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Poetry meme
When you see this, post your favorite poem in your journal.
Every time I see the poetry meme on my frieds list, I am momentarily tempted to post my actual favourite poem...which is very, very long and you'd hate me for making you scroll past it. But I shall show mercy and post another favourite instead.
I first came across this one in my teens, quoted in a trashy novel. The imagery just catches at my soul. In a way, this hits me in the same place as a good slash fic: not sex, but the tangle of emotions surrounding sex: angst and love and despair and desire all rolled up into a ball and wrapped in beautiful words. It's by Ernest Dowson...and I have no idea what the title means.
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee Cynara! in my fashion.
Every time I see the poetry meme on my frieds list, I am momentarily tempted to post my actual favourite poem...which is very, very long and you'd hate me for making you scroll past it. But I shall show mercy and post another favourite instead.
I first came across this one in my teens, quoted in a trashy novel. The imagery just catches at my soul. In a way, this hits me in the same place as a good slash fic: not sex, but the tangle of emotions surrounding sex: angst and love and despair and desire all rolled up into a ball and wrapped in beautiful words. It's by Ernest Dowson...and I have no idea what the title means.
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee Cynara! in my fashion.
no subject
'Cause it's Paradise Lost...I doubt the whole thing would fit in one post. Actually, I'm not sure any one of the books would fit in one post :-)
I dunno. Next time this meme rolls around I might pick out a passage or two. The passage in Hell when the demons escape the lake, or one of Satan's monologues in the Garden. But I can usually come up with an alternative.
Most of my faves are on the long side, though. The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes is one of my favourites, and there's a really long poem about a fox hunt Reynard's Last Run - I can never remember the poet.
no subject
Well, I found some links for you. If someone wants to read Paradise Lost, they can go to Paradise Lost online (http://www.online-literature.com/milton/paradiselost/)
I love The Highwayman. I have a sung version by Phil Ochs that I enjoy listening to, although he doesn't sing the complete poem.
The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes (1880-1958) (http://www.potw.org/archive/potw85.html)
And here, I think, is the other poem you mention. I love to Google. *g*
Reynard the Fox Or the Ghost Heath Run by John Masefield (http://www.btinternet.com/~countryside.webservice/masefield.htm#rey)