The greatest poem of all time?

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Originally Posted by rintrah

Sorry - things come to me in stages . . . I remember now reading about Keats' notion of negative capability, the concept that the poet has a capacity to exist in a state of un-resolvedness. It's been years since my Keats lectures, but I remember the discussion of this poem as an example of this. There is no clear resolve - there is no attempt to reconcile the notion of the silent urn containing wild ecstasy - also the happy happy love against the notion that the lover cannot ever kiss. This is not really resolved, but held in a state, as it were, of constant stillness. All the sacrifice, the love, the fruit, the barrenness, the pipes and timbrels, the silence, the eternally green boughs, and the parched tongue, all from a vase! These are paradoxes that remain open and active, and I think this willingness to allow such oppositional forces to remain is the basic energy pf the poem.

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Isn't negative capability the ability of the poet to step outside of himself to look at the poem objectively? I can't quite remember.

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Originally Posted by rintrah

BTW, noticed the Byron image, virgil. Did you know he had one of the largest recorded brains, at over four pounds??

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Originally Posted by Schokokeks

:lol: Sadly there's not much scientific proof for the mere size of a brain to correlate with the intelligence of the bearer ;).

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:lol: I believe it. My wife says I have a fat head and she also says I'm not the brightest person. So for my wife to be correct on both accounts, brain size cannot correllate with intelligence. :p ;)

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Originally Posted by Virgil

Isn't negative capability the ability of the poet to step outside of himself to look at the poem objectively? I can't quite remember.

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I had to look it up myself, but here's the quote from Keats, in a personal letter, 1817: 'Negative Capability, that is when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts without any irritable reaching after fact & reason'

So it is a peaceful acceptance of uncertainty. Very needed in order to follow most sports teams, live with a woman, or eat meatloaf.

Dreadnought, I went and read it and was very taken with it. I read it aloud to my wife, and it sent her of into a dreamy state, such is the power of a poet. I come back to this notion of Keats as the man who could probably have been the foremost English poet, but for his untimely death, a man cut off before he really gets going. Needless to say I loved it. You are indeed right about the tangible/ethereal quality.

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Originally Posted by Virgil

:lol: I believe it. My wife says I have a fat head and she also says I'm not the brightest person. So for my wife to be correct on both accounts, brain size cannot correllate with intelligence. :p ;)

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Ha ha! But the extra cells must kick in some where - perhaps not intelligence, but sense of humour, or perhaps 30% more phobias, personality disorders, or more memory capacity? Got to be a reason . . .

Wilde described Shelley as a boy`s poet whilst Keats was a man`s poet. I think I know what he meant and I think he was right.