Jul 5, 2009

2nd Virtual Poetry Circle

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And now, for the second edition of the Virtual Poetry Circle:

OK, Here's a poem up for reactions, interaction, and--dare I say it--analysis:

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock's books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don't like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

In honor of the holiday, I chose this poem:

by Sir Walter Scott

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,   
Who never to himself hath said,   
  'This is my own, my native land!'   
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd   
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd 
  From wandering on a foreign strand?   
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;   
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;   
High though his titles, proud his name,   
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,   
The wretch, concentred all in self,   
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,   
And, doubly dying, shall go down   
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung. 
Let me know your thoughts, ideas, feelings, impressions. Let's have a great discussion...pick a line, pick an image, pick a sentence.


Anonymous said...

The first line is so good - it really draws you in, makes you want to see what it's about. As for the entire content, I remember the poem from school but not the political circumstances that inspired it. But it definitely has my interest now in looking it up!

Jeanne said...

I love the lines about his heart burning as he turns his steps homeward. That's how I feel when it's time to go home, no matter how wonderful a vacation has been. When we came home from France recently, we let ourselves talk about what we were yearning for on the 9-hour flight over the Atlantic--a sample from each member of my family includes our cats, our rabbit, iced tea, and an English-language newspaper. But the heart burning is more than that--it's the pride you have in your native land, the joy of your country's own rituals and celebrations. We celebrated La Fete du Pere in Nice, but were eager to get home for the Fourth of July!

Anna said...

I agree about the first line. That got my attention right away. I've never read this one before.

Diary of an Eccentric

Serena said...

I really enjoyed the first line, which is probably what prompted me to consider it for this edition of the poetry circle.

It is so poignant that a man without pride in his nation must be a man without soul. I wonder how that can also be applied to pride in one's humanity...that would be something.

I really love the lines: "as home his footsteps he hat turn'd from wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well;"