Archive | April 2012

Poetry Month: Poetry Memorization

“Children were no longer made to learn poetry by heart. And so the deep rhythms of the language, its inner music, was lost to them, because they had never had it embedded in their minds.”~Love Over Scotland by Alexander McCall Smith

A project for April, Poetry Month: Make a Memory Poem Book.

Poems for your memory poem book:
All Things Bright and Beautiful by Cecil Frances Alexander.

Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Daffodils by William Wordsworth.

The Children’s Hour by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Animal Crackers by Christopher Morley.

Time for Rabbits by Aileen Fisher.

Sea Fever by John Masefield.

A Prayer in Spring by Robert Frost.

Use any poem with vivid images that are easy for a child to draw and remember.

Poetry Month: Favorite Poets

“Poetry may not change the world, but its lack will.”~Carol Willette Bachofner

A few years ago during National Poetry Month a couple of bloggers were highlighting their favorite poets:

Stefanie at So Many Books says “Adrienne Rich is my favorite poet. . . . For Rich, poetry must be engaged with the world. Poetry is action and the poet must be committed to the act of poetry itself and the poem acting in the world.”

At The Common Room, The Headmistress gives us Phyllis McGinley: here, and here, and here, and here.

My favorite poet? Maybe Edgar Allan Poe. He and I love the sounds of words.
Or Robert Frost. He and I like stories, poetic stories.
Or Lewis Carroll. He and I like to laugh.

Who’s yours?

At the Favorite Poem Project you can watch video presentations of many diverse Americans’ favorite poems.
But do tell us here what your favorite is, too. In addition to naming your favorite poet, tell us the title of your favorite poem.

Poem #48, In Memoriam by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

“Poetry is emotion put into measure.”~Thomas Hardy

Tennyson’s friend, Arthur Henry Hallam, b. 1811, was the subject, upon his death in 1833 at the age of 22, of Tennyson’s famous poem In Memoriam. Hallam was engaged to Tennyson’s sister, Emilia, and he was Tennyson’s close friend. He died suddenly while travelling in Vienna of a brain hemorrhage. The poem wasn’t actually published until 1850; I guess it took Tennyson that long to work through his grief in poetic form over Hallam’s untimely death.

In Memoriam is written in four-line ABBA stanzas of iambic tetrameter, and such stanzas are now called In Memoriam Stanzas. It’s a long poem that traces Tennyson’s grieving over the course of at least three years. Here are a few of the most often quoted lines and stanzas of the poem:

'#25 January 1st week.' photo (c) 2009, next sentence - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;

Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

********************************

'Alfred Tennyson' photo (c) 2008, Preus  museum - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world’s altar-stairs
That slope thro’ darkness up to God,

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.

********************************

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

********************************

Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last — far off — at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.

So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.

********************************
'Oh MAN!' photo (c) 2005, Brian - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/
Man, her last work, who seem’d so fair,
Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
Who roll’d the psalm to wintry skies,
Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,

Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation’s final law–
Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek’d against his creed–

******************************
'santorini bells' photo (c) 2007, Owen Benson - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Tennyson struggles with doubt and grief and philosophical questions throughout the poem, but ends with faith in a God who hears his cries:

No, like a child in doubt and fear:
But that blind clamour made me wise;
Then was I as a child that cries,
But, crying, knows his father near;

And what I am beheld again
What is, and no man understands;
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro’ nature, moulding men.

Queen Victoria, after the death of her beloved husband Albert, said, “Next to the Bible, In Memoriam is my comfort.”

Read the entire poem.

Poem #47, Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe, 1849

“A wounded poet bleeds poetry.”~Richard Jesse Watson

And an insane poet bleeds crazy poetry? This poem was my very favorite poem in all the world, until I read this post several years ago at the blog of English professor Amanda Witt. Now it’s still one of my favorite poems, with a little bit of crazy mixed into my appreciation for the poet and his poem. I like the sound and the content, and if that makes me a little off-the-wall, I’m content to own the adjective.

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;–
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love,
I and my Annabel Lee–
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me–
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we–
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea–
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Kelly Fineman has a more positive and down-to-earth interpretation of Poe’s famous love poem.

Edie Hemingway’s middle grade novel Road to Tater Hill features the poem Annabel Lee as a sort of touchstone for the novel’s protagonist, whose name is also Annabel.

Justin at A Bit of Randomness agrees with Ms. Witt that Annabel Lee “gets a little creepy” when the narrator lies down next to a corpse! Adrienne also says that Poe Becomes a Lot More Disturbing After You’ve Lost a Spouse.

More Poe stuff at Semicolon.