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Poetry Meme

Happy birthday to super_chik, and happy early birthday to dement1a and funkyturtle. May all three of you enjoy many happy returns of the day!

Gacked from belleferret:

When you see this, comment with a poem you love or post one in your own journal to encourage the proliferation of random poetry through your flist.

I'm going to be unimaginative and go with my very favorite poem, because it's been ages since I posted it, and it's always worth rereading.

by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were--I have not seen
As others saw--I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I loved alone.
Then--in my childhood--in the dawn
Of a most stormy life--was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold--
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by--
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.



( 11 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 26th, 2011 03:54 pm (UTC)
Hah, Poe. I just posted this in other journals doing the meme:

My favorite poem is The Raven by Poe. I'll just post the first two verses.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
Aug. 26th, 2011 04:08 pm (UTC)
Great minds think alike, right? ;)

You can never go wrong with Poe. Much love for this.
Aug. 26th, 2011 05:09 pm (UTC)
God, I love Poe. I mostly like The Raven not so much for its "deep meaning" but for the way it spills out on the page or across the tongue, so beautifully, artfully written. And for the wonderful atmosphere.
Aug. 26th, 2011 05:43 pm (UTC)
Why am I not surprised to find Poe here? ;-)

I love so many of his poems, they are my favorites to hear read aloud. *shivers with delight*
Aug. 31st, 2011 12:37 pm (UTC)
LOL! Predictable, aren't I? ;)

I'm with you: hearing Poe aloud is such a treat.

Thanks for this meme!
Aug. 26th, 2011 09:15 pm (UTC)
Who doesn't love Poe? :-) But my favorite poem is Evangeline, by Longfellow. Because it's too long to post in its entirety, I've posted the introductory verses.

THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers --
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean.
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pré.

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.

The entire poem can be found here.
Aug. 31st, 2011 12:37 pm (UTC)
Oh, what a brilliant choice! Just gorgeous.
Aug. 28th, 2011 02:28 am (UTC)
Life's joys are often simple!


By George Arnold

    With my beer
I sit,
While golden moments flit:
    They pass
Unheeded by:
And, as they fly,
Being dry,
    Sit, idly sipping here
    My beer.

O, finer far
Than fame, or riches, are
The graceful smoke-wreaths of this free cigar!
    Should I
    Weep, wail, or sigh?
    What if luck has passed me by?
What if my hopes are dead,— 
My pleasures fled?
    Have I not still
    My fill
Of right good cheer,—
Cigars and beer?

    Go, whining youth,
Go, weep and wail,
Sigh and grow pale,
    Weave melancholy rhymes
    On the old times,
Whose joys like shadowy ghosts appear,—
But leave me to my beer!
    Gold is dross,—
    Love is loss,—
So, if I gulp my sorrows down,
Or see them drown
In foamy draughts of old nut-brown,
Then do I wear the crown,
    Without the cross!

Read more about this poem and poet on the Poetry Foundation website: http://bit.ly/nNvMXE

Sent from The Poetry Foundation POETRY mobile app. Download your copy from AppStore now!

Aug. 31st, 2011 08:18 pm (UTC)
Re: Poetry
Oh, good one! :)
(Deleted comment)
Aug. 31st, 2011 12:38 pm (UTC)
Fantastic! What great taste we have, right? *wink* And I think you're absolutely right about why this appeals.
( 11 comments — Leave a comment )