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Thread: A poem a day

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    Tides
    BY HELEN HUNT JACKSON
    O patient shore, that canst not go to meet
    Thy love, the restless sea, how comfortest
    Thou all thy loneliness? Art thou at rest,
    When, loosing his strong arms from round thy feet,
    He turns away? Know’st thou, however sweet
    That other shore may be, that to thy breast
    He must return? And when in sterner test
    He folds thee to a heart which does not beat,
    Wraps thee in ice, and gives no smile, no kiss,
    To break long wintry days, still dost thou miss
    Naught from thy trust? Still, wait, unfaltering,
    The higher, warmer waves which leap in spring?
    O sweet, wise shore, to be so satisfied!
    O heart, learn from the shore! Love has a tide!


    **********************************


    Opportunity

    BY HELEN HUNT JACKSON
    I do not know if, climbing some steep hill,
    Through fragrant wooded pass, this glimpse I bought,
    Or whether in some mid-day I was caught
    To upper air, where visions of God’s will
    In pictures to our quickened sense fulfil
    His word. But this I saw.
    A path I sought
    Through wall of rock. No human fingers wrought
    The golden gates which opened sudden, still,
    And wide. My fear was hushed by my delight.
    Surpassing fair the lands; my path lay plain;
    Alas, so spell-bound, feasting on the sight,
    I paused, that I but reached the threshold bright,
    When, swinging swift, the golden gates again
    Were rocky wall, by which I wept in vain.

    Source: She Wields a Pen: American Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century (University of Iowa Press, 1997)

    *************************************

    Poppies on the Wheat
    BY HELEN HUNT JACKSON
    Along Ancona’s hills the shimmering heat,
    A tropic tide of air with ebb and flow
    Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow
    Like flashing seas of green, which toss and beat
    Around the vines. The poppies lithe and fleet
    Seem running, fiery torchmen, to and fro
    To mark the shore.
    The farmer does not know
    That they are there. He walks with heavy feet,
    Counting the bread and wine by autumn’s gain,
    But I,—I smile to think that days remain
    Perhaps to me in which, though bread be sweet
    No more, and red wine warm my blood in vain,
    I shall be glad remembering how the fleet,
    Lithe poppies ran like torchmen with the wheat.

    Source: The Longman Anthology of Poetry (Pearson, 2006)


    ***********************************************

    Helen Hunt Jackson
    1830–1885

    Black and white portrait of Helen Hunt Jackson sitting, hands clasped.
    Online Archive of California
    Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, to academic Calvinist parents, poet, author, and Native American rights activist Helen Hunt Jackson (born Helen Maria Fiske) was orphaned as a child and raised by her aunt. Jackson was sent to private schools and formed a lasting childhood friendship with Emily Dickinson. At the age of 21, Jackson married Lieutenant Edward Bissell Hunt and together they had two sons. Jackson began writing poetry only after the early deaths of her husband and both sons.

    Jackson published five collections of poetry, including Verses (1870) and Easter Bells (1884), as well as children’s literature and travel books, often using the pseudonyms “H.H.,” “Rip van Winkle,” or “Saxe Holm.” Frequently in poor health, she moved to Colorado on her physician’s recommendation and married William Sharpless Jackson there in 1875.

    Moved by an 1879 speech given by Chief Standing Bear, Jackson wrote A Century of Dishonor (1881), an exposé of the rampant crimes against Native Americans, which led to the founding of the Indian Rights Association. In 1884 she published Ramona, a fictionalized account of the plight of Southern California’s dispossessed Mission Indians, inspired by Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

    Jackson was inducted into the Colorado Women’s Hall of Fame in 1985.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Peking Dust, a poem by Wade Oliver, 1934

    A short poem published in 1934….




    Peking Dust


    Of camphor wood and carved jade

    The shy wings of this song are made.

    *

    Over the grey walls of Peking

    They swoop and dart and soar and sing,

    *

    Leaving behind the dusty fret

    Of hands that toil, and hearts that sweat

    *

    Their crimson drops of living blood

    To carve from lifeless stone and wood

    The lean flesh of their livelihood.

    *

    Wade Oliver

    Though published in American newspapers in 1934 the poem’s origins may be earlier as, from what I can glean online, Oliver was at his most prolific in the 1920s and early 1930s. Poetry Quarterly magazine described Oliver as an ‘authentic’ whose work had a ‘high level of lyricism and imagery’.

    I’m not sure if Oliver ever wrote another poem about China but he was seemingly favoured as a contributor to Harriet Monroe’s journal Poetry. Monroe’s interest in China combined with her professional relationships with Amy Lowell and Ezra Pound on Chinese poetry have been well documented and noted before on this blog via the work of various academics including Anne Witchard of Westminster University.

    ****************

    A truly magnificent poet. Poems that truly stir the soul..-Tyr


    *******************




    Poetry Explorer
    HOME ABOUT CONTEMPORARY POETS SUBJECT DISCOVERY TOP POETS CONTACT

    BY AN INDIAN GRAVE, by MILDRED PLEW MEIGS MERRYMAN

    First Line: Sleep on, dead seminole - your bones are chalk
    Last Line: And we two dream together, seminole.
    Alternate Author Name(s): Meigs, Mildred Plew
    Subject(s): Death; Dreams; Native Americans; Dead, The; Nightmares; Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America


    BY AN INDIAN GRAVE
    , by MILDRED PLEW MEIGS MERRYMAN


    Sleep on, dead Seminole -- your bones are chalk;
    The red urn cracks beneath its heaping shell;
    This is your spring to slumber, mine to walk
    And hear the slow surf booming like a bell.
    My spring to hear the limpid quail-song lift
    Where jasmine and magnolia cup their cream,
    And wind and sun forever shade and shift
    Over the shrunken hearts of them that dream.
    Your spring to sleep where shore pines, blunted, bleak,
    Rock darkly on the night like dim sunk spars;
    My own to wait beside the moon-torn creek
    And watch the quiet crumbling of old stars.
    Then pouf! -- one dusk a moon shall rise and roll,
    And we two dream together, Seminole.


    Another truly magnificent poet!-- Tyr
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 03-12-2021 at 06:24 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    About
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    Nobel Prize Poets » Romain Rolland
    Romain Rolland
    Romain Rolland Romain Rolland (29 January 1866 – 30 December 1944) was a French writer, art historian and mystic who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1915.
    “Every man who is truly a man must learn to be alone in the midst of all others, and if need be against all others.”

    – Romain Rolland

    Romain Rolland Bio
    Romain Rolland the great French savant, novelist, dramatist, essayist, and mystic—Romain Rolland (1866 – 1944) was awarded Nobel Prize for Literature in 1915.

    He was born in Clamecy, Nièvre, France. His family was of mixed stock including both wealthy townspeople and poorer labourers.

    Romain Rolland went to University in 1886 where he studied philosophy, however he didn’t enjoy the rigid nature of the philosophy syllabus and so left before he had finished his course. Instead he received a degree in history. After university he spent a couple of years in Italy, greatly admiring Italian art and the great masterpieces.

    On returning to France he took up a posts teaching at various university’s including the Sorbonne. However his heart was never in teaching, he preferred to be a writer. Therefore he quit his teaching post to dedicate his time to writing.

    Rolland was my nature introverted he didn’t make close friendships but absorbed himself in his writing. During the German occupation of France from 1940 he led a life of isolation and was very much a loner.

    “The sages, who discovered the law of non-violence in the midst of violence, were greater geniuses than Newton, greater warriors than Wellington. Non-violence is the law of our species as violence is the law of the brute.”

    – Romain Rolland

    Romain Rolland was a lifelong pacifist. He was a great admirer of Gandhi and in 1924 wrote a book on Gandhi. This book was important for both himself and for Gandhi’s reputation in Europe. The two men were able to meet in 1931. Throughout his life Romain Rolland retained a keen interest in India and Indian spirituality.

    If there is one place on the face of the earth where all the dreams of living men have found a home from the very earliest days when man began the dream of existence, it is India. … For more than 30 centuries, the tree of vision, with all its thousand branches and their millions of twigs, has sprung from this torrid land, the burning womb of the Gods. It renews itself tirelessly showing no signs of decay.

    – Romain Rolland, Life of Ramakrishna (1929)

    He also wrote a biography of the great Hindu Saint Sri Ramakrishna. Romain Rolland was also a keen admirer of Sri Aurobindo a leading Indian nationalist and later a teacher of Yoga.

    Romain Rolland died on Dec 30,1944 in Vezelay.

    -Richard

    Links:
    Romain Rolland Quotes
    Nobel Prize for Literature

    *************************
    *************************


    A Collection of Poems
    A diverse collection of poems I like.

    HomeIndex of PoemsPoetry World Map

    Venice masks
    Sunday, 10 November 2019
    Credo - Romain Rolland and Edmond Bordeaux Szekely
    We believe that our most precious possession is Life.
    We believe we shall mobilize all the forces of Life against the forces of death.
    We believe that mutual understanding leads toward mutual cooperation:
    that mutual cooperation leads toward Peace;
    and that Peace is the only way of survival for mankind.
    We believe that we shall preserve instead of waste our natural resources,
    which are the heritage of our children.
    We believe that we shall avoid pollution of our air, water, and soil,
    the basic preconditions of life.
    We believe we shall preserve the vegetation of our planet:
    the humble grass which came fifty million years ago,
    and the majestic trees which came twenty million years ago,
    to prepare our planet for mankind.
    We believe we shall eat only fresh, natural, pure, whole foods,
    without chemicals and artificial processing.
    We believe we shall live a simple, natural, creative life,
    absorbing all the sources of energy, harmony and knowledge, in and around us.
    We believe that the improvement of life and mankind on our planet
    must start with individual efforts, as the whole depends on the atoms composing it.
    We believe in
    the Fatherhood of God,
    the Motherhood of Nature,
    and the Brotherhood of Man.
    Romain Rolland (1866 - 1944), France and Edmond Bordeaux Szekely (1905 - 1979) Hungary
    Source: The Gospel of Love and Peace: Essene, Books 1-4, edited by Jörg Berchem, Books on Demand, 2016
    Credo of the International Biogenic Society
    Posted by Bruce-the-Sheep at 14:20


    ************************************************** **

    We Are The Ones Destroying Without A Prudent Thought

    Nature delivers but mankind seeks to destroy
    that which the majestic bounty of earth provides
    man is taught to take anything to then employ
    in order to always be on the winning side
    yet truth is there are costs to any sacrifice
    mortals weak and so blinded simply fail to see
    in the end we as a group shall pay that high price
    for that black darkness born into both you and me.

    R.J. Lindley, 2-17- 1980
    Rhyme,-- (Waking Up To Finally A Darken Truth See)
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London
    Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953



    Never until the mankind making
    Bird beast and flower
    Fathering and all humbling darkness
    Tells with silence the last light breaking
    And the still hour
    Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

    And I must enter again the round
    Zion of the water bead
    And the synagogue of the ear of corn
    Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
    Or sow my salt seed
    In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

    The majesty and burning of the child's death.
    I shall not murder
    The mankind of her going with a grave truth
    Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
    With any further
    Elegy of innocence and youth.

    Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter,
    Robed in the long friends,
    The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
    Secret by the unmourning water
    Of the riding Thames.
    After the first death, there is no other.
    ****************

    Dylan Thomas , a poet's poet! Recognized for the true greatness in him and his work.--Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Three great poems by -- Harriet Monroe



    The Blue Ridge

    STILL and calm,
    In purple robes of kings,
    The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world.
    The forests cover them like mantles;
    Day and night
    Rise and fall over them like the wash of waves.

    Asleep, they reign.
    Silent, they say all.
    Hush me, O slumbering mountains —
    Send me dreams.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes


    *********

    With A Copy Of Shelley


    BEHOLD, I send thee to the heights of song,
    My brother! Let thine eyes awake as clear
    As morning dew, within whose glowing sphere
    Is mirrored half a world; and listen long,
    Till in thine ears, famished to keenness, throng
    The bugles of the soul, till far and near
    Silence grows populous, and wind and mere
    Are phantom-choked with voices. Then be strong—
    Then halt not till thou seest the beacons flare
    Souls mad for truth have lit from peak to peak.
    Haste on to breathe the intoxicating air—
    Wine to the brave and poison to the weak—
    Far in the blue where angels' feet have trod,
    Where earth is one with heaven and man with God.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

    *********

    Rubens
    Here you are, grand old sensualist!
    And here are the three goddesses
    displaying their charms to Paris.
    It was all one to you &mdash goddesses, saints, court ladies &mdash
    Your world was all curves of flesh
    rolling curves repeated like a shell.
    Mary Magdalen was almost as good copy as Venus,
    Angels might be voluptuous as nymphs.

    It was a rich old gorgeous world you painted &mdash
    For kinds or prelates, what mattered! &mdash palace or church!
    You had a wonderful, glorious time! &mdash
    And no doubt the ladies loved you.


    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    A Recollection
    --- by John Peale Bishop



    Famously she descended, her red hair
    Unbound and bronzed by sea-reflections, caught
    Crinkled with sea-pearls. The fine slender taut
    Knees that let down her feet upon the air,

    Young breasts, slim flanks and golden quarries were
    Odder than when the young distraught
    Unknown Venetian, painting her portrait, thought
    He'd not imagined what he painted there.

    And I too commerced with that golden cloud:
    Lipped her delicious hands and had my ease
    Faring fantastically, perversely proud.

    All loveliness demands our courtesies.
    Since she was dead I praised her as I could
    Silently, among the Barberini bees.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes


    *********

    The Return
    -- by John Peale Bishop


    NIGHT and we heard heavy cadenced hoofbeats
    Of troops departing; the last cohorts left
    By the North Gate. That night some listened late
    Leaning their eyelids toward Septentrion.

    Morning blared and the young tore down the trophies
    And warring ornaments: arches were strong
    And in the sun but stone; no longer conquest
    Circled our columns; all our state was down

    In fragments. In the dust, old men with tufted
    Eyebrows whiter than sunbaked faces gulped
    As it fell. But they no more than we remembered
    The old sea-fights, the soldiers' names and sculptors'.

    We did not know the end was coming: nor why
    It came; only that long before the end
    Were many wanted to die. Then vultures starved
    And sailed more slowly in the sky.

    We still had taxes. Salt was high. The soldiers
    Gone. Now there was much drinking and lewd
    Houses all night loud with riot. But only
    For a time. Soon the taverns had no roofs.

    Strangely it was the young, the almost boys,
    Who first abandoned hope; the old still lived
    A little, at last a little lived in eyes.
    It was the young whose child did not survive.

    Some slept beneath the simulacra, until
    The gods' faces froze. Then was fear.
    Some had response in dreams, but morning restored
    Interrogation. Then O then, O ruins!

    Temples of Neptune invaded by the sea
    And dolphins streaked like streams sportive
    As sunlight rode and over the rushing floors
    The sea unfurled and what was blue raced silver.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

    **********

    Fiametta
    -- by John Peale Bishop



    FIAMETTA walks under the quincebuds
    In a gown the color of flowers;
    Her small breasts shine through the silken stuff
    Like raindrops after showers.
    The green hem of her dress is silk, but duller
    Than her eye's green color.

    Her shadow restores the grass's green
    Where the sun had gilded it;
    The air has given her copper hair
    The sanguine that was requisite.
    Whatever her flaws, my lady
    Has no fault in her young body.

    She leans with her long slender arms
    To pull down morning upon her
    Fragrance of quince, white light and falling cloud.
    The day shall have lacked due honor
    Until I shall have rightly praised
    Her standing thus with slight arms upraised.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes


    ***

    John Peale Bishop
    1892-1944


    John Peale Bishop, born May 21, 1892, in Charles Town, West Virginia: poet, novelist, and critic, a member of the lost generation and a close associate of the American expatriate writers in Paris in the 1920s. At Princeton University, from which he graduated in 1917, Bishop formed a lifelong friendship with the novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald, who depicted Bishop as the highbrow writer Tom D'Invilliers in This Side of Paradise. Bishop published his first volume of verse, Green Fruit, in 1917. During the war, he served with the 84th Division, and served in the Ardonne. After the war he was an editor at Vanity Fair magazine in New York City from 1920 to 1922. He married into wealth and travelled throughout Europe. From 1926 to 1933, he lived in France and acquired a deep admiration for French culture. His collection of stories about his native South, Many Thousands Gone (1931), was followed with a volume of poetry, Now with His Love (1933). Act of Darkness, a novel tracing the coming of age of a young man, and Minute Particulars, a collection of verse, both appeared in 1935. He became chief poetry reviewer for The Nation magazine in 1940. That year he published perhaps his finest poem, "The Hours," an elegy on the death of F. Scott Fitzgerald.


    ****************

    A great poet, I agree that his finest poem was, an elegy on the death of F. Scott Fitzgerald , titled "The Hours".
    But he had many other great poems...--Tyr
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 01-15-2022 at 03:40 PM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Coal
    ___ BY AUDRE LORDE


    I
    Is the total black, being spoken
    From the earth's inside.
    There are many kinds of open.
    How a diamond comes into a knot of flame
    How a sound comes into a word, coloured
    By who pays what for speaking.

    Some words are open
    Like a diamond on glass windows
    Singing out within the crash of passing sun
    Then there are words like stapled wagers
    In a perforated book—buy and sign and tear apart—
    And come whatever wills all chances
    The stub remains
    An ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.
    Some words live in my throat
    Breeding like adders. Others know sun
    Seeking like gypsies over my tongue
    To explode through my lips
    Like young sparrows bursting from shell.
    Some words
    Bedevil me.

    Love is a word another kind of open—
    As a diamond comes into a knot of flame
    I am black because I come from the earth's inside
    Take my word for jewel in your open light.



    Audre Lorde, “Coal” from The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde. Copyright © 1997 by Audre Lorde. Reprinted with the permission of Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency and W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., www.nortonpoets.com.
    Source: The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 1997)
    **************


    Waking To New Dawn, Its Deafening Roar Of Silence

    Then there are words that we fear to ever openly say
    Like how our past view of life-this evil world, sets our paths askew
    Like icicles crashing down into a bottomless gray
    And those things we fear to face because they are new-
    A move from peace and comfort into a faraway place
    Or valleys, one so rightly would fear to ever tread
    And death's unwelcomed blow with its monstrously wicked face
    Or perhaps even greater, when we face - lonely silence instead.

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-16-2022
    ( Facing The Infinite Depths Of The Void )
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot View Post
    **************


    Waking To New Dawn, Its Deafening Roar Of Silence

    Then there are words that we fear to ever openly say
    Like how our past view of life-this evil world, sets our paths askew
    Like icicles crashing down into a bottomless gray
    And those things we fear to face because they are new-
    A move from peace and comfort into a faraway place
    Or valleys, one so rightly would fear to ever tread
    And death's unwelcomed blow with its monstrously wicked face
    Or perhaps even greater, when we face - lonely silence instead.

    Robert J. Lindley, 3-16-2022
    ( Facing The Infinite Depths Of The Void )
    It's good to hear you again Robert.
    If the freedom of speech is taken away
    then dumb and silent we may be led,
    like sheep to the slaughter.


    George Washington (1732-1799) First President of the USA.

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    Oak In Autumn
    -- Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney

    Old oak! old oak! the chosen one,
    Round whkh my poet's mesh I twine,
    When rosy wakes the joyous sun,
    Or, wearied, sinks at day's decline,
    I see the frost-king here and there,
    Claim some brown leaflet for his own,
    Or point in cold derision where
    He soon shall rear the usurper's throne.
    Too soon! too soon! in crimson bright,
    Vain mockery of thy woe, he'll flout,
    And proudly climb thy topmost height,
    To hang his flaunting signal out;
    While thou, as round thine honours fall,
    Shalt stand with seam'd and naked bark,
    Like banner-staff, so lone and tall,
    His ruthless victory to mark.
    1, too, old friend, when thou art gone,
    Must pensive to my casement go,
    Or 1ike the shuddering Druid, moan
    The withering of his mistletoe;
    But when young Spring, with matin clear,
    Awakes the bird, the stream, the tree,
    Fain would I at her call appear,
    And hang my slender wreath on thee.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

    ******************


    Indian Names
    -- BY LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY
    ‘How can the red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and territories, bays, lakes, and rivers, are indelibly stamped by names of their giving?’
    Ye say they all have passed away,
    That noble race and brave,
    That their light canoes have vanished
    From off the crested wave;
    That ’mid the forests where they roamed
    There rings no hunter shout,
    But their name is on your waters,
    Ye may not wash it out.

    ’Tis where Ontario’s billow
    Like Ocean’s surge is curled,
    Where strong Niagara’s thunders wake
    The echo of the world.
    Where red Missouri bringeth
    Rich tribute from the west,
    And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps
    On green Virginia’s breast.

    Ye say their cone-like cabins,
    That clustered o’er the vale,
    Have fled away like withered leaves
    Before the autumn gale,
    But their memory liveth on your hills,
    Their baptism on your shore,
    Your everlasting rivers speak
    Their dialect of yore.

    Old Massachusetts wears it,
    Within her lordly crown,
    And broad Ohio bears it,
    Amid his young renown;
    Connecticut hath wreathed it
    Where her quiet foliage waves,
    And bold Kentucky breathed it hoarse
    Through all her ancient caves.

    Wachuset hides its lingering voice
    Within his rocky heart,
    And Alleghany graves its tone
    Throughout his lofty chart;
    Monadnock on his forehead hoar
    Doth seal the sacred trust,
    Your mountains build their monument,
    Though ye destroy their dust.

    Ye call these red-browned brethren
    The insects of an hour,
    Crushed like the noteless worm amid
    The regions of their power;
    Ye drive them from their father’s lands,
    Ye break of faith the seal,
    But can ye from the court of Heaven
    Exclude their last appeal?

    Ye see their unresisting tribes,
    With toilsome step and slow,
    On through the trackless desert pass
    A caravan of woe;
    Think ye the Eternal’s ear is deaf?
    His sleepless vision dim?
    Think ye the soul’s blood may not cry
    From that far land to him?

    Source: She Wields a Pen: American Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century (University of Iowa Press, 1997)
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 04-18-2022 at 05:40 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  14. #745
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    LITERATURE
    A Short Analysis of Emily Dickinson’s ‘I started Early – Took my Dog’

    By Dr Oliver Tearle



    ‘I started Early – Took my Dog’ is one of those Emily Dickinson poems that repay careful consideration of not only its literal meaning but the symbolic, other meaning which its images and double meanings appear to gesture towards. The poem requires a bit of close analysis to tease out this other interpretation, however, so here goes…


    I started Early – Took my Dog –
    And visited the Sea –
    The Mermaids in the Basement
    Came out to look at me –


    And Frigates – in the Upper Floor
    Extended Hempen Hands –
    Presuming Me to be a Mouse –
    Aground – upon the Sands –

    But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
    Went past my simple Shoe –
    And past my Apron – and my Belt
    And past my Bodice – too –


    And made as He would eat me up –
    As wholly as a Dew
    Upon a Dandelion’s Sleeve –
    And then – I started – too –

    And He – He followed – close behind –
    I felt His Silver Heel
    Upon my Ankle – Then My Shoes
    Would overflow with Pearl –


    Until We met the Solid Town –
    No One He seemed to know –
    And bowing – with a Mighty look –
    At me – The Sea withdrew –



    When is the sea not the sea? When it’s a symbol for sex, of course! Is this what we get here with ‘I started Early – Took my Dog’? The poem begins with words which could almost be a banally literal description of the poem itself: ‘I started’. So the poem starts. There follows an account of this morning stroll (‘I started Early’) which the poem’s speaker undertook along the beach, until – having presumably waded some way into the water – the tide rises, engulfing more and more of the speaker’s body, until it’s above her waist. She then retreats to the town.


    But this might make for a rather unremarkable poem if it weren’t for the symbolic richness of this oceanic encounter. And the poem can be analysed on several levels, the most intriguing of which, perhaps, is that Dickinson is using the sea as a metaphor for the (female) speaker’s sexual awakening. We have already seen this foreshadowed in the phantasmagorical reference to the mermaids, which came out from the basement (the sea’s bed, or the subconscious?) to look at the speaker, suggesting that stage of one’s own sexual maturation when the sexual object is simultaneously other (the mermaids as female symbols of sexuality) and internalised (these mermaids have come to look at the speaker in all her glory).


    The juxtaposition of ‘Man’ and ‘Tide’ in the third stanza hint at the poem’s symbolic meaning, inviting us to analyse the sea as a force which – as in a poem by another female American poet, ‘Oread’ by H. D. – is male, overpowering, literally smothering the female speaker as it engulfs her very body:

    But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
    Went past my simple Shoe –
    And past my Apron – and my Belt
    And past my Bodice – too –

    This creeping possession of the female speaker’s body implies a sexual possession, but also a sexual awakening, as though Dickinson’s speaker is beginning to come to terms with adulthood, with the development of herself as a sexual being:

    And made as He would eat me up –
    As wholly as a Dew
    Upon a Dandelion’s Sleeve –
    And then – I started – too –

    ‘I started’, of course, takes us back to the first two words of the poem. ‘I started Early’: an early developer? Has puberty arrived while the speaker is still a young girl? The end of the poem, where the ‘Solid Town’ forces the sea to back off, invites us to consider the clash, so pronounced in nineteenth-century conservative New England, between the social expectations and mores for young women (embodied by the town as a symbol for civilisation and society) and the boundless freedom and energy of the individual (encoded in the sea). It’s as if the speaker, having come to terms with her own sexuality, has retreated to the safety of society with its norms and rules.

    Discover more of Dickinson’s poetry with ‘Because I could not stop for Death‘, ‘My Life had stood – a loaded Gun‘, ‘This World is not Conclusion‘, and ‘My Life closed twice before its Close‘. We’d also recommend her wonderful Complete Poems.

    The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    A Poison Tree
    BY WILLIAM BLAKE


    I was angry with my friend;
    I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
    I was angry with my foe:
    I told it not, my wrath did grow.

    And I waterd it in fears,
    Night & morning with my tears:
    And I sunned it with smiles,
    And with soft deceitful wiles.

    And it grew both day and night.
    Till it bore an apple bright.
    And my foe beheld it shine,
    And he knew that it was mine.

    And into my garden stole,
    When the night had veild the pole;
    In the morning glad I see;
    My foe outstretched beneath the tree.[/B][/SIZE]

    ****

    Auguries of Innocence
    BY WILLIAM BLAKE


    To see a World in a Grain of Sand
    And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
    Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
    And Eternity in an hour
    A Robin Red breast in a Cage
    Puts all Heaven in a Rage
    A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
    Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
    A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
    Predicts the ruin of the State
    A Horse misusd upon the Road
    Calls to Heaven for Human blood
    Each outcry of the hunted Hare
    A fibre from the Brain does tear
    A Skylark wounded in the wing
    A Cherubim does cease to sing
    The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
    Does the Rising Sun affright
    Every Wolfs & Lions howl
    Raises from Hell a Human Soul
    The wild deer, wandring here & there
    Keeps the Human Soul from Care
    The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
    And yet forgives the Butchers knife
    The Bat that flits at close of Eve
    Has left the Brain that wont Believe
    The Owl that calls upon the Night
    Speaks the Unbelievers fright
    He who shall hurt the little Wren
    Shall never be belovd by Men
    He who the Ox to wrath has movd
    Shall never be by Woman lovd
    The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
    Shall feel the Spiders enmity
    He who torments the Chafers Sprite
    Weaves a Bower in endless Night
    The Catterpiller on the Leaf
    Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
    Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
    For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
    He who shall train the Horse to War
    Shall never pass the Polar Bar
    The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
    Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
    The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
    Poison gets from Slanders tongue
    The poison of the Snake & Newt
    Is the sweat of Envys Foot
    The poison of the Honey Bee
    Is the Artists Jealousy
    The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
    Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
    A Truth thats told with bad intent
    Beats all the Lies you can invent
    It is right it should be so
    Man was made for Joy & Woe
    And when this we rightly know
    Thro the World we safely go
    Joy & Woe are woven fine
    A Clothing for the soul divine
    Under every grief & pine
    Runs a joy with silken twine
    The Babe is more than swadling Bands
    Throughout all these Human Lands
    Tools were made & Born were hands
    Every Farmer Understands
    Every Tear from Every Eye
    Becomes a Babe in Eternity
    This is caught by Females bright
    And returnd to its own delight
    The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
    Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
    The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
    Writes Revenge in realms of Death
    The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
    Does to Rags the Heavens tear
    The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
    Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
    The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
    Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
    One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
    Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
    Or if protected from on high
    Does that whole Nation sell & buy
    He who mocks the Infants Faith
    Shall be mockd in Age & Death
    He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
    The rotting Grave shall neer get out
    He who respects the Infants faith
    Triumphs over Hell & Death
    The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
    Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
    The Questioner who sits so sly
    Shall never know how to Reply
    He who replies to words of Doubt
    Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
    The Strongest Poison ever known
    Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
    Nought can Deform the Human Race
    Like to the Armours iron brace
    When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
    To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
    A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
    Is to Doubt a fit Reply
    The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
    Make Lame Philosophy to smile
    He who Doubts from what he sees
    Will neer Believe do what you Please
    If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
    Theyd immediately Go out
    To be in a Passion you Good may Do
    But no Good if a Passion is in you
    The Whore & Gambler by the State
    Licencd build that Nations Fate
    The Harlots cry from Street to Street
    Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
    The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
    Dance before dead Englands Hearse
    Every Night & every Morn
    Some to Misery are Born
    Every Morn and every Night
    Some are Born to sweet delight
    Some are Born to sweet delight
    Some are Born to Endless Night
    We are led to Believe a Lie
    When we see not Thro the Eye
    Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
    When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
    God Appears & God is Light
    To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
    But does a Human Form Display
    To those who Dwell in Realms of day


    Source: Poets of the English Language (Viking Press, 1950)
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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