My Literature Awakening
Well apparently I ought to be sound asleep rite at this moment; however, since I'm waiting for my Bus254 notes to print...here I am...blogging as always when I can steal time hehe^.^So...I never realized I'm at the end of June~ (that's a congrad to me *patpat*)...in terms of reflections: yes...lots~
I am sure glad the month is almost done...yet I have to say the things I feared happened (i.e. horrible marks on midterms)...moreover, the things which I feared but shouldn't have happened ..happened...yet amist the dreary circumstances..there's always stolen moments of delight and pleasure (i.e. watching numerous movies and enjoying soccer games...so woot me~)
Yesyes~despite my reflections on the month of June (ending w/ my last midterm today/Monday <-- for me), let's talk about some Lit/Engl awakening ^.^ and the artist w/in me reminiscing old life~
1) So this happened some time this month....once upon an english tutorial/lecture....as the professor starts speaking about literature (actually I can't remember the specific thing she talked about...but I remember this), the romantic poet - Byron's name ringed my mind.....
Maybe it's b/c it's the summer season...or maybe I just regret so much not taking poetry ....
I miss literature and I miss reading poems from the romantic era.....and out of all romantic poetry...Byron's my favourite...especially this piece (this is a definite post lol~):
Apostrophe to the Ocean,' Lord Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar;
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can never express, yet cannot all conceal.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with. ruin . his control
Stops with the shore, upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan.
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.
His steps are not upon thy path, thy fields
Are not a spoil for him, thou dost arise
And shake him from thee; the vile strength lie wields
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies
His petty hope in some near port or bay,
And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay.
The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war?
These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee.
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters washed them power while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts, not so thou,
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play.
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow;
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempest; in all time,
Calm or convulsed in breeze, or gale or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving boundless, endless, and sublime;
The image of eternity, the throne
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Obeys thee, thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
And I loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers?they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror??twas a pleasing fear,
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane as I do here.
Wow ...took me quite sometime to find this poem online...(and I apologize for the question marks...I can't remember what words they are to fill them in...considering I read this in gr. 11 hehe~) But yesyes..this is still my fav poem~~~ and probably will always be.....I don't understand why I love this so much...but whenever reading it....a mixture of freedom, pleasure, sadness possess me.....I feel like becoming one with the ocean (eventhough this is probaly quite impossible for someone like me who doesn't swim lol~)
So yesyes..this is it for now...w/ this poem I'll end my literature awakening... I still wish I took poetry instead of university writing....sigh*...More poems to come later when I have another lit. awakening^.^
posted by Lulu @ 1:41 AM
1 Comments:
lol, could totally understand ur feeling, tho this poem wasn't my fav, i still liked it a lot too~i lov how poems can get u into an enchanting, entirely different world~
share another i rili liked, that guy who wrote "lady in shalott"=P
Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson
Blow, Bugle, blow
THE splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
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