Matthew Arnold

YES: in the sea of life enisled,

With echoing straits between us thrown.

Dotting the shoreless watery wild,

We mortal millions live alone.

     The islands feel the enclasping flow,

And then their endless bounds they know.

.

But when the moon their hollows lights,

And they are swept by balms of spring,

And in their glens, on starry nights,

The nightingales divinely sing;

And lovely notes, from shore to shore,

Across the sounds and channels pour;

.

O then a longing like despair

Is to their farthest caverns sent!

—For surely once, they feel, we were

Parts of a single continent.

Now round us spreads the watery plain—

O might our marges meet again!

.

Who order’d that their longing’s fire

Should be, as soon as kindled, cool’d?

Who renders vain their deep desire?—

     A God, a God their severance ruled;

And bade betwixt their shores to be

The unplumb’d, salt, estranging sea.

……..

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The poem was first published with the title To Marguerite, in Returning a Volume of the Letters of Ortis in 1852 in a volume titled Empedocles on Etna and other Poems, published anonymously. The volume is very scarce and was withdrawn from circulation before fifty copies were sold. In 1857, the poem was published as To Marguerite: Continued, a sequel to the poem Isolation: To Marguerite.¹

……

The punctuation and formatting used for the poem on this page is from an 1896 compilation of Arnold’s poetry.²

…

Glossary

• Enisl’d; ​to make into an island
• Enclasping: ​to clasp or hold in an embrace
• Balms: ​a substance which soothes
• Marges: ​edges, margins
• Severance: ​breaking apart
• Bade: ​ordered
• Betwixt: ​between
• Unplumb’d: ​a depth which cannot be measured
• Estranging: ​pushing apart

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References and Interpretations

• Wikipedia
• GradeSaver
• enotes

Biographical information on Matthew Arnold

• Wikipedia
• Poetry Foundation
• Encyclopaedia Britannica
• poets.org
• New World Encyclopedia
• Encyclopedia.com
• enotes

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1. Elliott & Fry. Matthew Arnold. c. 1883. National Portait Gallery, London. In National Portrai Gallery.
   Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0)
2. To Marguerite: Continued. Wikipedia. last edit February 02, 2016. Accessed July 11, 2019.
3. Arnold, Matthew. To Margurite, In Returning a Volume of the Letters of Ortis. In Alaric at Rome: And Other Poems, edited by Clement K. Shorter, 170. London: Ward, Lock & Bowden, 1896.

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Matthew Arnold
(from Empedocles on Etna¹)

Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,

Thick breaks the red flame.

All Etna heaves fiercely

Her forest-clothed frame.

⋅

Not here, O Apollo!

Are haunts meet for thee.

But, where Helicon breaks down

In cliff to the sea.

⋅

Where the moon-silver’d inlets

Send far their light voice

Up the still vale of Thisbe,

O speed, and rejoice!

⋅

On the sward at the cliff-top,

Lie strewn the white flocks;

On the cliff-side, the pigeons

Roost deep in the rocks.

⋅

In the moonlight the shepherds,

Soft lull’d by the rills,

Lie wrapt in their blankets,

Asleep on the hills.

⋅

—What forms are these coming

So white through the gloom?

What garments out-glistening

The gold-flower’d broom?

⋅

What sweet-breathing Presence

Out-perfumes the thyme?

What voices enrapture

The night’s balmy prime?—

⋅

‘Tis Apollo comes leading

His choir, The Nine.

—The Leader is fairest,

But all are divine.

⋅

They are lost in the hollows.

They stream up again.

What seeks on this mountain

The glorified train?—

⋅

They bathe on this mountain,

In the spring by their road.

Then on to Olympus,

Their endless abode.
⋅

—Whose praise do they mention,

Of what is it told?—

What will be for ever.

What was from of old.

⋅

First hymn they the Father

Of all things: and then,

The rest of Immortals,

The action of men.

⋅

The Day in his hotness,

The strife with the palm;

The Night in her silence,

The Stars in their calm.

 

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Biographical information on Matthew Arnold

• Wikipedia
• Poetry Foundation
• Encyclopaedia Britannica
• poets.org
• New World Encyclopedia
• Encyclopedia.com
• enotes

 

 

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Sir Walter Scott

River Greta, near Brignall, County Durham. Great Britain¹

(From Rokeby, A Poem,² page 125)

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Footnotes

1. Cunningham, Paul. River Greta, Nearr Brignall. April 16, 2014. In Geograph. June 7, 2014. Accessed June 29, 2019. https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/4016701. licensed for reuse under (CC BY-SA 2.0) Creative Commons License (Note, that license and its provisions also applies to the image as used here.)
2. Scott, Walter. Rokeby; A Poem. John Ballentine and Co., Edinburgh, 1813.
3. (From Rokeby, page xxix) What follows is an attempt to describe the romantic glen, or rather ravine, through which the Greta finds a passage between Rokeby and Mortham, the former situated upon the left bank of Greta, the latter on the right bank, about half a mile nearer to its junction with the Tees. The river runs with very great rapidity over a bed of solid rock, broken by many shelving descents, down which the stream dashes with great noise and impetuosity, vindicating its etymology, which has been derived from the Gothic, gridan, to clamour. The banks partake of the same wild and romantic character, being chiefly lofty cliffs of limestone rock, whose grey colour contrasts admirably with the various trees and shrubs which find root among their crevices, as well as with the hue of the ivy, which clings around them in profusion, and hangs down from their .projections in long sweeping tendrils. At other points the rocks give place to precipitous banks of earth, bearing large trees, intermixed with copse-wood. In one spot the dell, which is elsewhere very narrow, widens for a space to leave room for a dark grove of yew-trees, intermixed here and there with aged pines of uncommon size. Directly opposite to this sombre thicket, the cliffs on the other side of the Greta are tall, white, and fringed with all kinds of deciduous shrubs. The whole scenery of this spot is so much adapted to the ideas of superstition, that it has acquired the name of Blockula, from the place where the Swedish witches were supposed to hold their sabbath. The dell, however, has superstitions of its own growth, for it is supposed to be haunted by a female spectre, called the Dobie of Mortham. The cause assigned for her appearance is a lady’s having been whilom murdered in the wood, in evidence of which her blood is shewn upon the stairs of the old tower at Mortham. But whether she was slain by a jealous husband or by savage banditti, or by an uncle who coveted her estate, or by a rejected lover, are points upon which the traditions of Rokeby do not enable us to decide.
4. Raeburn, Sir Henry. “Sir Walter Scott.” Wikimedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 4 Mar. 2013, National Galleries of Scotland, Edinburgh, UK, commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sir_Henry_Raeburn_-_Portrait_of_Sir_Walter_Scott.jpg.

Biographical information on Sir Walter Scott

• Wikipedia
• Encyclopaedia Britannica
• Historic UK
• Abbotsford
• Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

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Emily Dickinson

I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I’m some accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though—

I thought if I could only live
Till that first Shout got by—
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me—

I dared not meet the Daffodils—
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own—

I wished the Grass would hurry—
So—when ’twas time to see—
He’d be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch—to look at me—

I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they’d stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?

They’re here, though; not a creature failed—
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me—
The Queen of Calvary—

Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgement
Of their unthinking Drums—

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References and Interpretations

• Beaming Notes
• Bartleby Research

Biographical information on Emily Dickenson

• Wikipedia
• Poetry Foundation
• Emily Dickenson Museum
• Poets.org
• Encyclopaedia Britannica

Image credits and info

• Cowasaki636. “Robin-Bird-Birding-2551440.” Pixabay, 29 July 2017, pixabay.com/photos/robin-bird-birding-2551440/. accessed June 27, 2019
  • Image modified using Canva, adjusted opacity and added text
• Emily Dickinson. “I Dreaded That First Robin, So.” Amherst Digital Collections , acdc.amherst.edu/view/asc:17618. (accessed June 27, 2019)

2 versions
Anonymous

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Version 1

The king sits in Dunfermline toune
Drinking the blude reid wine,
‘O whar will I get skeely sailor,
To sail this ship o’ mine?’

Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That sails upon the se.’

The king has written a braid letter,
And signed it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

To Noroway! to Noroway!
to Noroway oer the faem!
The king’s daughter to Noroway
‘Tis thou maun bring her hame.

The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.

‘O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o’ the yeir,
To sail upon the se! ‘

‘Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men,
Our guid ship sails the morne:’
‘O say na sae, my master deir,
I feir a deadlie storme.

‘Yestereen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my master deir ,
That we will cum to harme.’

O loth, o loth,
The Scots lords were
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a’ the play were playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.

O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi their fans into their hand,
Or ere they se Sir Patrick Spens
Cum sailing to the strand.

O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they’ll se thame na mair.

Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It’s fiftie fadom deip,
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

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Version 2

I. The Sailing
THE king sits in Dunfermline town
Drinking the blude-red wine;
‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship o’ mine?’

O up and spak an eldern knight,
Sat at the king’s right knee;
‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sail’d the sea.’

Our king has written a braid letter,
And seal’d it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

‘To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway o’er the faem;
The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,
‘Tis thou must bring her hame.’

The first word that Sir Patrick read
So loud, loud laugh’d he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read
The tear blinded his e’e.

‘O wha is this has done this deed
And tauld the king o’ me,
To send us out, at this time o’ year,
To sail upon the sea?

‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,
‘Tis we must fetch her hame.’

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn
Wi’ a’ the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway
Upon a Wodensday.

II. The Return

‘Mak ready, mak ready, my merry men a’!
Our gude ship sails the morn.’
‘Now ever alack, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm.

‘I saw the new moon late yestreen
Wi’ the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we’ll come to harm.’

They hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.

The ankers brak, and the topmast lap,
It was sic a deadly storm:
And the waves cam owre the broken ship
Till a’ her sides were torn.

‘Go fetch a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And wap them into our ship’s side,
And let nae the sea come in.’

They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side,
But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords
To wet their cork-heel’d shoon;
But lang or a’ the play was play’d
They wat their hats aboon.

And mony was the feather bed
That flatter’d on the faem;
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair cam hame.

O lang, lang may the ladies sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!

And lang, lang may the maidens sit
Wi’ their gowd kames in their hair,
A-waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they’ll see nae mair.

Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour,
‘Tis fifty fathoms deep;
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!

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“Sir Patrick Spens” is one of the most popular of the Child Ballads (No. 58) (Roud 41), and is of Scottish origin. It is a maritime ballad about a disaster at sea.  Wikipedia

References and Interpretations

• Wikipedia
• Representative Poetry Online – University of Toronto Libraries
• enotes
• Encyclopedia.com

Image Credit

• Oil on canvas, ‘The Wreck‘, Knud-Andreassen Baade, Norwegian school, 1830s-1840s, Victoria and Albert Museum
• Sir Patrick Spens stained glass window, Abbot House Dunfermline, Wikimedia,  photo by Kim Traynor, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

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(A Bird came down the Walk¹)

Emily Dickinson

A bird came down the walk:

He did not know I saw;

He bit an angle-worm in halves

And ate the fellow, raw.

⋅

And then he drank a dew

From a convenient grass,

And then hopped sidewise to the wall

To let a beetle pass.

⋅

He glanced with rapid eyes

That hurried all abroad,—

They looked like frightened beads, I thought;

He stirred his velvet head

⋅

Like one in danger; cautious,

I offered him a crumb,

And he unrolled his feathers

And rowed him softer home

⋅

Than oars divide the ocean,

Too silver for a seam,

Or butterflies, off banks of noon,

Leap, plashless,¹ as they swim.

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Online early versions

• Emily Dickenson Archive
• Higginson, T. W. (1891, October). Emily Dickenson’s Letters. The Atlantic, 68.
• Higginson, T. W., & Todd, M. L. (Eds.). (1920). Poems by Emily Dickenson (Second Series). Boston: Little Brown, and Company.

References and Interpretations

• sparknotes
• enotes
• Bartleby Research
• Pen & the Pad
• Wikipedia

Biographical information on Emily Dickenson

• Wikipedia
• Poetry Foundation
• Emily Dickenson Museum
• Poets.org
• Encyclopaedia Britannica

All of these sources were accessed June 25, 2019.

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1. Punctuation and titles – The original 1862 poem had no title, very little punctuation, and unconventional capitalization.  In its first publication, Emily Dickenson’s Letters, T. W. Higginson gave it the benefit of “ordinary usages” of punctuation.  A title, In the Garden, was added in a 1920 publication edited by Thomas Wentworth Higginson and  ‎Mabel Loomis Todd.
2. plashless, adv. Smoothly; fluidly; deftly; elegantly; gracefully; in a flowing manner; without splashing; without disturbing the surface of the water. – Emily Dickinson Lexicon; Brigham Young University (accessed June 25, 2019)

Image credit: Pixabay image 114895 by SimonaR

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Percy Bysshe Shelley

I MET a Traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

The Ozymandias Colossus¹

Draft of Ozymandias (above) with transcript(below)²

1817 fair copy

First Publication³

1819 Publication⁴

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References and Interpretations

• An introduction to ‘Ozymandias’ – Discovering Literature: Romantics & Victorians, The British Library (accessed June 22, 2019)
• Wikipedia (accessed June 22, 2019)
• Poetry Foundation
• sparknotes
• New York Public Library

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1. The Ozymandias Colossus – Image on Flickr by Christopher Michel; Some rights reserved
2. 1817 draft of Ozymandias – Bodleian Library, Oxford, UK
3. 11 January 1818 issue of The Examiner
4. Shelley’s collection Rosalind and Helen, A Modern Eclogue; with Other Poems (1819)
   

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Robert Frost

SOME say the world will end in fire;
             Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
        But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
        To know that for destruction ice
Is also great,
        And would suffice.

Burning ice cubes on black background, DAPA Images, from Canva.com

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References and Interpretations

• Owlcation
• Wikipedia
• sparknotes
• Encyclopedia.com

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William Shakespeare

SHall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
         So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
         So long lives this and this gives life to thee

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References and interpretations:

• Shakespeare’s Sonnets
• Wikipedia
• sparknotes
  • with modern text “translation”
• Poetry Foundation
• poets.org

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