The Top 500 Poems: 500-401

Saffron · Fri Feb 26, 2010 7:37 pm

DWill & Oblivion, the two of you have run off to play without me. The book is in my lap and I've got my glasses on. I am determined to catch up to the two of you. First, an observation. A very striking difference between much of late 18th and early 19th century poetry and 20th century poetry is the formality and impersonal nature of the earlier poems. The poems of the 18th & first 1/2 of the 19th century one has the sense that the poet is just telling the story or observing and reporting. This is what makes Emily Dickinson so amazing. Her poetry is so personal and intimate. One almost feels like a voyeur at times. The poetry of Dickinson is some of my favorite and I tend to like poetry that is intimate -- where I feel that I am peeking inside the poet. However, I am enjoying reading some of the poems in the 490s and 480s; the Romantics, I guess. I sort of like Gilbert's The Yarn of the Nancy Bell.

I've re-read Rossetti's The Woodspurge a few times and you know, I have to admit, I like her better as a poet now.

Better off I be, lots to go, lots to go, before I catch thee. (okay, roll your eyes).

Saffron · Fri Feb 26, 2010 8:02 pm


	DWill wrote: We've hit a rough patch, I fear. I really can't see posting that many of the next 10 or so, but if anyone's interested, they're all on the 'net.

All ten not so bad. I really enjoyed the image and rhymes in Snow-Bound; A Winter Idyl. Especially the following lines:

While, peering from his early perch,
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
The cock his crested helmet bent
An down his querulous challenge sent.

It seems to me you posted about this poem just as we in the Mid-Atlantic were being buried under 2 feet of snow.

Definitely could have done without Longfellow's Chaucer. Didn't mind I Remember, I Remember. I rather liked:
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,

It really does capture how heavy it can feel to be an adult and how much lighter, looking back at least, it was to be a child.

Saffron · Fri Feb 26, 2010 8:30 pm


	DWill wrote: 475. "Adonais," by Shelley. This is Shelley's pastoral elegy on the death of Keats, and I happen to intensely dislike it! It "praises" Keats but makes him out to be something weak and wispy. It is entirely OTT as well. Go read Milton's "Lycidas" instead (which, come to think of it, we will if this goes on).

I gave the Shelley a tried just because, but will go with your assessment -- not worth reading. I did go digging a bit and found this on Wikipedia -- for what it is worth.


	Quote: Shelley was introduced to Keats in Hampstead towards the end of 1816 by their mutual friend, Leigh Hunt, who was to transfer his enthusiasm from Keats to Shelley. Shelley's huge admiration of Keats was not entirely reciprocated. Keats had reservations about Shelley's dissolute behaviour, and found some of Shelley's advice patronising (the suggestion, for example, that Keats should not publish his early work). It is also possible that Keats resented Hunt's transferred allegiance. Despite this, the two poets exchanged letters when Shelley and his wife moved to Italy. When Keats fell ill, the Shelleys invited him to stay with them in Pisa but Keats elected to travel with Severn. Despite this rebuff, Shelley's affection for Keats remained undimmed until his death in 1822 when a copy of Keats' works was found in a pocket on his drowned body. Shelley said of Keats, after inviting him to stay with him in Pisa after Keats fell ill: "I am aware indeed that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me and this is an additional motive & will be an added pleasure."

Saffron · Fri Feb 26, 2010 8:46 pm

Another observation -- The poems in this collection and I can assume in most anthologies, since these poems have been include because they are the 500 most anthologized, are predominantly masculine in tone and content. I guess the guys were in charge in the publishing business. I do miss hearing an occasional feminine voice or even something not so stereotypically male.

oblivion · Sat Feb 27, 2010 3:43 am


	Saffron wrote: Another observation -- The poems in this collection and I can assume in most anthologies, since these poems have been include because they are the 500 most anthologized, are predominantly masculine in tone and content. I guess the guys were in charge in the publishing business. I do miss hearing an occasional feminine voice or even something not so stereotypically male.

Saffron, this is exactly what I was talking about when I mentioned Felicia Hemens. The canon were indeed a male domain and writing was considered non-acceptable for women. If women did write, however, it was looked on as inferior and as something a child would write and therefore be accepted in a "ah, isn't that cute! The little one is trying to write" attitude. Even our Emily had problems with this attitude--writing letters was acceptable but that was about it. Her father and her environment did not approve.
Only recently when studies in Women's Lit, Feminist Studies, etc began appearing, did academics in the field start digging underneath the surface and found some really good "stuff" by women authors. In the case of Women Romantic Writers, this literally happened in the last minute before the writings went into, uh, oblivion.
One of the ideas of males dominating in the Romantic period is that the woman was simply there to be had; it was the man who suffered by being refused, by being ill, by being the "lone wolf", etc. Women's emotion was simply whiny, tearful fainting spells and did not run deep. It was men who had the true, the real emotions. Ha! If one reads what some of these women went through, here again using our Felicia as an example, they went through emotional and intellectual hell and back, did without formal education or training, ran a household--and still produced brilliant poetry. They usually did not enjoy the luxury of being well-appointed and not even having to work for a living.
So, got off on a tangent there. Apologies.
And nice to have you back joining our play period, Saffron. You brought along fine toys!

Saffron · Sat Feb 27, 2010 7:51 am


	oblivion wrote: So, got off on a tangent there. Apologies. And nice to have you back joining our play period, Saffron. You brought along fine toys!

No apologies necessary. I always like the added information and side tangents. I am aware of the 19th century culture attitudes toward women and writing -- I love Eliot (Mary Anne Evans) and have read The Yellow Wallpaper several times. What gets me is that this tread continues into the 20th century. There are many, many wonderful, brilliant women writers by the early 20th: H.D. Doolittle, Amy Lowell, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, May Swenson, Marianne Moore, Adrienne Rich and many more that are less well known.

DWill · Sat Feb 27, 2010 8:15 am


	Saffron wrote: I gave the Shelley a tried just because, but will go with your assessment -- not worth reading. I did go digging a bit and found this on Wikipedia -- for what it is worth.

That was very generous of Shelley, and I didn't know or remember that he had been so magnanimous toward Keats. Keats also gave advice to Shelley in a letter, which was for the older poet to be less restrained with imagery but instead "to load every rift with ore." Keats and Shelley were long associated for some reason, and I think The Keats-Shelley Journal still exists. I probably lack an adequate appreciation of Shelley.

You don't fool around when you play catch-up, by the way. Welcome back! You've even done extra credit, actually reading the Nancy whatever poem.

DWill · Sat Feb 27, 2010 8:19 am


	oblivion wrote: One of the ideas of males dominating in the Romantic period is that the woman was simply there to be had; it was the man who suffered by being refused, by being ill, by being the "lone wolf", etc. Women's emotion was simply whiny, tearful fainting spells and did not run deep. It was men who had the true, the real emotions. Ha! If one reads what some of these women went through, here again using our Felicia as an example, they went through emotional and intellectual hell and back, did without formal education or training, ran a household--and still produced brilliant poetry. They usually did not enjoy the luxury of being well-appointed and not even having to work for a living. So, got off on a tangent there. Apologies. And nice to have you back joining our play period, Saffron. You brought along fine toys!

Good tangent, though. I would have thought that it was perhaps in the Romantic period when things started to free up, in terms of women being allowed more of a voice. But then in the Victorian era I picture things closing up again. This is just a notion, no doubt inaccurate and oversimplified.

Saffron · Sat Feb 27, 2010 8:48 am


	DWill wrote: Good tangent, though. I would have thought that it was perhaps in the Romantic period when things started to free up, in terms of women being allowed more of a voice. But then in the Victorian era I picture things closing up again. This is just a notion, no doubt inaccurate and oversimplified.

The British Victorian period and the Romantic period in the arts overlap just about completely; with the Romantic period beginning some 50 years or so before the crowning of Queen Victoria. In the publishing world I do not think things began to shift much until the very late 1800s, at least in the USA. I suspect it was the Woman suffrage movement, that really got going after the Civil War, that is responsible for the changes in USA culture that allow for women to finally get heard.

I'll bring it back to The Top 500 Poems. I think this collection is somewhat (maybe a lot) skewed. The book was published in 1992. The poems are those most anthologized over the past, what 100 years or so. Women were not really accepted or published until the early 1900's and even then not only in small numbers. It is not really until mid-century that you can find lots of female poets getting published. I gave it a cursory look, but can't find actual numbers. However, I did find and interesting article on perceptions of poets and poetry readers in the 21st century. It is an excerpt from a longer article. I will post links to both.

writersdigest.com/article/The_21st_Cent ... tury_Poet/

A study done by The Poetry Foundation and published in 2006. The link will open to an overview, with sidebar links to more.

poetryfoundation.org/foundation/initiat ... erica.html

DWill · Sat Feb 27, 2010 8:37 pm


	Saffron wrote: I'll bring it back to The Top 500 Poems. I think this collection is somewhat (maybe a lot) skewed. The book was published in 1992. The poems are those most anthologized over the past, what 100 years or so. Women were not really accepted or published until the early 1900's and even then not only in small numbers. It is not really until mid-century that you can find lots of female poets getting published. I gave it a cursory look, but can't find actual numbers. However, I did find and interesting article on perceptions of poets and poetry readers in the 21st century. It is an excerpt from a longer article. I will post links to both.

I think when I counted a ways back, 14 woman poets, out of 140 in Harmon's edition, were included. Of the 12 poets represented by 10 or more poems, only one was female, Dickinson.

And the oldies just keep on comin':

458. "Alexander's Feast," by John Dryden. (Skip)

457. "The Grasshopper," by Richard Lovelace

O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear
Of some well-filled oaten beard,
Drunk ev'ry night with a delicious tear
Dropped thee from heav'n, where now th' art reared,

The joys of earth and air are thine entire,
That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly;
And, when the poppy works, thou dost retire
To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.

Up with the day, the sun thou welcom'st then,
Sport'st in the gilt plats of his beams,
And all these merry days mak'st merry men,
Thyself, and melancholy streams.

But ah the sickle!—golden ears are cropped;
Ceres and Bacchus bid good-night;
Sharp frosty fingers all your flow'rs have topped,
And what schythes spared, winds shave off quite.

Poor verdant fool! and now green ice!—thy joys,
Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass,
Bid us lay in 'gainst winter rain, and poise
Their floods with an o'erflowing glass.

Thou best of men and friends! we will create
A genuine summer in each other's breast;
And spite of this cold time and frozen fate,
Thaw us a warm seat to our rest.

Our sacred hearths shall burn eternally
As vestal flames; the North-wind, he
Shall strike his frost-stretched wings, dissolve, and fly
This Etna in epitome.

Dropping December shall come weeping in,
Bewail th' usurping of his reign;
But when in show'rs of old Greek we begin,
Shall cry he hath his crown again!

Night as clear Hesper shall our tapers whip
From the light casements where we play,
And the dark hag from her black mantle strip,
And stick there everlasting day.

Thus richer than untempted kings are we,
That asking nothing, nothing need:
Though lord of all that seas embrace, yet he
That wants himself is poor indeed.

456. "To His Inconstant Mistress," by Thomas Carew

To His Inconstant Mistress

WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate
From all the joys of Love, shalt see
The full reward and glorious fate
Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
Then curse thine own inconstancy! 5

A fairer hand than thine shall cure
That heart which thy false oaths did wound;
And to my soul a soul more pure
Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound,
And both with equal glory crown'd. 10

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain
To Love, as I did once to thee;
When all thy tears shall be as vain
As mine were then: for thou shalt be
Damn'd for thy false apostasy. 15

Saffron · Sat Feb 27, 2010 9:17 pm

Extra, extra: I found this on The Poetry Foundation's site -- it goes under the title: To My Noble Friend, Mr. Charles Cotton

457. "The Grasshopper," by Richard Lovelace

I am missing something here. I see that in the beginning of the poem it is summer and the grasshopper fits in, but once it is winter where did the grasshopper go??? I guess what I am saying is why the title?

I did think this a very nice sentiment and worth reading the poem for:

Thou best of men and friends! we will create
A genuine summer in each other's breast;
And spite of this cold time and frozen fate,
Thaw us a warm seat to our rest.

Our sacred hearths shall burn eternally
As vestal flames; the North-wind, he
Shall strike his frost-stretched wings, dissolve, and fly
This Etna in epitome.

HELP! What does the line in bold mean? I can't seem to find it anywhere. Could it mean Mount Etna???

456. "To His Inconstant Mistress," by Thomas Carew

All I can say to this one is, he sure told her! :lol:

DWill · Sat Feb 27, 2010 11:26 pm

Yeah, this poem is just weird. Does this explanation I found help? It doesn't explain "Etna in epitome," which may be the same as volcano in miniature.

A fable?
This is a curious poem. The first half is a fable – a moral story using animals and insects to make the point. The traditional fable is about the grasshopper and the ant, who has stored up for the winter, rather than wasting his time in the summer messing about like the grasshopper. Instead, here we have a picture of these two friends enjoying themselves during the winter in front of an open fire, reading Greek to each other and generally behaving like cultured and well-educated gentlemen. They will ‘create/ A Genuine Summer in each other's breast’.

The fable does not quite work, then, since we have no evidence that the two friends have been storing aside the necessities of life during the summer. Presumably, as gentlemen, their wealth is inherited, probably their country estates that other people have been working on. In another sense, however, they have been storing up – not in a material sense, but in a cultural one. The word ‘cultivate’ is ambiguous, as it can refer to growing food, but also ‘growing’ the mind to become ‘cultured’.

A classical education
This is what the two friends have done. They have become cultured through a good classical education, and now they are reaping the benefits of it. The classical education is the sub-text. The ‘Ode’ is based on the odes of the Latin poet, Horace, whose idea of the good life was a quiet country retirement with a few like-minded friends, like these two. References to Roman civilisation abound (Latin being the language the ancient Romans spoke): ‘sacred hearths ... Vestall Flames’ (the Romans believed in gods of the hearth); ‘Aetna’ (a volcano, here a hyperbole for their roaring fire); ‘Hesper’,the goddess of the evening, and so on.

The final stanza is the fitting gentlemanly conclusion for this: ‘he/That wants himselfe, is poore indeed’. To ‘want’ in this sense means ‘to lack’. If we cannot accept ourselves and enjoy our own company, then we are truly poor. The same sort of paradox is found in the To Althea, from Prison poem also analysed here: the inner state is what matters. This is where true riches lie.

Saffron · Sat Feb 27, 2010 11:32 pm

Thanks, DW. That did the trick. Funny, it made me like the poem less -- oh, well.

oblivion · Sun Feb 28, 2010 3:18 am


	Saffron wrote: Extra, extra: I found this on The Poetry Foundation's site -- it goes under the title: To My Noble Friend, Mr. Charles Cotton 457. "The Grasshopper," by Richard Lovelace I am missing something here. I see that in the beginning of the poem it is summer and the grasshopper fits in, but once it is winter where did the grasshopper go??? I guess what I am saying is why the title? I did think this a very nice sentiment and worth reading the poem for: Thou best of men and friends! we will create A genuine summer in each other's breast; And spite of this cold time and frozen fate, Thaw us a warm seat to our rest. Our sacred hearths shall burn eternally As vestal flames; the North-wind, he Shall strike his frost-stretched wings, dissolve, and fly This Etna in epitome. HELP! What does the line in bold mean? I can't seem to find it anywhere. Could it mean Mount Etna???

If I understand this correctly (hmmmmmmm), Etna is indeed meant as the volcano, referring to the sacred hearths which in return refer to the genuine summer in each other's breast. The heat of each other, of sacred hearths, of summer, would thus be always sitting there, awaiting the next volatile eruption and extinguishing any cold winds (symbolic) that come near it.

Uh, possibly, maybe, perhaps, could be.......!

DWill · Sun Feb 28, 2010 8:27 am


	Saffron wrote: Thanks, DW. That did the trick. Funny, it made me like the poem less -- oh, well.

Isn't that funny? I thought such a prosaic explanation detracted from the poem, too.

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