Poetry
Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. 1 by Jim Morrison
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I bought this volume of Jim Morrisonâs poetry at Starrlight Books, a great shop in Flagstaff, Arizona. Iâve been fascinated with Morrison since I first started listened to the Doors back in high school in the 80s. This is a wonderful collection that goes, in my opinion, far beyond his writings with that band. Iâm so glad to have picked it up and will place it among my other treasured books.
I read this volume straight through it on the plane ride home a few days later. A few of my recent reading selections havenât grabbed my interest. Iâve even resorted to skimming through parts. That wasnât the case with this work. I read every word of each poem, sometimes flipping back a few pages to reread one that was echoing in the back of my mind. I scribbled a quick note saying that he wasnât like most modern poets Iâve read. Morrison reminded me more of 18th and 19th century poets. Perhaps thatâs because of what I mostly read nowadays, but I think itâs also since he drew a lot of inspiration from poets of that era, such as Blake and Rimbaud.
While everything resonated with me, there were a few lines that stood out. Echoing the second generation of Romantics (e.g. Shelley and Keats), Morrison writes: âShrill demented sparrows bark / The sun into being. They rule / dawnâs Kingdomâ (p. 35). In a poignant commentary on social relationships (p. 117), he says
Actors must make us think theyâre real Our friends must not make us think weâre actingReminding me of my own youth, when we didnât have 24-hour radio or online streaming: âWhen radio dark night existed / & assumed control, & we rocked in its web / consumed by static, & stroked with fear / we were drawn down long from / a deep sleepâ (p. 135). Finally, from his poem âAs I Look Backâ (p. 201):
As I look back over my life I am struck by post cards Ruined Snap shotsfaded posters Of a time, I canât recall
The Pre-Raphaelites: From Rossetti to Ruskin, edited by Dinah Roe
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
The Pre-Raphaelites From Rossetti to Ruskin was pulled together by Dinah Roe. Her introduction and brief chronology of this short-lived art movement were really enjoyable, and for me, the best part of the volume. I really never got into any of the poets in this collection. Thatâs not a comment on all of them, but it just didnât do it for me. Some of the selections did remind me of high school gloom, doom and unrequited love poetry. This was one of the claims thrown at the PRB during their time on the scene. So, please take my one star rating as a reflection of my interest in the Pre-Raphaelites rather than a comment on this particular collected work.
Falling Awake by Alice Oswald
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I read Alice Oswaldâs Memorial with such joy that I pre-ordered Falling Awake and had it delivered the day it was released. I enjoyed this collection of poems but for me, it fell short of Memorial. I had hope for Tithonus, as it reminded me of the work she did with Memorial. The myth of Tithonus, who was granted immortality but not forever youth, is ripe for exploring, but I felt this was more a performative piece for a public venue rather than one to be read and savored in print.
Two poems really stood out for me and made this collection worth the time to engage. âA Short Story of Fallingâ was excellent. There was so much to unpack from such a short piece that I reread each stanza twice the first time through. I also adored âA Rushed Account of the Dewâ. To me, it was about being present in the moment. She writes âI who can hear the last three seconds in my head / but the present is beyond me / listenâ.
The Pleasures of Memory With Other Poems by Samuel Rogers
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
An enjoyable read of a poet who was friends with Byron and Shelley and one of only three people to turn down the post of Poet Laureate of the UK. The main poem, “The Pleasures of Memory”, was good. But for melancholic and nostalgic poetry, I prefer Thomas Gray’s “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College” and Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Frost at Midnight”. The other long poem in this volume, “An Epistle to a Friend”, was nice, especially in the preface about the difference between true and false taste. Rogers says true taste is confined to “a few objects, and delights in producing great effects by small means” versus false taste which is “forever sighing after the new and the rare” (p. 87). Well said, even if I don’t always follow that philosophy.
I really enjoyed the notes to this work, especially the items on Edward Gibbon (p. 75) and Lord Chesterfield (p. 109). The latter describes the quote from Horace’s Satires (ii 6. 60-62) Chesterfield had inscribed in his library: “nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, &c.”, which translates to “now the books of the ancients, now sleep, etc.”
The Penguin Book of Renaissance Verse 1509-1659 by David Norbrook
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I picked up this collection of English Renaissance verse in my local used bookshop. While I was really only familiar with Edmund Spenser and John Milton from this period, the rest of the entries looked intriguing.
The preface was great. It explained the editorâs choices for what was included and excluded. It also delved into what had been excluded in the past when verse from this era was published (e.g. see pp. xxxi-xxxii). Excluded authors were often due to the constraints of various canons, popularity and even social mores. The editor also explains that there was an initial disdain for printed poetry by authors during this era. Newer technologies were frowned upon (a seemingly never-ending human trait!), the control of ownership was difficult as there was no formal copyright law, and the words themselves might change as manuscript versions circulated or the poetry was performed, and the creators didnât want their words fixed.
If the preface was great, the book is worth the price of entry (both in purse and time) for the introduction. A tour de force through the period of 1509-1659. So much to unpack and enjoy. One interesting tidbit was a discussion of the rise of interpretation and translation as a source of power. People were beginning to read more of the Hebrew and Greek sources of biblical books instead of the official Vulgate (Latin) bible. The original texts showed more nuances. New translations from original sources to the vernacular were shifting power away from the priest and toward the individual (p. 11). We also see the connected trail from past to future in pastoral and rural poetry. William Browneâs âBritanniaâs Pastoralsâ (1616) foreshadows Keats and the Romantics nearly 200 years later (p. 30).
Finally, two of the appendices are invaluable: a glossary of classical names and a short biographical entry for each author whose work appears in the volume.
Getting into the actual verse, there were many entries that stood out. I enjoyed the anonymous item âJohn Arm-strongs last good nightâ (p. 86-89). I very much liked Book 5 of Edmund Spenserâs The Faerie Queene (p. 134-141), but I didnât enjoy books 2 and 3 from the same text. Thomas Carewâs âThe Springâ (p. 353-354) reminded me of Thomsonâs Seasons and some of Wordsworth & Coleridgeâs Lyrical Ballads. I enjoyed John Donneâs âTo Sir Henry Wottonâ, a neat versing of a letter as a poem (p. 498-500). Thomas Deloneyâs âThe Weavers Songâ (p. 501-502) was a great story that drew on the Trojan War and characters from epic poetry. Thomas Campionâs â[Now winter nights enlarge]â (p. 510-511) was a fun romp through love and the seasons.
Iâll highlight three that I really enjoyed. Alexander Barclayâs âCertayne Egloges 5â from around 1513-1514 was wonderful (p. 381-382). I loved his description of winter arriving, how the landscape changes, how people wish for winter but then realize that itâs very cold and curse it. The flow of the poem is just wonderful:
The winter snowes, all covered is the grounde The north wind blowes sharpe and with ferefull sound, The longe ise sicles at the ewes hang, The streame is frosen, the night is cold and long, Where botes rowed nowe cartes have pasageThe second entry I loved is Chidiock Tichborneâs elegy. He wrote this on the eve of his execution (19 September 1586) after being condemned for treason for trying to kill Elizabeth I and replace her with a Catholic monarch:
My prime of youth is but a froste of cares: My feaste of joy, is but a dishe of payne: My cropp of corne, is but a field of tares: And all my good is but vaine hope of gaine: The daye is gone, and yet I sawe no sonn: And nowe I live, and nowe my life is donnMy final entry to highlight is probably the best. It is Ămilia Lanyerâs âSalve Deus Rex JudĂŠorum (p. 556-558). This reminds me of Miltonâs Paradise Lost. She chastises Eve but calls out Adam for the greater failure (sin) he was king of all things and was alive before Eve. She notes that Man always honors and loves knowledge, but never mentions that it was Eve who gave him the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge that opened his eyes. In my reading notes, I wrote âDamn!â This is definitely a proto-feminist piece written by the first professional English woman poet. This was written in 1611 ⊠double damn!
But surely Adam cannot be excusâd, Her fault, though great, yet he was most too blame; What Weaknesse offerd, Strength might have refusâd, Being Lord of all, the greater was his shame: Although the Serpents craft had her abusâd, Gods holy word ought all his actions frame: For he was Lord and King of all the earth, Before poore Eve had either life or breath.My only feedback for a new edition of this work would be to include the date of each entry along with the title. I frequently had to flip to the back to read the author bios to find out when a selected entry was written.
The Lay of the Last Minstrel by Walter Scott
It was so refreshing to return to early 19th c. poetry. I truly enjoyed Scottâs The Lay of the Last Minstrel. It was an interesting story of romance, border clashes and even a little sorcery. In Canto II, we hear of two stealing into a crypt at night to pry a book of magic from a dead manâs grip. The rhythm of this poem is very fast. I felt pulled through the whole work instead of only reading my way.
But, my initial draw to this work, and one that still remains strongly within me, was in the first stanza of the 6th canto (p.176):
High though his titles, proud his name Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concerted all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.
The Poetical Works of John Milton
The selections of Milton from this volume, excluding Paradise Lost, left me wanting. Paradise Regained lacked the power, dialogue and themes of Paradise Lost. It felt more like a Sunday school session rather than the philosophical argument. ‘Regained’ and many of the other selections felt two-dimensional, trying to pontificate rather than entice and convince. This book is worth the time for Paradise Lost. See my review of a standalone version of that work if you are interested.
Paradise Lost by John Milton
My rating: 5 of 5 stars For me, reading Paradise Lost was like the first time I read Homerâs Odyssey. It is immersive, interesting and stokes both heart and mind. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Iâm glad I waited so long to read it. I needed some experience and growth before I could appreciate it for its depth. Interestingly enough, I first became aware of Miltonâs epic poem as a child, from the âSpace Seedâ episode of one of my favorite TV series, Star Trek. The line in that episode was spoken by Satan in Paradise Lost: âBetter to reign in Hell, than serve in Heavenâ (I: 263).
This poem is about the Fall of man in the garden of Eden. The Tree of Knowledge is one of the two forbidden trees in the Garden. In Book IV, Satan says of that tree:
âCan it be a sin to know? Can it be death? And do they only stand By Ignorance? Is that their happy state The proof of their obedience and their faith?â (IV: 517-520)Satan furthers it in Book IX, the exciting beginning of the Fall. Satan sneaks into the Garden of Eden. Speaking to Eve alone, he says of the fruit of the forbidden tree,
âWhy then was this forbid? Why, but to awe; Why, but to keep ye low and ignorant, His worshippersâ (IX: 703-705)Eve gives in to desire and reaches for the fruit. I would too. Knowledge is food for me.
Another favorite quote of mine from Paradise Lost is one that was used as an epigraph in Mary Shelleyâs Frankenstein. Paradise Lost is one of the three books that the Creature finds in the woods and with which he teaches himself to read. (The other two books are Goetheâs Sorrows of Young Werther and one volume of Plutarchâs Lives.) The quote is:
âDid I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me Man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote meâ (X: 743-745)
The Poems of Robert Frost
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
I really couldnât get into this selection of Robert Frostâs poems. It brought together seven of his published collections, which was kind of neat, covering the period from his first book in 1913 up to A Witness Tree in 1942. I read a lot of poetry, but Iâm primarily drawn to works from the 18th and 19th century, especially Byron and Percy Shelley. I think Wordsworth would have liked Frost, as both focused on nature, simpler life, etc. It might be that Iâm not as excited about Modern poetry, except for a few pieces, mainly Howl by Ginsburg. I also couldnât get drawn into the folksy, rural tone.
But, having said that, there were some nice moments. In his North of Boston collection, I liked the mood set by “Good Hours” (p. 114). I also loved this part of âThe Fearâ (p. 111):
Whatâs a child doing at this time of night-?In the Mountain Interval (1916) collection, most people are drawn to âThe Road Not Taken.â I thought it was interesting, especially when reading some background material about how it is one of his most misunderstood poems. But, more important to me was his short piece âA Time To Talk" (p. 133). It deals with true friendship and tells us not to worry about what work we have to do when a friend stops by but to go right over and talk to them. Important life advice.Out walking. Every child should have the memory Of at least one long-after-bedtime walk.â
In New Hampshire (1923), thereâs his famous âStopping by Woods on a Snowy Eveningâ (p. 238). I like the rhythm and mechanics of the last stanza.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
The Seasons by James Thomson
According to the Patrick Murdochâs Life of the Author that preceded my edition of James Thomsonâs The Seasons, autumn was Thomsonâs favorite time of the year. We share that in common. I enjoyed reading his four poems that touched on physical, mental and spiritual moments throughout the year. The edition I read was in a beautiful binding and it used the 1746 edition of the text, the last one revised by the author before his death.
Thomsonâs word choices and phrasing can slow down the modern reader, and some contemporary reviewers felt he needed to say things more simply. But, there are joyful moments throughout each section. I delighted in his description of the joy post-harvest in autumn (lines 1213-1223) and the pleasures of reading in winter (431-439). In spring, true love blossoms (1113-1125) and in summer, sleep is something that shouldnât be overdone as there is so much life to live (67-80).
The Grave by Robert Blair
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
An enjoyable read, especially since my copy has Thomas Gray’s Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard appended to it. It was common to see the two of these bound together. I like that the Gray came later, since Blair’s poem was very dark and grim. Gray’s, while also profound, is a little lighter in spirit and a nice way to end an evening of reading about life and death. That could partly be due to its rhymed meter. I think I preferred the blank verse of Blair’s poem when engaging such a subject.
Overall, very pleased to have encountered these poems.
Poems by Mr. Gray: A New Edition
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
My interest in Horace Walpole led me to Thomas Gray. They were fellow students and close friends until they clashed during a grand tour of Europe. They mended their friendship somewhat, and Walpole even printed some of Gray poetry at Walpoleâs Strawberry Hill Press. In this collection of poetry, thereâs even an ode that Gray wrote after the accidental death of Walpoleâs beloved cat, Selima.
My edition of this work opens with an advertisement by the publisher, John Murray. He is addressing a lawsuit raised by another publisher, the Rev. Mr. Mason against an earlier printing of these poems. Murray strongly takes on Mason and delivers a scathing critique of Masonâs suit and Masonâs practices in general. Today, someone reading such an exchange might say âoh, snap!â In an short biography, also by Murray, he says of Gray: âa propensity to melancholy, the constant attendant of genius, was observableâ (p. xxiii). So true.
I think the best poem in the collection was âOde on a Distant Prospect of Eton College.â I thin he absolutely nails nostalgia, the innocence of childhood, the desire to look back as one ages but the realization that it was a different time and you canât go back. He writes well of the innocence of with
Alas! regardless of their doom The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond todayâI lived that and can imagine myself saying that today.
âThe Descent of Odinâ is a poem that Gray translated from the Norse language. It reminded me of Homerâs epics. The previously mentioned âOde on the Death of a Favorite Catâ ends with a great warning, for the cat and for all of us, âNor all that glisters, gold.â The sentiment is very old, and was used by Chaucer and Shakespeare before Gray used it to end his piece.
âElegy Written in a Country Church-Yardâ is one of Grayâs most remembered poems, and I enjoyed it except for the epitaph at the end. Some research suggests it was added after an original draft. I think it cops out a little, taking the reflection, melancholy and resignation at death out of the poem. In the main body, I enjoyed:
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power And all that beauty, all that wealth eâer gave, Await alike thâ inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the graveThe Notes at the end of this edition were also enjoyable, more so on a meta-level. They made me pine for a better classical education, for myself and others. Thankfully, I have enough of a classical education to realize that I need to learn more. Examples of what induced these feelings were quotes in classical Greek from Homer and snippets from Shakespeare, Dryden and other important writers.
For me, one of the beauties of poetry is its ability to evoke an emotion or trigger a memory that then evokes the emotion. And a poem that is timeless is even better, in that it also connects me to the writer and times in which they wrote. Coleridge once said: âProse is words in their best order; poetry is the best words in the best order.â I have been lucky in that many of the poems Iâve read over the last few years have been the best words in their best order.
I finished the book yesterday and am writing my thoughts a day later. I remain confident that it deserves 5 stars and Iâm happy to have read it.
The Poetical Works of William Blake, Lyrical and Miscellaneous (William Michael Rossetti, ed.)
John Windle introduced me to William Blake when I visited his store in San Francisco. I was interested in the Romantic poets but didnât know much about Blakeâs writing. I thought of him as an artist and engraver, not as a writer. This volume changed my mind. It was wonderful. A prefatory memoir by William Michael Rossetti was fabulous, introducing the man, his world and his works. Rossetti also provides a bounty of bibliographic information, including ownership and dates associated with original Blake poems and manuscripts. The memoir alone makes this a valued work.
The volume starts out with Blakeâs Poetical Sketches, mostly work he did from about 12 until he was 20. Itâs not that great, but then again, he was just starting out, finding his voice and working as an apprentice engraver to boot. However, these works show promise and development. I did feel a little foreshadowing of Wordsworth & Coleridgeâs Lyrical Ballads in some of Blakeâs early pieces, especially his songs.
As he matured, his writing became more complex and engaged with the world. In Songs of Experience, the sections âHoly Thursday,â âThe Garden of Love,â and âThe Schoolboyâ stood out. The words of âHoly Thursdayâ still resonates in today’s world of growing economic inequality:
Is this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand?â (p. 98)In "The Grey Monk", Blake shines a light on what can happen in the aftermath of revolution:
âThe hand of vengeance found the bed To which the purple tyrant fled; The iron hand crushed the tyrantâs head, And became a tyrant in his steadâ (p. 166)While I wasnât that familiar with Blake when I picked up this volume, I realized that there was one poem of his Iâd known for decades ⊠a stanza from âAugeries of Innocenceâ:
âEvery night and every morn Some to misery are born; Every morn and every night Some are born to sweet delight; Some are born to sweet delight Some are born to the endless nightâ (p. 183)These lines were paraphrased in The Doorsâ song âEnd of the Night,â off their first album, one of my top albums of all time.
Toward the end of this volume, there are a few short satirical pieces on the arts and artists. One that made me laugh (and cry) was a fictional dialogue about what the three parts of painting are. The oracleâs answers were: patronage, patronage, and patronage. Be it the turn of the 19th century or the 21st, patronage remains essential for the creation of all forms of art.
This Blake volume closes with Tiriel, a beautiful narrative poem that feels like a classical Greek play with large characters, tragedy and lessons to be learned. I thoroughly enjoyed it and could think of no better way to end this edition.
I wholeheartedly recommend Blake and this collection of his works. The one I read was The Poetical Works of William Blake, Lyrical and Miscellaneous (London: George Bell and Sons 1880). The edition was edited and included a memoir by William Michael Rossetti.
The Golden Book of Coleridge by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
It can be difficult to read the collected works of a poet. It also may do a disservice to the poet if the work was put together after theyâve died. It might not be in the order they want and it will almost always group better works with lesser ones. But I thoroughly enjoyed Samuel Taylor Coleridgeâs The Golden Book of Coleridge, published by Everyman Library (1945). A great introduction by Stopford A. Brooke provides a reverential yet solid introduction to the man and his works.
Frost at Midnight (1798) is beautiful, combining nostalgia and the present, love and an argument for country and nature over city life. It is simply wonderful. The Nightingale (1798) is serenity in writing. The emotional impact of Ode on a Departing Year was powerful for me. Emotion just poured off the page. It even required me to dig up my copy of Aeschylusâs Agamemnon, in order to translate the Classical Greek in the introductory quote.
I love the Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1817 version in this edition), but I prefer the original from Lyrical Ballads (1798). The one included here uses less archaic language in the body of the poem but includes a gloss that destroys the flow of the story (think footnotes as opposed to endnotes). The story itself is still wonderful, enchanting and frightening, in an early 19th century way.
The Three Graves (1797-1809) was very haunting and faced paced. Like many of his other dark works, Coleridge didnât finish this piece and I feel sad that there isnât more of it for me to savor.
In 1816, Coleridge published three poems in a pamphlet, Christabel, Kubla Khan and The Pains of Sleep. Oh, if only I could have been there when this âhit the stands.â Christabel blew me away. I could see the influence this poem had on later writers, especially J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Edgar Allan Poe. Coleridge evokes a dark and delightful mood. I might like it better than The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and wonder what Christabel would have been like if it had been finished. The Pains of Sleep (1803) was excellent and visceral. Kubla Khan was enjoyable the first time I read it, but upon a second reading, I felt it never opened up fully for me. The memorable first stanza grabs your attention with its rhyme and pacing, but the rest of the unfinished work is slower.
All in all, this was a wonderful collection of Coleridgeâs work in an edition I picked up at Red Letter Secondhand Books in Boulder, Colorado.
Shelleyâs Poetical Works, ed. by Mrs. Shelley
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I thoroughly enjoyed working through the three volumes of Percy Bysshe Shelleyâs poetical works, as edited posthumously by his wife Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. This was the second edition, published in 1853. I have a thirst for the Romantic period and Shelley has been called one of the greats. Having read a little bit of William Blake and a great deal of William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and John Keats, I think Iâd say Shelley was definitely one of the greater second generation Romantics. I currently prefer first generation poets Coleridge and Blake. When reading Shelley and his contemporaries Keats & Lord Byron, I found it hard to sustain my momentum through several of their works. Perhaps it was just me, and there is certainly a large amount of Shelleyâs work that I truly enjoyed. I will surely return to these volumes again and again.
I liked Queen Mab (1813) and was impressed that he wrote it when he was so young. My edition only contained the first two cantos, so I had to read the rest from a Project Gutenberg edition. My edited version was due to self-censorship to avoid prosecution for blasphemous libel for Shelleyâs atheistic passages and criticisms of organized religion. The long poem covers many topics, including business greed, religious shams and the guile of kings and leaders. Queen Mab still resonates 201 years later.
Ozymandias (1818) is one of my favorite Shelley pieces and one that I hope someday to commit to memory. It so cleanly, quickly and incisively gets its point across. It conveys how small we are and how fleeting our glory and power are when compared against the expanse of time.
I really enjoyed the Cenci (1819), based on a true story from the end of the 16th century. It was more direct writing and easier to read than Prometheus Unbound (1820) or Hellas (1822). Those two felt unnecessarily complicated and overwritten. The Revolt of Islam (1817) was interesting but what I took most from it was Shelleyâs preface where he notes that many writers of his day were writing for contemporary critics, not the ages or freely (1: 67). He said that was the problem of his age, and something I think people still fall prey to today.
The Masque of Anarchy (1819) touches on nonviolent resistance: âWith folded arms and steady eyes / And little fear, and less surprise, / Look upon them as they slay, / Till their rage has died awayâ (stanza 86, 2: 373). Powerful words now, I canât imagine how new and powerful they were when first published.
To a Skylark (1820) wowed me, especially at the end. I hope, like Shelley, that my writing will one day learn from the skylark: âBetter than all measures Of delightful sound Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world would listen then, As I am listening now.â (stanzas XX-XXI; 3: 26)
Adonais (1821) is a beautiful elegy for John Keats, after his tragic death at just 24. Adonais is Shelley at his best. He conveys honor, love and regret on the death of his contemporary. I was touched by his plea: âAwake him not! Surely he takes his fill / Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all illâ (Stanza 7; 3: 127)
Finally, Shelley and I seem to approach our reading time in similar fashion: âHow sweet it is to sit and read the tales / Of mighty poets, and to hear the while / Sweet music, which when the attention fails / Fills the dim pauseââ Fragments (stanza XIV; 3: 244).
John Keats: Selected Poetry (ed: Elizabeth Cook)
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I almost gave this book three stars, since I really loved only a few of the Keats poems contained within, but the book as a whole gave me such a great look at his progression from start to finish. That was one intent of the editor, Elizabeth Cook. She writes in her introduction: “But to read Keats’s poetry through in chronological sequence (the principle of this volume) is to be impressed with the astonishing speed with which it matures. Keats effectively produced his life’s work in two years; the greater part of it in one” (p. x).
I found several of his poems too verbose, as though he were trying to impress us with his vocabulary. I’ve seen intense poetry from Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley and other Romantics that hit on similar themes but did it in fewer words. I’m not looking to enforce a word limit (e.g. I love the Odyssey), but I want these poems to be beautiful, using only what is necessary. Keats succeeds best when his craft fades away and the story and emotions come to the foreground. But even in these longer works, he often has a moment of clarity. In “Sleep and Poetry,” he writes: “Stop and consider! life is but a day; / A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way / From a tree’s summit” (lines 85-87).
I like his narrative poems the best. “Lamia” is my favorite, by far. It is a well constructed story with beautifully chosen words the flows perfectly. I thoroughly enjoyed “Hyperion: A Fragment” as well. His attempt to rework this unfinished poem in “Fall of Hyperion” fails, in my opinion. He returns to using too many words again, almost like a student padding a paper to reach the required page count. The beauty and sadness of “Hyperion” is lost amongst the glut of words.
I wonder what Keats would have produced had he not died of tuberculosis at 25. Based on Hyperion and Lamia, I think he would have continued to grow and increased his legacy even further.
Let me give yet another shout out to the wonderful editions in the Oxford World’s Classic series, produced by the Oxford University Press. I really love these editions … this is my 7th in the series. A great introduction, timeline of the authors life, the work and then fantastic notes that provide context and elucidation.
On rereading books
My father-in-law sent me a quote and asked me whether or not I thought it true. It seemed pretty straightforward, but I unpacked it over a run. I wrote him back but thought I’d share it here too.
When you re-read a classic, you do not see more in the book than you did before; you see more in yourself than there was before. -- Clifton Fadiman, editor and critic (1904-1999)I think the quote can be true in that as you change and grow, your perspective on things changes, hence your interpretation and understanding of what the author is telling you may be different. The text itself is static and humans are not machines that produce the same output given the same input over their lifespan.
On a trivial level, I think you might see more in a book on a re-reading, since you may have glanced over a piece or been distracted by an outside disturbance (noise, music, anger, sadness, confusion, etc.).
I have certainly experienced having a passage with little importance to my view of the world on one reading, that turns out to be pivotal the next time I encounter it. Additionally, I think that some passages that I saw as sublime at one point have seemed less important, or even trivial, as I’ve aged.
I would add that there’s another option the quote doesn’t quite cover, namely a better understanding of the context in which the work was created. Knowing the times in which the work was written, the conditions of the people it references, the group of creators who the author worked with, etc. all can enhance an understanding of the text, i.e. find new meaning in the text. That isn’t really a question of something new in me, unless you’d argue that new knowledge in me is what the quote was trying to get at.
Poetry might be a different game altogether. I’ve been reading a lot of it lately, predominately the Romantics (Coleridge, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, a little Byron). I reread several poems in the course of two weeks and each time, it seemed like I found something new in it. I think good poetry needs to unpacked, as there are often many levels of meaning. And sometimes the meaning is influenced by which poems precede and follow it. So, context matters a great deal in poetry, whereas in prose, you traditionally read linearly from beginning to end. I have read a poem that means one thing to me, but when I read it along with other ones next to it, it takes on a different meaning, maybe only fuller, but it’s different to me. There’s also understanding the “school of thought” writers, ones such as the Romantics who wrote together, or were followers of early Romantic poets. You can see threads, challenges and experiments in a new text. These things increase my understanding of the work, which isn’t really from inside me nor inside the static text.
I don’t reread stories that often. I’m slowly trying to get into that practice, especially as I get older. Perhaps looking for both more in the text and more in me. I reread Allen Ginsberg’s poem “Howl” every year. Each time, I feel like I find something new in it, but I also see how much I myself continue to change.
All in all, an excellent exercise.
Lyrical Ballads by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Lyrical Ballads: 1798 and 1802 by William Wordsworth
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
As my interest in 19th century literature, especially the Romantics, has increased, I thought I should turn to one of the foundational works of Romantic movement. Wordsworth and Coleridgeâs Lyrical Ballads sets the stage for a tactile and euphoric literature that embraced the world around it. It eschewed some of the loftier and abstract subjects of poetry and focused on the land and the people close to it. The edition I read includes both the original 1798 volume and the expanded, two-volume 1802 version. Fundamental to the 1802 edition is the Preface, originally added in 1800.
Wordsworthâs Preface is outstanding. He lays out the purpose of poetry and his thoughts on the what he and Coleridge are trying to convey with Lyrical Ballads. Fundamentally, Wordsworth writes that âpoetry is the first and last of all knowledgeâ it is as immortal as the heart of manâ (p. 107). He thinks that the poet has only one restriction, that he must give âimmediate pleasure to a human Being possessed of that information which may be expected from him, not as a lawyer, a physician, a mariner, an astronomer or a natural philosopher, but as a Manâ (p. 105). Wordsworth also tries to differentiate this collection from contemporary poetry. He writes that âthe feeling therein developed gives importance to the action and situation, and not the action and situation to the feelingâ (p. 99). With this, I think he means that feeling drives the action, it is active not passive. Our emotions drive our world, our actions within it and our understanding of it.
I liked both poets, even though Coleridge contributed only four poems. Coleridgeâs content, meter and pacing are excellent. Wordsworth is wonderful for evoking something within me. Of Wordsworthâs pieces, I truly enjoyed âGoody Blake, and Harry Gill, A True Storyâ, âWe Are Sevenâ, âThe Last of the Flockâ, âThe Idiot Boyâ, âThe Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Womanâ, âThe Brothers, A Pastoral Poemâ, âLucy Grayâ, âThe Childless Fatherâ, âThe Old Cumberland Beggarâ and âMichael, A Pastoralâ. From Coleridge, I absolutely adored his 1798 poem âThe Rime of the Ancyent Marinere, in Seven Partsâ.
I prefer the 1798 edition over the 1802 version of Lyrical Ballads. I think that the 1798 edition was more incisive, compact and visceral. I felt that there was too much in the latter edition, in that it seemed to dilute the impact of the original work. I certainly wasnât happy with the changes to The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere effected in the 1802 rewrite âThe Ancient Mariner, A Poetâs Reverieâ. Coleridge updated the language with contemporary words, and while the original version was a little hard to read then (and certainly now), it was worth the effort, making it one of my favorite pieces in the collection.
Ariel by Sylvia Plath
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I enjoyed reading Sylvia Plath’s last works, in the original form that her ex-husband put together after her death. There is another edition that restores the Ariel collection to what the author originally intended in the draft of the work she left at her death. No matter which version you read, you will still be entranced by many of her poems. I particularly liked “Morning Song”, “The Applicant”, “Wintering” and one of her most powerful poems, “Daddy”. I wasn’t totally taken with the “Ariel” poem itself. I liked it but it didn’t hit me inside like the others.
Good poetry, of which Plath’s collection is a strong example, is difficult to read, at least for me. It’s a tight distillation of contemporary thought, culture and understandings, tied together with the inner emotional landscape of the creator. Most novels, including even a few postmodern ones, you can usually pick up, start reading and have some basic understanding of what’s happening at that very moment. Poems, on the other hand, require a great deal of effort, patience and love in order to grasp more than simply a nice execution of form. And when poems are collected, they take on another level of understanding, and one might even say an additional level is added by the order in which the poems are laid out.
Paul Bowles' poetry
If you find Mary Oliver’s collection interesting, then you should also check out Next To Nothing: Collected Poems: 1926-1977 by Paul Bowles. Bowles is one of my top three writers (along with Camus and Steinbeck). My favorite poem from his collected poems is Nights. It was written in 1977 and is transcribed below: