LABANON LIGHT
04-16-2003, 12:34 PM
A bouquet from Lebanon ,the loving and gift country, to all members of this elevated club which fills with plenty of the literary culture. i want to introduce myself .my name is lebanon light .iam a student in the university in the english literature department. i want to excuse my language which i work hard to improve it.
i want help to understand the music in this poem which my doctor told us to find the alliteration,assonance,rime, masculine,feminine and refrain. unfortunatelly :( i understand some of them and i can not take out this music. if you do not mind helping me to take it out. this is the poem:
god`s grandeur
the world is charged with the grandeur of god.
it will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
it gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
crushed.why do men then now not reck his rod?
generations have trod, have trod;
and all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
and wears man`s smudge and shares man`s smell: the soil
is bare now, nor can foot feel , being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
there lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West want
oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward,springs-
because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah!bright wings.
Gerard Manley Hopkins(1844-1889).
please i want it in the sunday.
i want help to understand the music in this poem which my doctor told us to find the alliteration,assonance,rime, masculine,feminine and refrain. unfortunatelly :( i understand some of them and i can not take out this music. if you do not mind helping me to take it out. this is the poem:
god`s grandeur
the world is charged with the grandeur of god.
it will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
it gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
crushed.why do men then now not reck his rod?
generations have trod, have trod;
and all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
and wears man`s smudge and shares man`s smell: the soil
is bare now, nor can foot feel , being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
there lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West want
oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward,springs-
because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah!bright wings.
Gerard Manley Hopkins(1844-1889).
please i want it in the sunday.