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.
Today, its a return to classic poet. John Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn is one of my favorites from the romantic period in poetry.
Ode on a Grecian Urn
by: John Keats
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? what maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
'Beauty is truth, truth beauty'--that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Let me know your thoughts, ideas, feelings, impressions. Let's have a great discussion...pick a line, pick an image, pick a sentence.
I've you missed the other Virtual Poetry Circles, check them out here. It's never too late to join the discussion.
5 comments:
I loved reading Keats when I took that English Romantic Poetry course in college. I wish I could remember what we'd discussed when we read this poem though. I do love the lines:
"More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue."
Not sure exactly what he was getting at but I reminds me of the story of his true love Fannie. What a heartbreaking story! He didn't experience any "happy love" in the end, unfortunately.
--Anna
Diary of an Eccentric
At this time of year, the line about the happy boughs that cannot shed their leaves really speaks to me. I can't get used to living so far north that the trees are bare for six whole months out of each year. Right now, art is the only answer.
I've always loved the lines:
"Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme"
I like the timelessness of this poem and how it seems that Keats would love the capture this love and scene for eternity.
Anna: I never did have a formal class on Keats, but I bet it was a hoot.
Jeanne: wow, that's a long time with bare trees.
Dear Author www.savvyverseandwit.com !
It is a pity, that now I can not express - there is no free time. But I will return - I will necessarily write that I think on this question.
Love this poem. I'm sorry that I can't really remember what I learned about it when I was in school. Favourite lines:
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
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