UG - Syllabus Poems
La Belle Dame Sans Merci By John Keats
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lilly on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes—
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried—"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starved lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
John Keats, a renowned English Romantic poet, penned "La Belle Dame sans Merci," a ballad that tells the tale of a medieval knight's encounter with a beautiful, merciless fairy woman in the countryside. The poem ends on a note of chilling horror. Interestingly, Keats wrote this piece just a few months after his brother Tom passed away from tuberculosis, a connection that adds a layer of depth to the poem's exploration of death and horror.
The Slave's Dream by H.W.Longfellow
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed their flight,
O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
The Poems on Slavery by H.W. Longfellow are often described as being "gentle enough for even a Slaveholder to read over breakfast." One such poem, "The Slave's Dream," depicts a series of dreams experienced by a 19th-century slave. The poem's opening stanza vividly portrays the physical toll of the slave's labor in the fields and his subsequent exhaustion leading to slumber. However, this sleep soon gives way to a sequence of vivid visions that reveal the deep-seated longings of his waking life.
The Fly by William Blake
Little fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
In Blake's printing of the poem, the text is set amidst a backdrop of trees, featuring a nurse and a toddler in the foreground and a young girl preparing to hit a shuttlecock in the background. As G.S. Morris has noted, the lines "Till some blind hand / Shall brush my wing" seem to follow the flight of the shuttlecock into the little girl's racket.
The poem captures the narrator in a moment of thoughtlessness that prompts contemplation of their actions and their consequences. The fly's struggle with uncontrollable circumstances serves as a humbling analogy for the narrator's own struggles. This realization leads the narrator to move from thoughtlessness to thought, and ultimately from death to life, as "thought is life." The conclusion, "Then am I / A happy fly / If I live, / Or if I die," underscores the importance of this transformation, with Paul Miner adding that "brain-death is real death."
I love all beauteous things,
I seek and adore them;
God hath no better praise,
And man in his hasty days
Is honoured for them.
I too will something make
And joy in the making;
Altho’ tomorrow it seem
Like the empty words of a dream
Remembered on waking.
In this brief poem, the poet expresses his adoration for all things beautiful. He takes pleasure in seeking out and admiring the loveliness that surrounds him, and finds joy in giving thanks to God for creating such exquisite wonders. Even in difficult times, the poet believes that finding pleasure in the beauty of the world can uplift the spirit.
The poet also desires to create something beautiful himself, not necessarily for any practical purpose, but simply for the sake of experiencing the joy that comes from crafting something with his own hands. This pursuit of beauty is a source of happiness and inspiration for the poet, and he revels in the act of bringing new beauty into the world.
The Eagle by Lord Tennyson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson was a prominent figure of the Victorian Era, a period characterized by the Romanticism movement in literature. He gained widespread popularity during and after his lifetime, and was considered one of the foremost representatives of Victorian poetry.
Romanticism was a reaction against The Enlightenment, which emphasized rational thought and logic as the driving forces behind human action. Instead, Romanticism placed greater emphasis on emotion, imagination, and individualism, often celebrating the beauty of nature and its role in understanding life. "The Eagle" is a poem that reflects Tennyson's appreciation for nature.
Despite being known for his quiet and polite demeanor, Tennyson was once part of a small group that traveled to the border of Spain to deliver money and messages to Spanish revolutionaries. Although he eventually left the project, he developed a love for the Pyrenees Mountain Range and the nearby valley called the Cauteretz. This area became his favorite place, and it inspired many of his poems, including "The Eagle". The poem depicts an imaginary setting of cliffs by the sea, rather than the mountainside, showcasing Tennyson's use of vivid imagery and transcendental perspectives.
The Soldier by Rupert Brooke
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
"The Soldier" is a sonnet written in the Petrarchan/Italian form, consisting of fourteen lines divided into an octet and a sestet. The rhyme scheme of the octet follows the Shakespearean/Elizabethan form (ABAB CDCD), while the sestet follows the Petrarchan/Italian form (EFG EFG). The volta occurs after the fourth line, where the poem shifts from describing the soldier's death to his accomplishments in winning the First World War in 1914. Written by Rupert Brooke as part of a series of war sonnets, "The Soldier" serves as the finale of the collection.
The poem celebrates the soldier's patriotism and his willingness to sacrifice himself for his country. The soldier declares that his death will be a testament to England's eternal ownership of the small portion of land where he is buried. The poem does not follow the conventional purpose of a Petrarchan/Italian sonnet, as it does not present a problem and a resolution, but instead focuses on the soldier's blissful state. Brooke, who died the year before the poem was published, captures the soldier's sense of duty and love for his country in this powerful sonnet.
She walks in beauty by Lord Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty" is a well-known poem from 1814, written in iambic tetrameter. It is often regarded as one of Byron's most famous works, admired for its lyrical quality. The poem is said to have been inspired by a party that Byron attended in London on June 11, 1814. While there, he met Mrs. Anne Beatrix Wilmot, the wife of his first cousin, Sir Robert Wilmot. Byron was struck by her exceptional beauty and wrote the poem the following morning as a tribute to her.
Interestingly, Mrs. Wilmot may have also been the inspiration for a character in Byron's unfinished epic poem about his personal hero, Goethe. In this unpublished work, Byron gives the character the same description as his cousin and even switches Goethe's gender. This epic poem was considered Byron's magnum opus, though it was never completed.
Virtue by George Herbert
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye;
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie;
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
In his poem "Virtue," George Herbert explores the idea of virtue in a concise and focused manner. He emphasizes the importance of having a virtuous soul, which he characterizes as sweet and enduring, even when nature's pleasures fade away. Herbert suggests that virtue is what preserves the goodness within a person's spirit. The poem contains several contrasts to emphasize this point. Additionally, it features a structured and musical style that is characteristic of the Jacobean era.
The Daffodils by WordsWorth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," also known as "Daffodils," is a beloved lyric poem by William Wordsworth. This piece of Romantic poetry was inspired by a stroll through the woods with his sister Dorothy on April 15, 1802, during which they encountered a long stretch of daffodils. Initially penned in 1804, it was first published in 1807 in Poems, in Two Volumes, and later revised in 1815. Despite being poorly reviewed by Wordsworth's contemporaries, the poem has since become a staple of English Romantic literature and is often anthologised. In a poll conducted by the BBC Radio 4 Bookworm programme in 1995 to determine the nation's favourite poems, "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" was ranked fifth.
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