Don’t quite know why I chose that photo for this post. It looks good. It looks mysterious. Good poetry is sometimes mysterious. A false syllogism is lurking here somewhere.
It’s a picture of a blue moon. Good poetry comes once in a blue moon? Anyway.
I thought I’d post a few of the lines of poetry I most admire and love, that excite me most. Not precisely one line each, because natural snippets may be less than a whole line or as much as five-and-a-half lines. I’ll not give the name of the poet right away and see if you can get any of the names right (by sure knowledge or guess) WITHOUT GOOGLING THE QUOTE, AND THAT MEANS YOU, SIMPKINS! Then we can return to them and maybe discuss why they’re so good or why they’re not good. So here goes.
1: In theory they were sound on Expectation
Had there been situations to be in.
Unluckily, they were their situation.
2: Wiry and white-fiery and whirlwind swivelled snow
Spins to the widow-making, unchilding unfathering deeps.
3: With beaded bubbles winking at the brim
And purple-stained mouth
4: The earth of shells and friends is covered in flowers.
5: Far, far around shall those dark-clustered trees
Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep
6: though now it seems
As if some marvellous empty sea-shell flung
Out of the obscure dark of the rich streams
And not a fountain, were the symbol which
Shadows the inherited glory of the rich.
7: Neither the magical smith nor the carver
Of mythical fish on soft stones will answer a call.
8: But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of beaten gold and gold enamelling
9: Cold blows the wind on my true love
And a few small drops of rain
I never knew but one true love
And in greenwood he was slain.
10: It came to me on the Nile my passport lied,
Calling me dark who am grey
11: I saw Willie Mackintosh burn Auchendoon.
12: Remember me to God
And tell him that our politicians swear
They won’t give in till Prussia’s rule’s been trod
Under the heel of England…are you there?
Oh, and the war won’t end for at least two years,
But we’ve got bags of men.
12: Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass
Stains the white radiance of eternity
Until death shatters it to fragments
OK – comments are welcome.
Suggest who the poets are and maybe even name the poems
Give us some of your own favourite lines
Say something about the lines I’ve chosen!