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Salamanders flourished x billion years ago, which is why they ended up on so much rock. If we carry the analogy over to our sentences, we see media comments, punch lines, spiltover language, all the things that flourish today, making up this paragraph. And, the paragraph is the rock, and now, its a poem. Thanks, Petrarch.Quote:
Originally Posted by Petrarch's Love
So wasn't I on to something at the beginning of this weeks thread?
My dear, you are always on to something, even when I disagree with you. :DQuote:
Originally Posted by ktd222
If it wasn't for your timely interlocutions, I would be listening to my car radio right now, pushing all the wrong buttons.Quote:
Originally Posted by ktd222
TO HOPE BY JOHN KEATS
When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.
Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof.
Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;
When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart:
Chace him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,
And fright him as the morning frightens night!
Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear
Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,
O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!
Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair;
O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed.
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!
In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country's honour fade:
O let me see our land retain her soul,
Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed--
Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!
Let me not see the patriot's high bequest,
Great Liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress'd,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!
And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
Ah, Pensive, you've posted a poem by one of my favorite poets. This isn't one I've spent as much time with as others (probably because it's not in the volume of his selected poems I refer to the most). Do you know by chance if this is one of his earlier poems? It seems less finished than some of his later works. It feels to me as though he's been reading something like Spenser's "Epithalamion" with that repeating final line. I'm not sure why he doesn't maintain it throughout though (it's in all but three of the stanzas). Is there a significance I'm missing about the three stanzas that don't end with," And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head," or might this just be a sign of a beginning poet experimenting? It's got the elements of what makes some of his other poetry so deeply moving--an unwavering faith that there is something in the world worth loving, a refusal to submit to despair, a reason to hope. I hate to say though that he loses me completely when he gets to the patriotic stuff in stanzas six and seven. Keats is best at personal feelings, I inevitably get bored when he starts hitting any kind of political note. Anyway, I'll give this one some more thought and maybe some other people will comment too. Thanks for posting Pensy.:)
I had a difficult time absorbing it until my third peek at it. The 'silver pinions' is with some mood, but then I like how he does that. I'd also like to know what year this was written, so I will research it. Thanks, Pensive.
Jackyyyy (and others who are interested)--The poem is evidently dated February 1815, meaning it is fairly early in his career (early being a relative term in a career that was necessarily limited by death), and one year before the publication of his first poem in the Examiner . It's astounding how much his poetry changed between the time of this poem and his death at age twenty-five.
Keats is also one of my favorite poets. I have never seen this poem before. I did an internet search and found a date (didn't say whether written or published) of February 1815. I think this puts Keats at nineteen years old, certainly one of his early ones. In fact the site numbered the poems and while I don't know the exact logc of the numbering system, it put this at number eight. I would guess that ths is a very early poem. You can tell by how less polished it seems. I've only quickly skimmed it, but I think every single line a end-stopped line (the opposite of enjambent, I forget what that's called). Also the rhythm felt very fixed and overly regular. I believe Keats was heavily infleuenced by Spencer. Many of his stanza structures are either Spencerian or a variation. The stanza structure (ABABCC) here is also simpler than later Keats.Quote:
Originally Posted by Petrarch's Love
edit: I didn't read Perarch's last post (just above) when I wrote this. She had already mentioned the date of the poem.
I love this poem but I am also a little uncomfortable with him repeating the line: "Wave thy silver pinions over my head"
I haven't read many of the Keats poems but those I read, I found them really worth reading.
Just focusing on 'pinion'... outer edge of a wing, flutters the most, pronouncing some angelic/benevolent finger of authourity, a wisdom, a miracle for the enlightenment and relief he is asking for. I wondered what is common about those stanzas that end with this 'pinions' too, and if maybe there are crests and troughs. But, I do not see this yet. Also, 'pinion', as used today, brings up lots of notions - a strong word inferring a guide, cogwheel, a binding of sort. I think 'pinion' had other connotations in Keat's time, not unique to birds/angels. Another remark, its silver, and not white. Because of the repeat, the whole piece feels like a song people might sing in a Church or school.Quote:
Originally Posted by Pensive
I'm finding it interesting in reading this poem to think about what it is exactly that Keats changed in his later poetry to make it so much more affecting. It's funny because he really sounds like a young poet here. It's not quite so hard to imagine that he's a very talented young man who would be about the age of a freshman in college, or a little out of highschool nowadays, while in his later poetry seems so beyond his years (I'm only a year younger than he was when he died, so I guess I'm keenly aware of where most people--even fairly bright and talented people--are at that age). As I said in an earlier post, the basic sentiment in this poem is not dissimilar to some of his later work, but it comes across as being obviously less developed. This might be an opportunity for us to discuss what it is that makes a poem seem "finished." What combination of the technical aspects of a poem, and choice of subject make a poem "great" as opposed to "good"?
As Virgil points out, Keats is using a simpler stanza form here than in other poems, and all the lines are end-stopped. The later Keats uses enjambment beautifully and, like Spenser, is much more conscious of the metrical breaks in the line. Some of the metaphors seem a little heavy handed here too, and as people are pointing out the "silver pinions" repetition comes off a little akwardly. At first I thought this might be because he didn't consistently carry through with it throughout the poem, but I'm not sure if that would have helped either. Earlier, I was starting to compare the repeating end line with Spenser's "Epithalamian," one of the most successful poems I can think of which repeats the same line at the end of each stanza. I wonder why it works there and not in this poem. The obvious answer would be that Spenser's is a better line, but why is this? Why do lines like the "silver pinions" come across as a bit overkill here, while the "faery lands forlorn" from one of Keats' later poems (which one would expect to sound just as sappy) works much better? (Of course, maybe some would argue that it doesn't :lol:). Anyway, just some things I was tossing around in my head. I wondered if anyone else had similar thoughts.
Off topic--Does anyone happen to know what's become of Unnamable? It's not like him to stop posting for more than a couple days, and even though it's only been a little under a week since his last post, I wondered if he had told anyone he was taking a little time off for some reason? The forums are in danger of becoming positively sachrine without his cynical wit being peppered about. Will he actually let us go on discussing "silver pinions" all week?! ;)
I haven't heard Petrarch, but it seems like a number of people have some sort of spring break at this time of year. I too was thinking about him, especially what his reaction would be to this poem ("To Hope," bah humbug! :D ), but I imagine he might be away.Quote:
Originally Posted by Petrarch's Love
Jackyyyy--I just saw this post. I looked up "pinion" in the OED, and it seems that the meanings you give for the word--guide, cogwheel, a verb meaning to bind--have all been around since at least the 17th century. I didn't come across any particular connotations from Keats' time that we wouldn't have now except some meaning having to do with left over wool, which I don't think is applicable. The OED does refer to the figurative use of pinion for things poetically represented as having wings. Of possible interest under that entry, is the quotation from Pope's An Essay on Man, "hope humbly then, with trembling pinions soar." I wonder if this passage was at all in Keats mind when he wrote his poem, or if it's a coincidence?Quote:
Just focusing on 'pinion'... outer edge of a wing, flutters the most, pronouncing some angelic/benevolent finger of authourity, a wisdom, a miracle for the enlightenment and relief he is asking for. I wondered what is common about those stanzas that end with this 'pinions' too, and if maybe there are crests and troughs. But, I do not see this yet. Also, 'pinion', as used today, brings up lots of notions - a strong word inferring a guide, cogwheel, a binding of sort. I think 'pinion' had other connotations in Keat's time, not unique to birds/angels.
I also did a search for the phrase "silver pinions" in a wideranging 19th c. poetry database I have access to, and it came up with several instances of the phrase in describing the wings of doves of peace before Keats' use of it here.
You're probably right, I forgot some people have a later spring break. Maybe one of us should be elected to be the resident curmudgeon while he's away and toss a few more bah humbugs onto the thread. :DQuote:
I haven't heard Petrarch, but it seems like a number of people have some sort of spring break at this time of year. I too was thinking about him, especially what his reaction would be to this poem ("To Hope," bah humbug! ), but I imagine he might be away.