subtly reflects the way that gravity brings Icarus crashing down to earth. The lack of punctuation and continual enjambment—both characteristic of Williams’s poetry—also give visual representation the fall, the poem crashing down the page as each line gives way rapidly to the next.