| Poetry week post 4- George Meredith, "The Lark Ascending" |
[Apr. 20th, 2008|04:41 pm] |
This is one of the few poems I've ever read where I can hear the bird singing. Poems like "Ode to a Nightingale" and "To a Skylark" are more about the metaphoric images the bird brings up in the mind of the poet with its song. But Meredith was usually interested in reconciling human imagination with literal nature, and this poem is one of his more successful efforts to do that.
The Lark Ascending
He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound,
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,
All intervolved and spreading wide,
Like water-dimples down a tide
Where ripple ripple overcurls
And eddy into eddy whirls;
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| You know what I could do without right now? |
[Apr. 20th, 2008|05:15 pm] |
The feeling that I'm choking on liquid in the back of my throat, that's what. Stupid cold/bug/whatever. |
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