O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the Amen ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes:
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like the mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.
I often find myself returning to Keats, and I think it's due to the lush beauty of his imagery. I know of no better description of sleep. Instead of boring myself with details, I'm going to let the poem do most of the speaking. I'd only like to add that the twinge of mortality the dying Keats added to the poem's ending with, "And seal the hushed casket of my soul" makes me shiver every time. It's lovely and chilling.
As a side note, Keats makes me feel crushingly unaccomplished. Dead by 25, and forever remembered as one of the greatest poets writing in the English language. Amazing.
Showing posts with label John Keats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Keats. Show all posts
Friday, July 22, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
On First Looking into Chapman's Homer - John Keats
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific - and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise -
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Continuing last night's exploration of poetry that looks at other art, we have Keats, talking about the experience he had upon first opening George Chapman's translation of the Iliad. The structure of the poem is two-fold: The beginning lines set up a Homeric parallel between Keats and Odysseus, and the ending of the poem recreates the experience by comparing it to an experience of discovery.
In presenting himself as a lost wanderer, who experiences the joys of the world upon opening Chapman's translation, Keats is marking the journey between lost and found. Once that transition happens, Keats' language suddenly explodes into the realm of the "loud and bold." He compares the discovery to that of a new planet, which is a momentous and incredible thing to grasp.
The effect of all these comparisons is to express in poetry the wonder of discovering poetry that was previously inaccessible. Poetry seems to be the right method of expressing this, as it is a joyful form, filled with discovery on the part of the reader. Really, for me, this is just a breathtaking poem of revelatory joy. It's like standing at the precipice of a mountain and surveying the incredible horizon.
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific - and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise -
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Continuing last night's exploration of poetry that looks at other art, we have Keats, talking about the experience he had upon first opening George Chapman's translation of the Iliad. The structure of the poem is two-fold: The beginning lines set up a Homeric parallel between Keats and Odysseus, and the ending of the poem recreates the experience by comparing it to an experience of discovery.
In presenting himself as a lost wanderer, who experiences the joys of the world upon opening Chapman's translation, Keats is marking the journey between lost and found. Once that transition happens, Keats' language suddenly explodes into the realm of the "loud and bold." He compares the discovery to that of a new planet, which is a momentous and incredible thing to grasp.
The effect of all these comparisons is to express in poetry the wonder of discovering poetry that was previously inaccessible. Poetry seems to be the right method of expressing this, as it is a joyful form, filled with discovery on the part of the reader. Really, for me, this is just a breathtaking poem of revelatory joy. It's like standing at the precipice of a mountain and surveying the incredible horizon.
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