Poetry

[vinteuil]

.

The world is too much with us ; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers :

Little we see in Nature that is ours ;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon !

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ;

The Winds that will be howling at all hours

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers ;

For this, for everything, we are out of tune ;

It moves us not - Great God ! I’d rather be

A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.




William Wordsworth [1770-1850]

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[vinteuil]

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"To whom thus Adam gratefully replied.
Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path
Thou leadest me; and to the hand of Heaven submit,
However chastening; to the evil turn
My obvious breast; arming to overcome
By suffering, and earn rest from labour won,
If so I may attain. -- So both ascend
In the visions of God. It was a hill,
Of Paradise the highest; from whose top
The hemisphere of earth, in clearest ken,
Stretched out to the amplest reach of prospect lay.
Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round,
Whereon, for different cause, the Tempter set
Our second Adam, in the wilderness;
To show him all Earth's kingdoms, and their glory.
His eye might there command wherever stood
City of old or modern fame, the seat
Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls
Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can,
And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne,
To Paquin of Sinæan kings; and thence
To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul,
Down to the golden Chersonese; or where
The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since
In Hispahan; or where the Russian Ksar
In Mosco; or the Sultan in Bizance,
Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken
The empire of Negus to his utmost port
Ercoco, and the less maritime kings
Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind,
And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm
Of Congo, and Angola farthest south;
Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount
The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus,
Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen;
On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway
The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw
Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume,
And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat
Of Atabalipa; and yet unspoiled
Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons
Call El Dorado... "

'Paradise Lost' Book XI, ll. 370-411

John Milton [1608-1674]

[Padraig]

Great sonnet, v. Brings me back to my sole self of years ago, and the intake of breath at line five from our sensitive teacher. Even so, we all loved it - a prophetic reference to a 21st century Green New Deal? It stayed with me anyway.
What was 'wrong' with your original post that you had to change the punctuation?

[vinteuil]

Great sonnet, v. ...
What was 'wrong' with your original post that you had to change the punctuation?

... being a HIPP type, I like where possible to have the poems in their original form. Having copied and pasted the sonnet from the interweb I compared it with the original printing in "Poems in two volumes" of 1807, and 'corrected' the punctuation to agree with that. Actually Wordsworth was notoriously unsure of his own punctuation, and wd send his stuff to Humphry Davy asking him to put in whatever punctuation he felt right...

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[vinteuil]

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... more Wordsworth from the 1807 volume, also curiously relevant to today, I feel ...



Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour :

England hath need of thee : she is a fen

Of stagnant waters : altar, sword and pen,

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,

Have forfeited their ancient English dower

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ;

Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ;

And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.

Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt apart :

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea ;

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,

So didst thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart

The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

[Joseph K]

Another one of my modest efforts, written just over a year ago:

My fear about the future is our weather
becoming more extreme through climate change –
an urgent challenge we must face together
against a new world president deranged –
if we are to preserve this life on Earth
we must channel exciting new advances
in science, proving humankind’s great worth.
But while money plays the tune everyone dances
to capitalism’s need for endless growth,
the root of all our problems is to squander
our resources for profit – if we’re loath
to stop this our grandchildren will be left to ponder
the consequences of our folly, blending
hubris with greed – our Earth’s not never-ending!

[Padraig]

If this thread were a radio programme, I would suggest, Joseph, that your sonnet would be one to follow Wordsworth's, above - The world is too much with us. I'm sure they would read out all three of our names.

[Joseph K]

If this thread were a radio programme, I would suggest, Joseph, that your sonnet would be one to follow Wordsworth's, above - The world is too much with us. I'm sure they would read out all three of our names.

[johncorrigan]

Another one of my modest efforts, written just over a year ago:

My fear about the future is our weather
becoming more extreme through climate change –
an urgent challenge we must face together
against a new world president deranged –
if we are to preserve this life on Earth
we must channel exciting new advances
in science, proving humankind’s great worth.
But while money plays the tune everyone dances
to capitalism’s need for endless growth,
the root of all our problems is to squander
our resources for profit – if we’re loath
to stop this our grandchildren will be left to ponder
the consequences of our folly, blending
hubris with greed – our Earth’s not never-ending!

Thank you very much, Joseph.

[greenilex]

The issue of the times - you put your finger on it. Thanks.

[Joseph K]

Thank you very much, Joseph.

The issue of the times - you put your finger on it. Thanks.

Thanks.

[Padraig]

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant -
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind -

Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)

[vinteuil]

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Voltaire at Ferney

Perfectly happy now, he looked at his estate.
An exile making watches glanced up as he passed
And went on working; where a hospital was rising fast,
A joiner touched his cap; an agent came to tell
Some of the trees he'd planted were progressing well.
The white alps glittered. It was summer. He was very great.
Far off in Paris where his enemies
Whsipered that he was wicked, in an upright chair
A blind old woman longed for death and letters. He would write,
"Nothing is better than life." But was it? Yes, the fight
Against the false and the unfair
Was always worth it. So was gardening. Civilize.

Cajoling, scolding, screaming, cleverest of them all,
He'd had the other children in a holy war
Against the infamous grown-ups; and, like a child, been sly
And humble, when there was occassion for
The two-faced answer or the plain protective lie,
But, patient like a peasant, waited for their fall.

And never doubted, like D'Alembert, he would win:
Only Pascal was a great enemy, the rest
Were rats already poisoned; there was much, though, to be done,
And only himself to count upon.
Dear Diderot was dull but did his best;
Rousseau, he'd always known, would blubber and give in.

Night fell and made him think of women: Lust
Was one of the great teachers; Pascal was a fool.
How Emilie had loved astronomy and bed;
Pimpette had loved him too, like scandal; he was glad.
He'd done his share of weeping for Jerusalem: As a rule,
It was the pleasure-haters who became unjust.

Yet, like a sentinel, he could not sleep. The night was full of wrong,
Earthquakes and executions: soon he would be dead,
And still all over Europe stood the horrible nurses
Itching to boil their children. Only his verses
Perhaps could stop them: He must go on working: Overhead,
The uncomplaining stars composed their lucid song.

WH Auden [1907-1973]


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[greenilex]

I have been haunting the grounds of the Ferney chateau but have not yet managed to see inside..the gift shop was good, and I managed to stay in V’s secretary’s house in the town.

[ferneyhoughgeliebte]

Caedmon's Hymn

Nū scylun hergan hefaenrīcaes Uard
metudæs maecti end his mōdgidanc
uerc Uuldurfadur, suē hē uundra gihwaes
ēci dryctin ōr āstelidæ
hē ǣrist scōp aelda barnum
heben til hrōfe, hāleg scepen
ða middungeard moncynnæs Uard
eci Dryctin, æfter tīadæ
firum foldu, Frēa allmectig.

Now must we praise the prince ("guardian") of the kingdom of Heaven
The Mighty maker and His mind-paths ("imagination", "design"?)
The work of the Glorious father as each of his wonders
the eternal Lord established from the very beginning
He first shaped for the sons of men
Heaven as a roof Holy Creator
(then)The World the guardian of Mankind
the Eternal Lord (and) afterwards
the Solid ground the almighty lord.