Poem of the Week ~ Shakespeare's Sonnet XVIII

This week I have found myself pining for the true classics, and Shakespeare is difficult to beat in this respect.  In flipping through a newly acquired book of his complete sonnets, I found the well-known "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" and felt that it speaks to the mixed feelings that come with late summer: a wistfulness for the gentle balm of heat, the unique golden-ness of summer sunlight, and gentle breezes. . .combined with the increasing motivation for productivity, as school begins and schedules fill up far more quickly than one expects, though this happens every year.  This sonnet perfectly illustrates this time of transition with its allusion to aging and the changing of seasons, as well.  Of course this sonnet (as so many of them do) addresses a lover, giving it a purpose that infuses this description of the season with love.  A simple yet profoundly deep and beautiful truth.

"Sonnet XVIII"

William Shakespeare
(1564-1616)

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summers lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest;

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

Do you like Shakespearean sonnets?

Have you ever attempted to write in sonnet form?

Poem of the Week ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins' God's Grandeur

This week I've been thinking about my favorite Catholic poets, and my mind has repeatedly returned to Gerard Manley Hopkins, a 19th century British Jesuit.  His collection is rather extensive, but "God's Grandeur" has long stood apart as a favorite of mine.  It reminds me of the Eternity that is God and that every part of the world is infused with Him.  He will remain constant in His Love.

"God's Grandeur"

Gerard Manley Hopkins

(1844-1889)

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, 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 went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and ah! bright wings.

Do you have a favorite poet? 

Have you read any poems by Hopkins?

Poem of the Week ~ Louisa May Alcott's Fairy Song

While known widely for Little Women, Louisa May Alcott was also a talented poet.  Below is one of my favorites of hers; I enjoy its whimsy and lightheartedness.  Reading it stirs the whispers of my imagination and reminds me of the importance of cultivating child-like wonder.

"Fairy Song"

Louisa May Alcott 
(1832-1888)

The moonlight fades from flower and rose

And the stars dim one by one;

The tale is told, the song is sung,

And the Fairy feast is done.

The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,

And sings to them, soft and low.

The early birds erelong will wake:

'Tis time for the Elves to go,

O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,

Unseen by mortal eye,

And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float

Through the quiet moonlit sky;--

For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,

And the flowers alone may know,

The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;

So 'tis time for the Elves to go.

From bird, and blossom, and bee,

We learn the lessons they teach;

And seek, by kindly deeds, to win

A loving friend in each.

And though unseen on earth we dwell,

Sweet voices whisper low,

And gentle hearts most joyously greet

The Elves where'er they go.

When next we meet in the Fairy dell,

May the silver moon's soft light

Shine then on faces gay as now,

And Elfin hearts as light

Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky

With sunlight soon shall glow.

The morning star shall light us home:

Farewell! for the Elves must go.

                                                                                                                  1848, 1854

In what ways does this poem resonate with you? 
Do you have a favorite fairy tale?

Poem of the Week ~ Psalm 104

During my morning prayers today, I came across a lovely compilation of verses from Psalm 104.  The verses chosen in the August edition of Magnificat come together in a beautiful weaving of images that so poignantly speak to the rich vibrancy and growth found in nature during this time of the year.

Bless the Lord, my soul!

Lord God, how great you are!

You make the grass grow for the cattle

and the plants to serve man's needs,

that he may bring forth bread from the earth

and wine to cheer man's heart;

oil, to make him glad

and bread to strengthen man's heart.

The trees of the Lord drink their fill,

the cedars he planted on Lebanon;

there the birds build their nests:

on the tree-top the stork has her home.

The goats find a home on the mountains

and rabbits hide in the rocks.

I will sing to the Lord all my life,

make music to my God while I live.

May my thoughts be pleasing to him.

I find my joy in the Lord.

Bless the Lord, my soul.

-Psalm 104: 1, 14, 18, 33-34, 35b

What do you think of this arrangement?

How does it make you feel when you read it?

Poem of the Week ~ Tir Eolas' Aida

While this week's poem is technically a song, I find that many of the qualities of each form are interchangeable.  I recently discovered the group Tir Eolas, and listening to this song in particular lifts my spirits.

What do you think of this song?
What are your thoughts on the link between song and poetry?

Happy August!

Poem of the Week ~ The Lady of Shalott, Part IV

It's been a couple of weeks since I've visited, and for what I hope are understandable reasons!  The week of my last post was the one during which my family and I were preparing for my bridal shower, and then the week after consisted of winding down from that joyful event and preparing for a Catholic conference for engaged couples.  Attending that turned out to be a very productive (albeit long) experience that has continued to spark conversation between Jeffrey and me almost a week later.  Now more than ever we possess a joint consciousness of that which we are truly preparing for: our marriage.  While there are many aspects of our wedding day that we still need to finalize, there is a lifetime together for which we ask God daily to keep our focus.  Today marks 100 days until we begin our life together.  Please pray for us as we continue to prepare for this truly momentous and beautiful occasion, that we may grow closer together through God and persevere in developing our relationship with Him.

On to Part IV of The Lady of Shalott (finally)!

The Lady of Shalott  

Part IV

 

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

 Over tower'd Camelot;

Outside the isle a shallow boat

Beneath a willow lay afloat,

Below the carven stern she wrote,

The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,

All raimented in snowy white

That loosely flew (her zone in sight

Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)

       Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,

Though the squally east-wind keenly

Blew, with folded arms serenely

By the water stood the queenly

       Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Beholding all his own mischance,

Mute, with a glassy countenance—

She look'd down to Camelot.

It was the closing of the day:

She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

  The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,

By creeks and outfalls far from home,

Rising and dropping with the foam,

From dying swans wild warblings come,
 Blown shoreward; so to Camelot

Still as the boathead wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her chanting her deathsong,

    The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

  Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

   The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

    Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

   The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

 The Lady of Shalott.'

What are your thoughts about this poem as a whole?

Do you have a favorite part?

Have you read other poems by Tennyson?

 

Poem of the Week ~ The Lady of Shalott, Part III

I hope everyone had a lovely Independence Day!  I most certainly did, spending it with my family, my fiance and his family, and the many guests invited to their annual Independence Day party.  Alas, I had so much fun that I failed to remember to capture the many lovely moments I experienced that day with my camera.  However, I have no doubt that I will remember this celebration for a long time to come.  Making a new side dish with my guy, helping with last-minute preparations, reconnecting with friends, taking a walk with my family, and watching enchanting fireworks on the bank of the lake made for a beautifully memorable day.

Now it's time to introduce Part III of The Lady of Shalott.  I appreciate Tennyson's description of Sir Lancelot, simultaneously masculine and beautiful.  This infamous knight's "coal-black curls" make it easy for me to imagine my Jeffrey as Sir Lancelot.  His energy and optimism stands in such stark contrast to the lady's confinement.  The last stanza in particular is painfully beautiful.  I can imagine the heartbreak of seeing the knight Lancelot and being punished for taking in the rich colors that make up his appearance and appreciating his gallantry.  I think that the juxtaposition of Sir Lancelot's vigor and the lady's despair accentuates her pain, and even more so in the absence of a transition from one part to the next. 

 The Lady of Shalott

Part III

 

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flam'd upon the brazen greaves

  Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down from Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott. 

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

   As he rode down from Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over green Shalott. 

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'

Sang Sir Lancelot. 

She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro' the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

'The curse is come upon me,' cried

  The Lady of Shalott. 

What are your thoughts on Part III?

Is there a particular stanza that strikes you?

Poem of the Week ~ The Lady of Shalott, Part II

Happy July!  I hope this new month finds you well.  I myself awoke this morning to a refreshing optimism and determination to preserve and cultivate my total trust in the Lord.  Although I remain unemployed, I refuse to let a day pass me by without making the most of it.  As I pursue different job leads, I integrate time for prayer and creativity on a daily basis.  I know that God has a plan for me, and as long as I place firmly my faith in Him and work alongside Him to the best of my ability, then I can fall asleep at night knowing that everything will be all right.  Even when my circumstances are not what I wish they were, I must remember that there is immeasurable beauty in my life.  I am incredibly blessed to be a member of a loving family, and my devoted fiance, Jeffrey, and I are exactly four months away from celebrating our wedding.  I have loved and will continue to love, and the love that I receive in return is enough to soften my heart even during the most stressful of times.  I will strive to hold on to the love of my Father, my family, and my fiance, and pray without ceasing, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

Now for our poem of the week:  

The Lady of Shalott 

 Part II

 

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she, 

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

I am half sick of shadows,' said

  The Lady of Shalott. 

How do you react to the bittersweet language of Part II?

Poem of the Week ~ The Lady of Shalott, Part I

One of my favorite poems is Alfred, Lord Tennyson's The Lady of Shalott (1832).  The language, imagery, and story it tells captivate me entirely.  As it is a rather long poem, I plan on sharing it in the four separate parts to which Tennyson assigned it.  I have never read it this way before, so I'm looking forward to a new experience with this poem.  I hope to note both the distinctions and links between the four parts, and in so doing deepen my appreciation for each of them and the whole poem, as well.

  

The Lady of Shalott

 Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

What are your thoughts on Part I?
Do you have a favorite line or description?