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View Diary: Poet, Painter, Journalist--Life with a Litterateur (32 comments)

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  •  and I have (2+ / 0-)
    Recommended by:
    carolanne, Diana in NoVa

    recited the first book of Paradise Lost...ah, God...there is nothing like it.  I am so happy to read this...what a guy.

    •  I'm impressed! The first book of "Paradise Lost"! (0+ / 0-)

      Myself, I never made it to the 12-Hour Poetry Club, although I did make it to the 1-hour club level. I memorized all five of Keats' odes, plus "The Eve of St. Agnes"; Swinburne's "Garden of Proserpine"; Rossetti's "The Burden of Nineveh" and "The Blessed Damozel"; and...I think that's about it.

      It is possible to become quite intoxicated by poetry!  No mind-altering chemicals needed.

      "Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich."--Napoleon

      by Diana in NoVa on Mon Aug 08, 2011 at 06:04:55 PM PDT

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      •  I'm with you (1+ / 0-)
        Recommended by:
        Diana in NoVa

        maybe an hour but how happy you can be on an ordinary day to recite "The Eve of St. Agnes.:

        A casement high and triple-arch'd there was,
        All garlanded with carven imag'ries
        Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
        And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
        Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
        As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings;
        And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
        And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
        A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.

        Can it get any better???  

        Yes!

        And they are gone: aye, ages long ago
        These lovers fled away into the storm.
        That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
        And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
        Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
        Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old
        Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform;
        The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
        For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold

        •  Your Kossack name is most apt, John (0+ / 0-)

          Aren't those stanzas stirring?  Keats in this poem makes his language take on the qualities of a richly worked tapestry--there are flashes of gold, blue, crimson in his words.

          What an incredible young man he was..."This poor, sick boy," Lafacadio Hearn called him.

          If Keats could only know that his name has not "been writ in water" after all.

          "Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich."--Napoleon

          by Diana in NoVa on Mon Aug 08, 2011 at 07:02:08 PM PDT

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          •  Thanks for this (0+ / 0-)

            Diary.  (page layout is messed up, so couldn't respond directly)

            "The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love." ~~ William Sloane Coffin

            by puddleriver on Mon Aug 08, 2011 at 07:32:16 PM PDT

            [ Parent ]

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