I am writing later than usual today, because I accidentally slept in. Or, to put it another way: a week’s worth of waking in the middle of the night finally caught up with me, and I barely made it out the door on time with the children this morning on our respective way to school and work. Whoops! Anyhow, Keats and I are here now, and the first poem I’d like to spend time with is “Ode on a Grecian Urn”.
I have always thought that the true definition of the word ‘ode’ should read as follows: a chance to expound over multiple stanzas on something which normally would not require that much analysis or conversation. Despite my inherent wariness, this particular ode has some lovely language and a very catchy quote:
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty”- that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Well, the part in quotes is catchy. It is a particularly noble sentiment. Considering this now, as opposed to freshman English, I am confronted by the realization that not all truths are beautiful. In fact, many of them are uglier than hagfish. But, Keats was an idealist after all.
I have no such updated realization on the first two lines of the first stanza:
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time
It’s basically a vase we’re talking about here. What on God’s green earth is Keats talking about here? These are words that sort of work together if you don’t think too hard about it. In fact, I’m going to stop thinking about it. It gives me a brain-ache.
Moving directly along.
Next up is a sonnet, a much nicer sort of poem than an ode, in my estimation, if for no other reason than that it is limited in the number of lines the author can present the reader with. "When I have fears that I may cease to be" is a nice sonnet, about being afraid of dying before you achieve all your dreams, hopes and plans and that you will have to leave your beloved too quickly. It is still valid. Thjavascript:void(0)ese are good points. It was a long day at work though and I’m tired. It’s a good sonnet- his best. Read it.
I follow up with “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”, from Endymion (Book 1) . This is a very long poem, at 992 lines. There’s a story there, a long narrative that continues in Endymion. The part which is most worth attention, if you don’t have hours for poetic contemplation, are the first 5 lines:
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
This, to me, embodies the most Romantic ideals, and I love, love, love the language. Beauty is eternal, and I crave that type of sleep: restful and soothing, much as beautiful objects are aesthetically pleasing and soothing to the soul.
In total, Keats’ work holds up well to the test of time. I’m glad I rediscovered it.
Next Poet: 3/52 – W.H. Auden (who I offhand cannot name a single poem created by him)
Showing posts with label Keats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Keats. Show all posts
Friday, January 13, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Poet 2/52 - John Keats Part 2
It is unfortunate that writing love poems and love letters has been replaced by texting, email and Facebook wall posts. Something has been lost, culturally, by this trend. I think we are in too much of a hurry. Today I am in contemplation of the poem “Bright Star” , a gem of a sonnet. The poem and Keats’ romance which Fanny Brawne inspired a 2009 movie called, oddly enough, “Bright Star” . The movie looks worth watching, particularly since it was written and directed by Jane Campion, who has a way with these types of stories.
The first 8 lines of the sonnet describe the eternal purity and aloneness of a bright star, ever there, alone, lovely, eternal and sleepless (since stars don’t really sleep). Keats describes his desire to be like the bright star, except that he prefers not to be alone. The word Eremite in the poem is an interesting classical allusion that should just be considered as a hermit with a more elegant name. Although Keats seems to be addressing a star in this beginning, the final lines show that it is merely a frame of reference for the rest of the poem, that this description is actually of a person, his love.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
Lines 9-14 show his love is no longer far-removed from him, idealized; the characteristics (steadfastness, etc) remain- but she is approachable, his “fair love”. With his line “Awake for ever in a sweet unrest” , Keats demonstrates his mastery of subtlety, which is romantic in and of itself. Who would not want this? Who would not want to be the object of this poem, to be the one snuggling eternally, so revered as this bright star? Who would not want their love to want to embrace life together until death do us part?
This notion he presents that life is not worth bothering with after the “tender-taken breath” has ceased, is moving, not creepy. It reminds me of the stories one hears about husbands and wives who die within months of one another. Loving so deeply that your very vitality depends upon the other’s existence runs contrary to our modern ideals of independence, personal determination and such but yet it remains a vital pillart of our humanity. This kind of love makes one vulnerable. The passion makes the risk acceptable.
Keats’ use of the word “still” four times in five lines is nearly hypnotic. This is another example of the excellent use of multiple meaning words: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/still
still – adjective. Remaining in place or at rest.
still – adverb. In the future as in the past; even; in addition; yet.
still – verb. To calm or appease.
As a mother, I can’t help but draw a comparison to “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak, where Max tells the wild things to “Be still”, using either the adjective or the adverb. Either way works. “Still” is a word which is very much alive. I don’t think I use it well enough, and I want to change that.
If John Keats were alive today, instead of “Bright Star”, I imagine there would be a comment on a picture of his girl: “U r so hott.” Maybe he would be more poetic than that and text her: “Ur eyes are like bright starz ☺ “. Neither has quite the same effect as the poem.
Today is my beloved husband’s birthday. He remains, still, my bright star.
The first 8 lines of the sonnet describe the eternal purity and aloneness of a bright star, ever there, alone, lovely, eternal and sleepless (since stars don’t really sleep). Keats describes his desire to be like the bright star, except that he prefers not to be alone. The word Eremite in the poem is an interesting classical allusion that should just be considered as a hermit with a more elegant name. Although Keats seems to be addressing a star in this beginning, the final lines show that it is merely a frame of reference for the rest of the poem, that this description is actually of a person, his love.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
Lines 9-14 show his love is no longer far-removed from him, idealized; the characteristics (steadfastness, etc) remain- but she is approachable, his “fair love”. With his line “Awake for ever in a sweet unrest” , Keats demonstrates his mastery of subtlety, which is romantic in and of itself. Who would not want this? Who would not want to be the object of this poem, to be the one snuggling eternally, so revered as this bright star? Who would not want their love to want to embrace life together until death do us part?
This notion he presents that life is not worth bothering with after the “tender-taken breath” has ceased, is moving, not creepy. It reminds me of the stories one hears about husbands and wives who die within months of one another. Loving so deeply that your very vitality depends upon the other’s existence runs contrary to our modern ideals of independence, personal determination and such but yet it remains a vital pillart of our humanity. This kind of love makes one vulnerable. The passion makes the risk acceptable.
Keats’ use of the word “still” four times in five lines is nearly hypnotic. This is another example of the excellent use of multiple meaning words: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/still
still – adjective. Remaining in place or at rest.
still – adverb. In the future as in the past; even; in addition; yet.
still – verb. To calm or appease.
As a mother, I can’t help but draw a comparison to “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak, where Max tells the wild things to “Be still”, using either the adjective or the adverb. Either way works. “Still” is a word which is very much alive. I don’t think I use it well enough, and I want to change that.
If John Keats were alive today, instead of “Bright Star”, I imagine there would be a comment on a picture of his girl: “U r so hott.” Maybe he would be more poetic than that and text her: “Ur eyes are like bright starz ☺ “. Neither has quite the same effect as the poem.
Today is my beloved husband’s birthday. He remains, still, my bright star.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Poet 2/52 - John Keats
John Keats, born in 1795, is one of the great English Romantic poets along with his contemporaries Shelley and Lord Byron. He was underrated during his life, but gained widespread recognition after his death in Rome from tuberculosis in 1821 at the tender age of 26. He is now considered to be one of the masters.
"La Belle Dame Sans Merci" , which is loosely translated as “The Beautiful Woman Without Pity” or “The Beautiful Woman Without Mercy” is perhaps Keats’ most famous poem. It is clever but elegant and is even more appealing now as a grown woman than as a teenager, probably because it is both a love song and a warning away from love.
It is a story poem, of sorts. Stanzas 1-3 ask a question; stanzas 4-12 answer it. The question: What’s wrong with you? The simplest answer: Love.
The poem has a clever rhythm to it. The 4th line in each stanza is simply done, particularly when compared to the first 3 lines in the stanza:
“O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.”
The 4th line is nearly stark. The pattern, which is carried through the poem, gives a suggestion of stopping in one’s tracks. It feels vaguely sinister. In the 6-8th stanzas, even during the retelling of the romantic interlude, the words describe the traditional romance, and is nearly sweet. The rhythm however indicates otherwise. This is purposefully done, and contributes to the impression that this romance is not a healthy thing.
In the 10th stanza, this is further reinforced:
“I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
This stanza is particularly clever because while advancing the story of the poem, it can also be read to show the universal nature of love. Everyone- kings, princes and warriors- has been knocked down by love. It is part of the human condition. As the poem concludes, he has escaped the beautiful, pitiless woman (love), but still seeks her, in spite of the damage she has done to him.
This is one reason poetry is so wonderful. It tells stories and underneath the story is a truth about the human condition.
In my next adventure with Keats, more love with “Bright Star”.
"La Belle Dame Sans Merci" , which is loosely translated as “The Beautiful Woman Without Pity” or “The Beautiful Woman Without Mercy” is perhaps Keats’ most famous poem. It is clever but elegant and is even more appealing now as a grown woman than as a teenager, probably because it is both a love song and a warning away from love.
It is a story poem, of sorts. Stanzas 1-3 ask a question; stanzas 4-12 answer it. The question: What’s wrong with you? The simplest answer: Love.
The poem has a clever rhythm to it. The 4th line in each stanza is simply done, particularly when compared to the first 3 lines in the stanza:
“O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.”
The 4th line is nearly stark. The pattern, which is carried through the poem, gives a suggestion of stopping in one’s tracks. It feels vaguely sinister. In the 6-8th stanzas, even during the retelling of the romantic interlude, the words describe the traditional romance, and is nearly sweet. The rhythm however indicates otherwise. This is purposefully done, and contributes to the impression that this romance is not a healthy thing.
In the 10th stanza, this is further reinforced:
“I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
This stanza is particularly clever because while advancing the story of the poem, it can also be read to show the universal nature of love. Everyone- kings, princes and warriors- has been knocked down by love. It is part of the human condition. As the poem concludes, he has escaped the beautiful, pitiless woman (love), but still seeks her, in spite of the damage she has done to him.
This is one reason poetry is so wonderful. It tells stories and underneath the story is a truth about the human condition.
In my next adventure with Keats, more love with “Bright Star”.
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