Percy Bysshe Shelley

Shelley’s “Ozymandias” is a very interesting poem, because it says much about the differences between how people wish to be remember and how history actually remembers them. The footnote tells readers that Ozymandias is another name for Ramses II, a great pharaoh of Egypt. During the times of their reigns, pharaohs wee seen as all-powerful god-kings, and that is the legacy that Ramses would have wished to have left behind. He would have wished his people to remember all of the many things he did throughout his reign This is how a the sculptor from Shelley‘s poem captured Ramses. A face segment from a statue of Ramses is depicted in the sand as “a shattered visage lies, whose frown / And wrinkled lip, an sneer of cold command, / Tell that its sculptor well those passions read“ (399; ll. 4-6). There is even a quotation given by the god-kings commanding how he is to be remembered. The broken pedestal of the stature dictates “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” (399; ll. 10-11). This was his wish and command; however, history seems to have painted a totally different picture of this supposed god-king. He is often remembered as the pharaoh defeated by Moses who was forced to release the slaves of Egypt. This is quite a stretch from original command. The scene illustrated by Shelley also tells readers history has shown this pharoah very little respect by depicting the statue as “shattered,” (399; ll. 4) and full of “decay” (399; ll. 12). Shelley also calls the once mighty statue a “colossal Wreck,” (399; ll. 13) demonstrating that all of Ramses’ so-called might has accounted for absolutely nothing according to history. All of his power has meant nothing after his death. He and his memory have been scattered to the wind against his every command. There is no way to determine how history will remember a person, and so there is not much point in trying. A person must live out his life to the best of his ability and hope that history remembers him kindly, if he is remembered at all.

Elliot

“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” is definitely one of my favorite poems, because there is never a dull moment. The intrigue begins in the very epigraph of the poem. The epigraph does not seem to be a very important passage from Dante’s Inferno, but it does leave many questions in the minds of readers. Why did Elliot select this particular passage? I believe it has much to do with the themes of futility and despair that are prevalent throughout the entire piece. It often seems that the narrator carries about him a defeatist attitude, which is preempted by the epigraph. There seems to be no joy at all in Elliot’s tone in the beginning of the poem when he speaks “Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels / And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: / Streets that follow like a tedious argument” (1195; ll. 6-8). He is totally disinterested in the world overall, as apparently are most others who are oblivious to things around them. Elliot makes a repeated comment about people’s ignorance and apathy to what is going on around them by saying “In the room the women come and go / Talking of Michelangelo” (1195; ll. 13-14). People all around these women (including our narrator) are suffering somehow, yet the most important thing in the world to them is Michelangelo. Even after his long descriptions of seemingly awful conditions, their only concern still is Michelangelo. This is very powerful commentary that speaks volumes about people’s major concerns. People do not concern themselves with the condition of the environment or the people around them. Instead they converse about totally inconsequential things, like Michelangelo. The other people in the poem seem only to be concerned with superficial and esthetic aspects of life. Several times he comments on what the people will say about him. First he says, “(They will say: ‘How his hair is growing thin!’),” (1195; ll. 41) and then he says, “(They will say: ‘But how his arms and legs are thin!’),” (1195; ll. 44) but these are not the only things growing thin. The narrator’s character is obviously thinning because of the way he worries about what the superficial people will say.
Because of the disconcert of others, it seems, unfortunately, as though Elliot has given in to despair in this poem, as it is obvious he struggles to find any sort of deep meaning in his own life. He feels as though his life is nothing more than a series of motions. This is apparent through how he measures his life. He says “ For I have known them all already, known them all-- / Have known the evenings, mornings, and afternoons, / I have measured out my life in coffee spoons;” (1195; ll. 49-51). He finds no joy in anything and obviously see most of his actions as totally meaningless. Nothing but despair could be used to describe these feelings. The narrator is such a lost figure that it is unsure if he will ever find himself again. It is an incredibly sad, but extremely moving piece that to me points out a sincere need to never give up hope in ourselves or each other.

WWI

It is difficult to find the good in something as terrible as a war, and yet such wonderful works of writing and art stem from effects of WWI. I shudder to think that without the advent of WWI, the writings of Elliot and Pound may have never come into existence. It is a dreadful occurrence; however, without it the mentality of people throughout the world may have never been changed. When I think back to the nineteenth century, a myriad of images flashes before me, most of them having to do with progress. Indeed the nineteenth century saw progress in scores, but everyone at that particular time stuck to the ideal that all of that progress was for the good. There was a certain amount of naivete that went along with that century. WWI put an end to that idealism. I have never been much of an idealist myself, probably due to the fact that I was born post-WWI, so I am almost comforted by the cynicism that followed the beginning of the war. That must seem like a very bleak outlook, but that is reality. I am very much so a realist, and realistically speaking, it was only a matter of time before someone realized that all the progress made in the nineteenth century did not necessarily have to be used for good. Someone did finally realize this and it must have been a very difficult transition for people to make in order realize that not all progress is for the good. Some people still held onto this ideal into the twentieth century, (and I am sure some people still hold onto it today) but Ezra Pound and Wyndham Lewis sought to make it known that this ideal was not realistic. The very name of their publication was reminiscent of bombs and war. After reading such a publication, called Blast, people could not help but accept this harsh reality. Some would say it was a negative that a certain amount of idealism was lost, but unfortunately it was a necessity that had a great effect on many aspects of life, especially art and literature.

Yeats

I think what I enjoy most about William Butler Yeats is his superb sense of history. He seems to have had an excellent knowledge of the history of both Ireland and the world for that matter. Many of his poems focus on references to various men and women from historical events. For instance, his "No Second Troy" makes constant references to Helen, the famed ‘face that launched a thousand ships’ and "taught to ignorant men the most violent ways" (1118; ll. 3). I am a bit of a history buff myself and I too enjoy the story of the Trojan War. His poem does not necessarily recount many facts from the tale, but it does pose many interesting questions. The whole premise of this particular piece rests in the question of "Why should I blame her that she filled my days / with misery" (1118; ll. 1-2). Yeats is pondering if Helen could really be blamed for starting the war because truly she did nothing to prompt it but follow her heart. He asks, "Why, what could she have done, being what she is?" (1118; ll.11). She did not make herself beautiful and desirable and therefore she is not to blame for the travesty that ensued. The real puzzle comes in the last line however. Yeats asks, "Was there another Tory for her to burn?" (1118; ll. 12). I cannot be sure what he means by this line. Does he really actually blame her for what happened or is he trying to say that had this not happened to Troy it would have happened to someone else because of Helen’s very nature? All very intriguing questions sparked by Yeats’ poetry.

Shaw

The preface to Pygmalion is so interesting to me, because parts of it still hold true in America today. The purity language is not something that is necessarily held in very high esteem, but this may not be a totally loss to the beauty of language. Language variances add to the cultural identity of the many diverse areas of the nation. Shaw points out that “The English have no respect for their language, and will not teach their children to speak it” (1005). I have no doubt that Americans do not teach their children pure English; however, I cannot say I agree with the thought that people have no respect for language. The real difference lies in how a person defines the phrase “their language.” Shaw obviously sees it as meaning the pure native language of the nation, but he and I seem to disagree. By using the word “their” he implies that it is a language that belongs to the people, and the language that belongs to the people does not have to be, and often is not, the pure and native language of a nation. People do indeed own language, which makes it an ever-changing and evolving entity. It is adapted to fit certain situations. Now it is true that for uniformity’s sake, there must be certain rules that are considered “correct” when it comes to grammar, spelling, and so forth, but correct is not always appropriate. Professional is not something people strive for when having every day conversations, but this helps to keep language alive and diverse. Take the word “you” for instance. This concept varies greatly according to the area in which a person hears it. In New York one would be likely to hear “yous guys,” but in the South one would hear the ever popular “ya’ll.” These variations add such color to the identities of the local cultures. It seems to me it would be a travesty to lose these identifying features of these various cultures out of a desire to seek out the “purity” of language.

Hardy

Thomas Hardy’s “Channel Firing” is such an interesting poem to me, because it really says a lot about how WWI affected people. Obviously Hardy felt that the war had an effect on every aspect of this world and the next. The very first two lines of the poem, “That night your great guns unawares, / Shook all our coffins as we lay” (1077; ll. 1-2) make readers aware that the poem is a story told from the perspective of a dead man. Hardy feels that the war has had such an effect on the world that is has caused people to be disturbed from their eternal rest. It would take an extremely powerful force to wake the dead, and Hardy seems to think that the war has that kind of affecting-power. The war seems to have caused people to think “it was the Judgment Day,” (1077; ll. 4) but Hardy seems to think the war was not only enough to wake the dead, but it was also enough for God to act from heaven. The dead narrator says that the dead “sat upright” (1077; ll. 5) in order to prepare for the Final Judgment but then Hardy says:
Till God called ‘No;
It’s gunnery practice out at sea
Just as before you went below;
The world is as it used to be; (1077; ll. 9-12)
God has to call from heaven so that the dead will return to their graves, because he has not called for the end of the world yet, and since He has already been forced to act, He decides to speak to those already dead. He rebukes the people of Earth because of the havoc they have created and the fact that “They do no more for Christes sake / Than you who are helpless in such matters” (1077; 15-16). The dead cannot win souls for Christ, but the living can, and yet they spend all of their time now at war. This has angered God, which is made apparent through His speech. He then convinces them to return to their rest by saying:
It will be warmer when
I blow the trumpet (if indeed
I ever do; for you are men,
And rest eternal sorely need). (1077; ll. 21-24)
God is not even sure if He’ll call the Judgment because of the rest people will need after such a war. Hardy believes the war to be enough to change the plans of God Himself, and then he goes on to talk about how the war has been totally unaffected by this entire little episode. IN the last stanza Hardy says “Again the guns disturbed the hour, / Roaring their readiness to avenge” (1078; ll. 33-34). God Himself acted from heaven and yet the war continued. WWI must have truly seemed to be an unstoppable force.

Hopkins

It is a bit of a breath of fresh air to see a religious poet during this time period. I was beginning to wonder where they had all gone. Religious poetry was at one time the only kind of poetry, but it seemed to be somewhat of an abandoned theme for a while. The Romantics obviously had aspects of the occult in their poetry, but there wasn’t too much mention of God, and there has really been even less talk of such things with the Victorians. Hopkins however wrote some beautiful poetry that, as Bach would have put it, was Soli Deo Gloria. Hopkins even alludes to a bit of an absence of religion in people’s lives in his poem “God’s Grandeur.” He asks rhetorically, “Why do men then now not reck his rod?” (774; ll. 4). He too notices the absence of God not only in poetry, but more in the lives of his fellow man. He says, “Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; / And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil” (775; ll. 5-6). They have trod through years of toil because of the lack of the presence of God in their lives. There is comfort, however, in the end of the poem, because even though people do not necessarily consciously experience God in their lives, but He has not left them. Hopkins know God is still present, “Because the Holy Ghost over the bent / World broods with warm breast and with ah! Bright wings” (775; ll. 13-14). God in the form of the Holy Ghost is always ready to return to the lives of people whenever they are ready to accept him, so while the beginning is some what bleak, there is always hope in the end.

Wilde

I am so reminded of Richard Wagner when I read Wilde’s preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray. The last paragraph speaks directly to the artistic mentalities of both of these men. Wilde comments, “When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is useless” (847). Wilde is in accord with himself by being criticized because he sees critics as something less than himself, the artist. Wilde says “The artist is the creator of beautiful things,” (843) but a critic can only “translate into another manner…his impression of beautiful things” (843). This, in the mind of an artist, makes a critic less than an artist, because there is no new creation in what a critic does. The few lines of his closing paragraph also gives great insight into Wilde’s mentality. His excuse for creating something “useless,” as he calls art, is his own admiration for his work. Because he himself admires what he has created then nothing else is required. This was very much the mentality of Richard Wagner as well. He was greatly criticized for the way he stretched the boundaries of tonality, just as Wilde was criticized for writing a novel of supposed base morality, but the critics never mattered to either of these men, because of the way they felt about their own work. Their own egos were enough to sustain them. It is a good thing thought that their own egos sustained them and they did not succumb to criticism, because their work is greatly appreciated today, but it would not have survived without the inner strength of its creators.

Mill

John Stuart Mill seems to me to be a very noble man who was very far ahead of his time. Today the thought of an independent woman is nothing that innovative, but that was not always the case. There was a time, which only came to an end in some cultures not long ago, when women were second-class citizens. This is obviously an injustice to women who have just as much to contribute to society as men do, but people did not see things this way during the lifetime of Mill. People at that time had decided that when a woman took a husband he became legally responsible for her, just as her father was before her husband. It was not legal for her to won property or enter into legal contracts. This was really unfortunate for them, because today some of the shrewdest businessmen I know are actually women. Women have so much to offer society that men cannot and they have such a different and fresh view of things that I find it hard to believe socity functioned without their active role before. Mill, who was obviously a very forward thinking man, also saw women at their full potential, which is why he refused to subjugate his wife in the way most men did. It may not seem so at first reading, but Mill’s Statement Repudiating the Rights of Husbands is really quite romantic. Mill understand what is truly best for his wife and that is allowing her to have a say in her own life. Very few husbands would have done this during this time which makes there relationship quite the special one, because he wanted to make sure his wife “retains in all respects whatever the absolute freedoms of action, freedoms of disposal of herself…as if no such marriage has taken place” (527). He realizes that his wife is indeed an equal to men, which for the time was groundbreaking.

Carlyle

The selection in the book from Thomas Carlyle’s Gospel of Mammonism has really stuck with me over the course these readings, because it really made me wonder what it takes for people to consider others human. When this poor Irish Widow goes about to seek help no one sees her as anyone of great importance, but once she has infected 17 people with her typhoid fever, she is then seen as a problem that must be taken care of. If she had simply received some attention before she herself contracted the typhoid fever, so many lives could have been saved, but people are only concerned with things that affect them directly. The poverty of others is often not something people worry about, but the disease that could spread from a dead body is something that gets people’s attention. I know in today’s society it is hard to help people on the street, because of the fear that people live in each day. One never can tell any more which person generally needs help, which person is running a scam, and which person might be out to hurt someone, but this woman was not begging on the street. She was seeking out help in the right places, but they were obviously not the right places because her pleas were ignored. People must try to eliminate these feelings of isolationism because there are people that need assistance. I am not advocating giving away full paychecks to people on the streets because there is no telling what might happen to it, and above all people must be responsible to their own families, but I am sure most people could afford to give a little to these “Charitable Establishments” (480). It is paramount that these establishments have the funds to operate, but it is also the public’s responsibility to ensure that these establishments are doing their jobs in an appropriate fashion. Obviously in the case of the Irish Widow, corruption had completely overtaken Edinburgh, and so she received no assistance even though these kinds of places had already been established. They must be kept in check by the people in order to insure they are truly taking care of the needy, because as the only societal creatures who can express empathy and compassion, people do have some responsibility to the well-being of others, even if those less fortunate do not affect us directly.

Robert Browning

“Porphyria’s Lover” is such an intriguing poem, because at first reading it would seem that this poem recounts the tale of the murder of a woman by a jealous lover; however, after a closer more in depth look it would seem that this is a tale of euthanasia, a topic of much debate in America now. What is so interesting about this poem is that an argument could be made for with case. An argument could be made that this is, in fact, a crime of passion, but a case could also be made for euthanasia. This is a very well-crafted poem that keeps its readers wanting more.
It is made apparent by Browning that the two people in the poem are very passionate lovers, which is why it is fairly easy to make a case for a crime of passion. When she first enters the room, Browning says “She shut the cold out and the storm, / And kneeled and made the cheerless grate / Blaze up, and all the cottage warm” (662; ll. 7-9). There is obviously something between them, because her very presence creates a warmth in the narrator who is her lover and who is fully aware that Porphyria loves him. He says, “I looked up at her eyes / Happy and proud; at last I knew / Porphyria worshipped me” (663; ll. 31-33). The most curious thing though is they both love each other, but Porphyria cannot be with her love. Browning never specifically says why she cannot be with him, but he does say she:
Too weak,, for all her heart’s endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever. (663; ll.22-25)
Shortly after this, the killing that occurs is described by the narrator admitting “In one long yellow string I wound / Three times her little throat around, / And strangled her” (663; ll. 39-41)., but readers are left guessing as to the reason why. He obviously still cares for her, because he takes great care with the body after he has killed her, then why does he kill her?
This question plagues readers minds until they take a deeper look into the poem. After some research, readers find that Porphyria is a disease of the blood, which is often very painful for the inflicted. By the end of the poem it seems as though it was Porphyria’s wish that this happen because the narrator thinks to himself “Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how / Her darling one wish would be heard” (663; ll. 56-57), but it was not an easy thing for the narrator to do. Before the killing he says “surprise / Made my heart swell, and still it grew / While I debated what to do” (663; ll. 56-57). It may have been Porphyria’s wish to end her suffering, but it is something her lover must force himself to do for her. His attempted justification at the end, however, is very intriguing. The narrator tries to convince himself in the end as he lies in bed with his murdered lover that “all night long we have not stirred, / And yet God has not said a word!” (663; ll. 59-60). Because he has not seen immediate action from God, he assumes he has done the right thing in this highly intriguing and somewhat controversial poem.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The 43rd sonnet from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Songs from the Portuguese may be one my all time favorite poems, mostly because the first time I encountered it was in the film, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, one of my favorite childhood movies and the first line, “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways” (532; ll. 1) always reminds me of a cartoon rabbit; however, now as I’ve gotten older it holds newer meaning to me. I am still seeking for a person that inspires such thoughts as this within me. I have time, so I’m not worried about it but I hope that when I do find that right someone that these are the same thoughts that cross my mind when I consider how I love her. There is such power in her lines which read “I love thee to the depth and breadth and height / My soul can reach” (532; ll. 2-3). I cannot fathom the expanse that that covers. It reminds me also of the relationship between Robert Schumann and his wife Clara. In her journals, Clara wrote some of the most beautiful things about her husband Robert and he wrote glorious music for her. Both of these couples immortalized their love for each other in their everyday lives. They all truly captured the essence of the last two lines of Browning’s poem that say “and, if God choose, / I shall but love thee better after death” (532; ll.13-14). They have all loved each other better after death, because their love is immortal through their work that has lived on throughout the centuries. When people read this poem, the love between Robert and Elizabeth live on in the hearts of others even though they have long since gone on. The same is true of the Schumanns. Their love is alive through the many songs Robert wrote for Clara that are still sung today. These four great people shall never die, nor shall their love for each other, because of the many wonderful works they have left behind them for all to remember their great love for each other. I can only hope that one day I too can experience love like that of the Brownings and the Schumanns.

Tennyson

There was something very intriguing to me about Tennyson’s “The Kraken.” At first glance, I was very excited to see a poem about a sea monster. What could be more exciting? However at a deeper look, Tennyson seems to b making an interesting theological comment. After a lengthy description of the monster and his habitat, Tennyson says the creature will remain in the deep “Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; / Then once by men and angels to be seen, / In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die” (586; ll.13-15). This seems to me to bring to light what might happen on the Judgment Day. There are many things on this Earth that people do not understand, but that will not matter after the Judgment Day. No only will the answers to these questions be seen by men and angels, but these questions will find their deaths in this eternal resolution. It is somewhat of a comforting message (of course this follows a very suspenseful and frightening description of the mysterious creature) that is presented in “The Kraken.” The world is indeed filled with mysteries, but all of these mysteries will be solved by the All-Mighty on the Judgment Day and the answers will be given to all believers. The Kraken could also represent the many problems and conflicts in this world that will be solved by God on the last day. Once God calls an end to the world, none of these issues will be relevant any more and the Kraken “shall rise and on the surface die” (586; ll. 15).

Byron

When I read “Stanzas” by Lord Byron, I can only think of our current situation as a nation. After reading only the first two lines, “When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, / Let him combat for that of his neighbors” (390; ll. 1-2) the only thing on my mind was America in Iraq. I know there are such heated feelings on this subject right now, but that is probably what Byron is getting at, because he goes on to say “Let him think of the glories of Greece and Rome, / And get knocked on the head for his labours” (390; ll. 3-4). Our intentions may be noble, like those of Greece and Rome, but it is not something everyone agrees with, so it is often something people attack; however, we knew going in that everyone would not agree, so these attacks are anticipated because of the amount of diversity in our nation. The ending emphasizes this the most. It is the most ironic little dig of the entire poem. Byron says “Then battle for freedom wherever you can, / And, if you’re not shot or hang’d, you’ll get knighted” (390; ll. 7-8). The question of course that remains at the end of the poem is will you be shot by the enemy of freedom, or your allies who are frustrated with the venture? It is a short poem but it has a very poignant message and it stands out now more than ever for America in their struggle for freedom.

Coleridge

“Work Without Hope” is probably my favorite poem by Coleridge, because of the thoughts it inspires. This poem really makes me wonder if humans are really the most advanced of creatures. As Coleridge puts it, “All Nature seems at work.” (348; ll. 1). This includes not only animals, but humans as well, but there seem to be substantial differences, according to Coleridge, in the ways animals and humans carry out their work. Coleridge talks about how “The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--” (348; ll. 2) and they seems completely content in this work, but Coleridge, the only human present is “the sole unbusy thing, / Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing” (349; ll. 5-6). There is something completing and fulfilling about work. Most people will tell you this, and yet there Coleridge sits inactive.
In the second stanza, Coleridge seems to have picked up on this a bit, because the tone seem to shift. There is a bit of melancholy present in Coleridge’s words. “For me ye bloom not!” (349; ll. 10) he says to the amaranths before he calls to the streams to “Glide, rich streams, away” (349; ll. 10). He then describes himself in a way that is completely contrary to that of his previous descriptions of nature. He says “With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: / And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?” (349; ll. 11-12). He is lifeless compared to the rest of nature, and realizes this is what would happen should the rest of nature become as “advanced” as humans. It is after this realization that he makes his most profound observation that “Work without Hope draws nectar in sieve, / And Hope without any object cannot live” (349; ll. 13-14). He notes that is as pointless to draw nectar (a very smooth liquid) through a sieve as it is for there to be work without hope, which is often how most humans work. People very often go through the tedium each day just to get to the next. There is no meaning in their work. This is very bad because as he goes on to say, if all people were to let go of a driving hope, then hope would die, because it is not an entity that can exist on its own. People must learn to not let go of hope and apply that hope to their daily lives in order to keep hope alive.

Dorothy Wordsworth

While I was reading Dorothy Wordsworth’s diary entries I was reminded of the terrible fact that people are no longer writers. There was a time when people were addicted to the written word, which made them avid readers and writers. People would read anything they could get their hands on, but they also kept private diaries and journals and wrote lengthy and beautiful letters. This is not true any more. In the place of the beautiful letters written of old, we now have cold and impersonal e-mails that mean absolutely nothing, and in the place of private diaries that used to reveal a persons inner most feelings, we have public Blogs that are often filled with nothing but mindless chatter. Words have lost their meaning with the advent of advanced technology
An e-mail does not require the same amount of time and care that went into letters. People are now able to send an e-mail half way across the world in a matter of seconds. It is not the speed of the technology that upsets me. It is instead the amount of time that goes into creating the e-mails and people’s complete apathy towards them. No one is overjoyed to receive an e-mail, as people used to feel about receiving a letter. Readers can hear the excitement Dorothy Wordsworth expresses in her journal entries when she says things like “Oh! that I had a letter from William!” (295). She also infers this eagerness for letters in another one of her diary entries when she says “we went towards Rydale for letters” (295). Rydale was about a mile away from the Wordsworth home, and they traveled this often to collect something which today would be perceived as archaic.
Blogs are also destroying people’s ability to write. People cannot keep their inner most feelings on a Blog, because they are accessible to the public, and once again because of the instant nature of a Blog, people do not often really think about their postings. Blogs are filled with mindless ramblings of angsty teenagers and lonely individuals, but often what they say has no meaning. No one writes as Dorothy Wordsworth did when she said, “My heart was so full that I could hardly speak to W when I gave him his farewell kiss. I sate a long time upon a stone at the margin of the lake, & after a flood of tears my heart was easier” (294). No one talks like this anymore. I have never read a Blog entry that was filled with this kind of passion and beauty. As a society we are losing our ability to be poetic because of the instant nature of technology that often requires brevity and acuteness.

William Wordsworth

In “We Are Seven” Wordsworth makes a very interesting observation about life after death, but what is even more interesting is the way in which he goes about doing this. He places his voice in the mouth of a child even though he is probably the person speaking to that child. Wordsworth wishes to make a very specific observation that life does go on after death, and he uses a child to make his point.
The message of “We Are Seven” is a very hopeful one. This poem tells us that even though those we loves sometimes die, they never really leave us. They are always with us somehow. The little girl knows that even though “Two of us in the church-yard lie” (200; ll. 21) there are still seven siblings. Death only causes a physical separation. The memory of the two dead siblings live on in the memories of their brothers and sisters and so they are able to live on through those memories. They are remembered by the little girl through certain visual cues. The little girl comments that “Their graves are green, they may be seen” (200; ll. 37). By seeing their graves she remembers the people within them. She also spends time near the graves communing with her siblings. She says “And there upon the ground I sit -- / I sit and sing to them” (201; 43-44). They cannot truly be gone because they are still within this little girl and they always will be.
The most interesting part of this poem is that obviously the little girl speaks the beliefs of Wordsworth; however, it is hard to see William Wordsworth as a little girl. It is very curious that he chose a little girl to express his beliefs when there is an older man also present in the poem. It would seem that Wordsworth would be this narrator who is asking the little girl questions, which may, in fact, be the case, but the opinions of the little girl are obviously the same as Wordsworth’s. It is a very comforting thought to know that there are still people who believe a person can live forever in thoughts of others.

Blake

Once of the best qualities that Blake possesses is his excellent sense of duality. Songs of Innocence and Experience is probably one of my favorite collections of poetry for just this reason. In most cases, both of these sets contain a poem about a certain subject, but the subject is presented in completely different lights. In Songs of Innocence, Blake usually establishes some naïve ideal, like the supposed joy of service found in “The Chimney Sweeper.” The very same subject can often be found in Blake’s Songs of Experience, however, this version often expresses the harsh reality of the subject, like the life-threatening danger of being a chimney sweep.
The message found at the end of the Songs of Innocence version of “The Chimney Sweep” is a simple one. If little boys are good and complete their tasks on Earth, then they will reap a heavenly reward. The only problem with the task of a chimney sweep is the danger involved. During this time, being a chimney sweep was a life-threatening job, but these young boys often did not have a choice as they were often sold into that profession before “my tongue / could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep” (81; ll. 2-3). Because they were sold into this job, it seems people tried to convince them that what they did was noble and “if he’d be a good boy, / He’d have God for his father and never want joy” (81; ll. 19-20). So these little boy slaves naively work to their end, which more than likely will come sooner than later, because they truly believe “if all do their duty, they need not feel harm” (81; ll. 24).
The version of “The Chimney Sweep” in Songs of Experience tells a slightly different tale. Here the chimney sweep, seen as “a little black thing among the snow” (89; ll. 1) is fully aware of his station in life. He knows that his parents who have “both gone up to the church to pray” (89; ll. 4) have “clothed me in the clothes of death / And taught me to sing the notes of woe” (98; ll. 7-8). All day he calls out ‘Sweep! Sweep!’ which are his “notes of woe” in order to clean someone’s chimney and be covered in soot, “clothes of death.” They know, too, that they must pretend to be grateful for their lots in life so that people will “think they have done me no injury” (89; ll. 10) even though they truly “make up a heaven of our misery” (89; ll. 12). These boys realize that this idea of heavenly will is false and they only sweep chimneys for Earthly purposes, but there is nothing else for them to do, so they simply continue with their work.