What fine lines have struck my fancy so much that I them favorite? Certainly, lines from Eliot's Prufrock have staying power. That good metaphysical sonnet from John Donne -- Death Be Not Proud -- dances around in the brain. Yet, perhaps the poem that means the most to me is from the Romantic Period. Wordsworth's Lines Written in Early Spring has resonated since I took a survey course called British Literature II, which started with the Romantic Period and went through the 20th Century.
Lines Written in Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended
notes,
While in a grove I sate
reclined,
In that sweet mood when
pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the
mind.
To her fair works did Nature
link
The human soul that through me
ran;
And much it grieved my heart
to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in
that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its
wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every
flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and
played,
Their thoughts I cannot
measure:—
But the least motion which
they made
It seemed a thrill of
pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out
their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I
can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be
sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of
man?
(Text from Poetry.org)
I will share this poem tomorrow. I hope many people partake in this as I think it is a great way to talk about the creative works which have personal meaning. Happy sharing!
No comments:
Post a Comment