Poetry

[Ein Heldenleben]

... and there is a marked deterioration in his work after c. 1805.

.

Yes it’s one of the most marked declines in literary history...

[vinteuil]

.
Dover Beach

[1849-1851]

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night

Matthew Arnold [1822-1888]

[Padraig]

One of my first favourites, v, and still tickles my melancholy rib.

Here is one for the celebrations:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated - dying -
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonised and clear!

Emily Dickibson 1859

[ferneyhoughgeliebte]

In the dark times
Will there be singing?
Yes - there will also be singing
About the dark times.

Bertholt Brecht

[Padraig]

For the sake of variety here is a piece about a poem - a Medieval Irish poem - with a flavour of the poet's craft. There are a couple of stanzas in Medieval Irish, with translation. (I am reminded of Heaney's The Yellow Bittern, in the metre and rhythm of the reading). The poem chosen by the presenter is a love poem, a rather lovely one for St.Valentine's Day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7aFv-TBd0k

[Padraig]

This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond -
Invisible, as Music -
But positive, as Sound -
It beckons, and it baffles -
Philosophy - don't know -
And through a Riddle, at the last -
Sagacity, must go -
To guess it, puzzles scholars -
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown -
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies -
Blushes, if any see -
Plucks at a twig of Evidence -
And asks a Vane, the way -
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit -
Strong Hallelujahs roll -
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul -

Emily Dickinson 1862

[antongould]

This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond -
Invisible, as Music -
But positive, as Sound -
It beckons, and it baffles -
Philosophy - don't know -
And through a Riddle, at the last -
Sagacity, must go -
To guess it, puzzles scholars -
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown -
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies -
Blushes, if any see -
Plucks at a twig of Evidence -
And asks a Vane, the way -
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit -
Strong Hallelujahs roll -
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul -

Emily Dickinson 1862

Wonderful padraig .....

[Bella Kemp]

In youth Wordsworth was a passionate European ( possibly over passionate ) and in old age a profound conservative ..

To be fair he was a supporter of social justice and a passionate supporter of the French Revolution because he thought that this might bring justice. When he saw how it all panned out he sensibly changed his views.

[Padraig]

Wonderful padraig .....

Thanks anton. Join the club. There are another 1700 or so more. Watch this space.

[johncorrigan]

Here is a poem of 1861:


Some - keep the Sabbath - going to church-
I - keep it - staying at Home -
With a Bobolink - for a Chorister -
And an Orchard - for a Dome -

Some - keep the Sabbath, in Surplice -
I - just wear my wings -
And instead of tolling the bell, for church -
Our little Sexton - sings -

"God" - preaches - a noted Clergyman -
And the sermon is never long,
So - instead of getting to Heaven - at last -
I'm - going - all along!

Thanks for the Emily Dickenson poems, padraig. You have encouraged me to seek out more - for me previously, she was someone who existed only in a song of Simon and Garfunkel. Re-reading the one above, I can't help but think that she had the much better idea than the parishioners of this wonderful poem by R.S.Thomas, which, apologies, I may have posted before.


The Island

And God said, I will build a church here
And cause this people to worship me,
And afflict them with poverty and sickness
In return for centuries of hard work
And patience.
And its walls shall be hard as
Their hearts, and its windows let in the light
Grudgingly, as their minds do, and the priest’s words be drowned
By the wind’s caterwauling. All this I will do,
Said God, and watch the bitterness in their eyes
Grow, and their lips suppurate with
Their prayers. And their women shall bring forth
On my altar, and I will choose the best
Of them to be thrown back into the sea.

And that was only on one island.

R.S.Thomas

[antongould]

Thanks for the Emily Dickenson poems, padraig. You have encouraged me to seek out more - for me previously, she was someone who existed only in a song of Simon and Garfunkel. Re-reading the one above, I can't help but think that she had the much better idea than the parishioners of this wonderful poem by R.S.Thomas, which, apologies, I may have posted before.


The Island

And God said, I will build a church here
And cause this people to worship me,
And afflict them with poverty and sickness
In return for centuries of hard work
And patience.
And its walls shall be hard as
Their hearts, and its windows let in the light
Grudgingly, as their minds do, and the priest’s words be drowned
By the wind’s caterwauling. All this I will do,
Said God, and watch the bitterness in their eyes
Grow, and their lips suppurate with
Their prayers. And their women shall bring forth
On my altar, and I will choose the best
Of them to be thrown back into the sea.

And that was only on one island.

R.S.Thomas

Excellent indeed JC ..... yes Emily Dickinson was for me too just a bit player in the Dangling Conversation .... but now we’ve grown up ......

[Padraig]

Excellent indeed JC ..... yes Emily Dickinson was for me too just a bit player in the Dangling Conversation .... but now we’ve grown up ......

A note on The World is not conclusion. Among the twistings and turnings of the history of publication of Emily Dickinson's poems, this poem has its own interesting twist. Written in 1862, it's first public airing was in 1896, ten years after she died, when only the first twelve lines were given. The remaining eight lines had to wait until 1945 when they were separately published. It wasn't until 1955 that the whole poem saw light of day. Emily did not do publication - as we know it.


Publication - is the Auction
Of the Mind of Man -
Poverty - be justifying
For so foul a thing

Possibly - but We - would rather
From Our Garret go
White - unto the White Creator -
Than invest - Our Snow -

Thought belongs to Him who gave it -
Then - to Him who bear
Its Corporeal illustration - sell
The Royal Air -

In the Parcel - Be the Merchant
Of the Heavenly Grace -
But reduce no Human Spirit
To Disgrace of Price -

Emily Dickinson 1863. Published 1929

[Padraig]

...yes Emily Dickinson was for me too just a bit player in the Dangling Conversation .... but now we’ve grown up ......

It took me a while, anton, and maybe never - except that I was playing some Simon and Garfunkel last night.

But, did you mean that now you have promoted Emily in your poetic affections, or, you look back with regret at romantic affections squandered in the past?

[Joseph K]

Wonderful padraig .....

… agreed.

Looking back over poems I've posted here, I notice I hadn't yet posted this one of mine, which I wrote in early autumn 2017:

I always was a patient man, demure
and placid, seldom did I swear at folk,
despite the pain I had to then endure,
I was indeed a self-effacing bloke.
Inured to exploitation, still I forsook
anger and rage as alien emotions.
Although such seething bile I'd have to brook
in others, I'd still not cause any commotions;
til one day I started snarling like a dog
at random strangers - I'd be howling, dressed
only in socks while pogoing down a bog
laughing - doctors said I had regressed
through pent-up ire to some sort of feral mode;
forever more the woods would be my abode.

[antongould]

It took me a while, anton, and maybe never - except that I was playing some Simon and Garfunkel last night.

But, did you mean that now you have promoted Emily in your poetic affections, or, you look back with regret at romantic affections squandered in the past?

Sorry Padraig didn’t see this ....I have, thanks to you, promoted Emily ......