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An Analysis of Howard Nemerov’s ‘Money’
Howard Nemerov was born in New York City in 1920, and his first poetry
collection, The Image and the Law, was published in 1947. In 1974, L. S. Dembo asserted
that ‘Howard Nemerov is unquestionably a poet of impressive talents’, although it was
not until four years later that this was recognised in the form of a Pulitzer Prize for his
Collected Poems.1 Alan Shapiro argues that ‘in the late sixties and early seventies […] free
verse was by far the dominant form’ and its proponent poets were held as ‘sacred pieties’
until the mid-eighties when a counter-movement – ‘New Formalism’ – began.2 However,
Nemerov, along with other poets such as Richard Wilbur and James Merrill, can
certainly be classed as a formalist for he ‘writes in blank verse, quatrains, triplets, sonnets,
and a great variety of complex rhyme schemes’.3 Formalist poetry has always existed,
being perhaps the one constant trend that all other movements buck against, and
Nemerov observes this, asking, ‘when you get rid of the regularities of verse, what
regularities will you have to replace them?’. 4 Shapiro expands, noting that ‘without some
sort of discernible recurrence of sound and structure, some norm of expectation, no
surprise, no significant variation is possible’ (p. 205). In other words, if there is no
disparity between a reader’s expectation of a poem and the reality of it, there is no
surprise, and it is the surprise, the formalists argue, that makes poetry interesting.
However Nemerov does not always adhere to form, and ‘Money’ (Collected Poems) is
written in free verse. There are perhaps grounds to consider the poem loosely
pentametrical, but with such inconsistent line lengths – some have as few as seven beats,
others as many as sixteen, and very few a neat ten – the looseness is more remarkable
than the pentameter. This ‘formlessness’ shall be discussed further below in a line-by-line
analysis of Nemerov’s treatment of symbolism and double-meaning in this poem.5
‘Money’ is a poem of three ‘movements’. The first is observational, describing the
‘icons and cryptograms’ (4) found on a 1936 American nickel; the second explores the
symbolism of the images; the third is a ‘conclusion’ (36). The poem’s sub-title – ‘An
Introductory Lecture’ – offers some insight into this structure, for it does indeed follow
the standard description-interpretation-summation progression of most lectures. This is
the first striking aspect of the text, for it is unusual to find facts in modern poetry, and it is
also helpful when it comes to understanding the poem’s register and narration. The
speaker presents information in a dry, informative tone, although laced with typical
Nemerovian mocking irony, and implicates the reader with references to ‘our nickels’ (24)
1 L. S. Dembo, ‘Review of The Shield of Perseus: The Vision and Imagination of Howard Nemerov’, American Literature,
4 (1974), 625-626 (p. 625).
2 Alan Shapiro, ‘The New Formalism’, Critical Enquiry, 1 (1987), 200-213 (p. 200).
3 Peter Meinke, ‘Howard Nemerov’ in Seven American Poets from, MacLeish to Nemerov: An Introduction, ed. by
Denis Donoghue (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1963), pp. 250-284 (p. 272).
4 Howard Nemerov, ‘On the Measure of Poetry’, Critical Enquiry, 2 (1979), 331-341 (p. 336).
5 Howard Nemerov, ‘Money’ in The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry, ed. by J. D. McClatchy (New
York: Vintage, 1990), pp. 126-127.

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and ‘our studies’ (46). Use of the collective pronoun alludes to the possibility that this
‘lecture’ is directed at the United States of America as a whole, but the poem is carefully
constructed to emulate a genuine academic presentation. From the outset of the text –
‘this morning’ (1) – the attempt at verisimilitude has begun, for of course it could be read
at any time of day, so whilst the poem appears to be inclusive with its ‘we’s and ‘our’s and
‘you’s, it is in fact exclusive of the reader, who can only experience the lecture after its
(fictional) effect. The tripart structure, academic voice, direct address, and lack of easily
visible metre and rhyme are crucial to the credibility of the ‘lecture’. Lecturers do not
generally speak in verse, or compose their orations to be metrically precise, so if ‘Money’
was regimented into blank verse, for example, or heroic couplets, the artificiality of the
poem would be foregrounded. It is important for the text’s effect that it approximates the
naturalistic quality of speech and successfully replicates an academic register.
What is perhaps most notable about ‘Money’ is Nemerov’s subtle injection of
ironic wit and double meanings into his speaker’s seemingly straightforward discourse.
This begins with the title, for the ‘introductory lecture’ is not about money at all but ‘the
study of symbolism’, which, apparently, is ‘basic | To the nature of money’ (2-3). These
lines also have dual meaning, for symbolism is basic to the nature of money in several
ways. In literal terms, the images or symbols on coins and notes allow a distinction to be
made between their values, but the coins and notes themselves are symbolic of what Marx
called their ‘exchange-value’ – cash therefore symbolises the concept ‘money’.6
The speaker then displays a nickel, which acts as synecdochically for all money.
Significantly, ‘icons and cryptograms are written all over | The nickel’ (4-5). A
cryptogram is writing in code, indicating that the seemingly straightforward text on the
coin – ‘UNITED STATES OF AMERICA’ (8); ‘E PLURIBUS UNUM’ (9); ‘FIVE
CENTS’ (14); ‘LIBERTY’ (19); and ‘nineteen-thirty-six’ (18) – is some kind of puzzle to
be deciphered. The first ‘icon’ is the ‘hunchbacked bison’ (5) who appears on one side of
the coin ‘bending his head and curling his tail to accommodate | The circular nature of
money’ (6-7). ‘His’ cramped position is signalled linguistically in the alliterated ‘b’ sounds,
and there is a trademark Nemerov double meaning in ‘circular nature’, as coins are
physically circular, and moreover the exchange of money is a circular process. The
‘accommodating’ bison is the first representative of the irony inherent in inappropriate
symbols, which becomes apparent as the theme around which ‘Money’ revolves. As well
as helpfully bending himself into the shape of a nickel, our bison is held captive by the
cage of ‘UNITED STATES OF AMERICA’ (8), which ‘arches’ (7) above him.
There is also irony inherent in the Latin motto ‘squinched in’ (8) behind the bison.
It reads ‘E PLURIBUS UNUM’ (9), which Nemerov feigns to dismiss as vague, ‘a
Roman reminiscence that appears to mean | An indeterminately large number of things
| All of which are the same’ (10-12). In a sense, though, it does mean this. ‘Out of many,
6 Karl Marx, ‘Capital’ in Literary Theory: An Anthology, Revised Edition, ed. by Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan
(Blackwell: Oxford, 1998), pp. 268-276.

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one’ is the translation, so rather than a throwaway comment, the phrase can be
interpreted as meaning that the ‘indeterminately large number of things’ (the ‘many’) are
‘the same’ (‘one’). The irony is only fully evident when read in conjunction with the rest
of the poem. The bison, of whom there once were many, are now dwindling in number,
and the American Indians, who are segregated, are not a part of the ‘many’ – or,
therefore, the ‘one’. As a motto for America it alludes to the racial melting pot, strength
through diversity, the power of community, but as the Indian proves, the reality of
America is far less cohesive. The following lines – ‘Under the bison | A straight line
giving him a ground to stand on | Reads FIVE CENTS’ (12-14) – imply that the real
basis of America, the true common ground, is economic: money is the bedrock of society,
not community.
Having exhausted the bison and its accompanying cryptograms, Nemerov moves
to the other side of the nickel. Here ‘there is the profile of a man with long hair | And a
couple of feathers in the hair’ (15-16). Already it is clear to the reader what the image
represents, and Nemerov draws attention to this: ‘we know| Somehow that he is an
American Indian’ (16-17) – and how do we know? Because feathers and long hair, we
have come to understand, are symbols of Native American heritage, and we associate
those images with American Indian culture. Then, predictably, comes the ironic twist:
‘Right in front of his eyes the word LIBERTY, bent | To conform with the curve of the
rim’ (19-20). American Indians are by no means at liberty: their closest symbolic
relationship to liberty is that, having been confined to reservations, their virtual absence
allowed the new settlers of America greater liberty themselves. That the inscription of
‘LIBERTY’ is ‘bent | To conform’ is clearly ironic – liberty is about freedom, not
conformity. The enjambment of this line is crucial; the emphasis is on the word ‘bent’,
which, arriving immediately after the word ‘liberty’ constructs the idea that liberty itself is
bent, is perverted, that the American idea of liberty – a foundational value – is a crooked
one. It has further connotations, too, for the American Indians were themselves bent to
conform – like the word ‘liberty’ – and the affiliation of liberty with money seems to draw
a collocation between the two – suggesting that money is liberty, or can at least purchase
it. However, ‘the Indian | Keeps his eyes downcast and does not notice this; | To notice
it, indeed, would be shortsighted of him’ (21-23). Another play on words – it would be
literally ‘shortsighted’ of the Indian to notice the word ‘liberty’ as it is so near his eyes, but
it would also be metaphorically myopic for him to view the ‘primitive concentration
camp’ (31) of his reservation as freedom. Although Nemerov describes the Indian as ‘not
noticing’, it seems more wilfully ignorant, for to accept or embrace the notion of liberty as
cherished by America would mean abandoning his own idea of liberty.
Thus ends the descriptive movement of the poem, which gives way to an
interpretation of the inappropriate and outdated symbolism used on the nickel in
question. Nickels, says the speaker, are ‘now becoming a rarity and something of | A
collectors’ item: for as a matter of fact | There is almost nothing you can buy with a
nickel’ (25-27). Nickels themselves, then, are symbols of another time – a time in which

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there were plenty of things that could be bought for five cents. Nemerov follows the
decline of the nickel by explaining that ‘the representative American Indian was
destroyed | A hundred years or so ago, and his descendants’ | Relations with liberty are
maintained with reservations’ (28-30). Thus a play upon ‘relations’, meaning the Indian’s
family relations, and a heavy pun on ‘reservations’, suggesting an uncomfortable
relationship between the oppressors and the oppressed, brings extra meaning to these
lines.
The situation of the Indian, that like ‘the bison | Except for a few examples in
cages | Is now extinct’ (31-33), causes the speaker to reflect on Keats’s ‘celebrated | Ode
on a Grecian Urn’ (34-35). Keats’s poem is similar to ‘Money’ in that it takes a detailed
look at an artefact from the past – the Grecian urn of the title – and attempts to interpret
the scenes depicted on it. The Ode’s argument is that one can never understand eternity,
and so should not attempt to. Both the symbols on the urn and the symbols on the nickel
are outdated and therefore cannot be translated by modern thinking.
The final section of ‘Money’, the ‘conclusion’ (36), is nothing more than four
points ‘overlooked | Even by experts’ (37-38). The images, ‘confined to obverse and
reverse’ (39) can ‘never see each other’ (40); ‘they are looking | In opposite directions’
(40-41); ‘They are upside down | To one another’ (43-44); and ‘the bison has a human
face’ (44). As a list, they seem to be meaningless irrelevances, and that is precisely the
point. The only significant aspect of lines 36-46 is the enjambment of lines 40 and 41 –
‘bison past’ and ‘Indian past’ lingering on the ends of the lines – emphasising that the past
is the only place where those things truly exist. The final three lines, however, give the
previous ten their meaning: ‘I hope that our studies today will have shown you |
Something of the import of symbolism | With respect to the understanding of what is
symbolized’ (46-48). In a nutshell, the studies have shown that the symbol and the
symbolised often bear only very loose relation to one another. The bison is an important
symbol in America – although what of is less clear – but their venerated status did not
prevent them from being hunted to near-extinction. The Indian has no connection to
liberty. Neither the bison nor the American Indian have much to do with money, despite
appearing on the nickel, aside from arguably being negatively affected by capitalism. The
main correlation is that money – physical cash, at least – is also slowly becoming extinct.
However, money is trapping where Indian and bison are trapped, and this is the ultimate
irony. ‘LIBERTY’ emblazoned on a coin, when in a capitalist society money is the
ultimate entrapment, leading to the commodification of almost everything, keeping those
who use it enslaved.
Meinke observes that ‘Nemerov circles around and around the things of this
world, finding them insubstantial, frightening, illusory, beautiful, and strange’ (p. 254),
and this circling is taking place in ‘Money’. He views the nickel from every angle –
physical, symbolic, and metaphorical, and once the poem is fully unpicked the judgement
sewn into the seams becomes visible. William van O’Connor asserts that ‘poets […]
always have held to symbols as a characteristic and highly significant level of imaginative

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thought’, but indeed what is explored in ‘Money’ is the idea that in order to make the so-
called ‘symbols’ on the nickel work, the level of imaginative thought needed would be
untenable.7 The poem, like the nickel, can be taken at face value, read as simply
describing a coin, but it is more complex than that, and the imaginative thought
necessary to discover the complexities is entirely sustainable. Helen Vendler observes the
almost palindromic nature of Nemerov’s poetry, noting that ‘hopeless hope is the most
attractive quality of his poems, which slowly turn obverse to reverse, seeing the
permanence of change, the vices of virtue, the evanescence of solidarities, and the errors
of truth’.8 This is exactly what is happening in ‘Money’ – like the flipping coin,
perspective turns over. The tight simplicity of the vocabulary, the ‘matter of fact’ (26)
voice, and the lack of figurative language are both what make the poem so closely focused
and what allows a surprisingly large amount of room for interpretation. ‘Money’ may not
be about money, and it may not even be about symbolism, but one thing is certain: after
reading it, I certainly know an awful lot more about a 1936 American nickel.
7 William van O’Connor, ‘Symbolism and the Study of Poetry’, College English, 7 (1946), 374-379 (p. 379).
8 Helen Vendler, Part of Nature, Part of Us: Modern American Poets (Cambridge, Mass; London: Harvard
University Press, 1980), p. 177.

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Bibliography of Works Cited
Dembo, L. S., ‘Review of The Shield of Perseus: The Vision and Imagination of Howard Nemerov’,
American Literature, 4 (1974), 625-626
Marx, Karl, ‘Capital’ in Literary Theory: An Anthology, Revised Edition, ed. by Julie Rivkin and
Michael Ryan (Blackwell: Oxford, 1998), pp. 268-276
Meinke, Peter, ‘Howard Nemerov’ in Seven American Poets from, MacLeish to Nemerov: An
Introduction, ed. by Denis Donoghue (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
1963), pp. 250-284
Nemerov, Howard, ‘Money’ in The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry, ed. by J. D.
McClatchy (New York: Vintage, 1990), pp. 126-127
Nemerov,, Howard, ‘On the Measure of Poetry’, Critical Enquiry, 2 (1979), 331-341
Shapiro, Alan, ‘The New Formalism’, Critical Enquiry, 1 (1987), 200-213
Van O’Connor, William‘Symbolism and the Study of Poetry’, College English, 7 (1946),
374-379
Vendler, Helen, Part of Nature, Part of Us: Modern American Poets (Cambridge, Mass; London:
Harvard University Press, 1980)