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Two Poets
There lived a poet once, a famous bard, Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, Soared high upon the common herd of men. So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven That shine in chilly splendour from the skies Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. Still there are some pretentious ones who read The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, Would still have others think they grasp the strain, Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, Too subtle far for them to understand, They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. There lived and died a poet, years ago -- A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words And earned his daily bread by humble toil. His songs brought gladness into many hearts And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. His name was known in palace and in cot, For kings and peasants loved the poet well. And why? Because he sang of human faith, Of human love, of human joy and pain, The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll After his name has passed from mortal ken, Thine the true poet soul and master mind Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. - Marie Joussaye (1895) |
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On May 8, 9:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> Two Poets > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > Too subtle far for them to understand, > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > His name was known in palace and in cot, > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) So this silly debate about poetic accessibility has been going on for a very long time, hasn't it? It's probably one reason why so few people read poetry. Finally, I think most people decide that every poet they understand is an idiot, every poet they don't understand is an asshole, and avoid the whole art! Leisha |
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On May 9, 2:24 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote:
> On May 8, 9:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > > > > Two Poets > > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > > Too subtle far for them to understand, > > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > > His name was known in palace and in cot, > > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) > > So this silly debate about poetic accessibility has been going on for > a very long time, hasn't it? It's probably one reason why so few > people read poetry. Finally, I think most people decide that every > poet they understand is an idiot, every poet they don't understand is > an asshole, and avoid the whole art! > > Leisha- I'm sceptical of whether many non-poets think tht much of poetry at all. This is chiefly a question that concerns poets. And it's not really a debate - debating it is silly, as each poet's going to write as he wants regardless - but a question which each poet has to resolve for himself. He has to write one way or the other, and he can't successfully do both, at least not both in the same poem. |
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On May 8, 12:26 pm, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> Two Poets > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > Too subtle far for them to understand, > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > His name was known in palace and in cot, > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) Youse doesn't has to call me "Quadrinomial." |
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George Dance wrote:
> Two Poets > > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > Too subtle far for them to understand, > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > His name was known in palace and in cot, > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) > One could learn much by /detailing/ what's wrong with these. And then fixing, keeping form, phrasing, even the somewhat archaic (in its own time) address, but finding a voice worthy of the subjects, which aren't all that horrid. -- -------(m+ ~/ )_|I do not "negotiate" for half my baby back, Solomon. http://scrawlmark.org |
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On May 8, 11:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> Two Poets > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > Too subtle far for them to understand, > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > His name was known in palace and in cot, > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) A doubles match, Misty Strawbard and Mallarme v. Strawpoet Ploughman and Wilhelmina Stitch might attract more punters. (Wilhelmina looks frail but she still has a swingeing backhand volley.) |
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On May 9, 1:03 pm, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> On May 9, 2:24 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > > > > On May 8, 9:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > Two Poets > > > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > > > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > > > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > > > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > > > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > > > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > > > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > > > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > > > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > > > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > > > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > > > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > > > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > > > Too subtle far for them to understand, > > > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > > > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > > > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > > > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > > > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > > > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > > > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > > > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > > > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > > > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > > > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > > > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > > > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > > > His name was known in palace and in cot, > > > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > > > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > > > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > > > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > > > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > > > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > > > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > > > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > > > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > > > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > > > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) > > > So this silly debate about poetic accessibility has been going on for > > a very long time, hasn't it? It's probably one reason why so few > > people read poetry. Finally, I think most people decide that every > > poet they understand is an idiot, every poet they don't understand is > > an asshole, and avoid the whole art! > > > Leisha- > > I'm sceptical of whether many non-poets think tht much of poetry at > all. This is chiefly a question that concerns poets. And it's not > really a debate - debating it is silly, as each poet's going to write > as he wants regardless - but a question which each poet has to resolve > for himself. He has to write one way or the other, and he can't > successfully do both, at least not both in the same poem.- Hide quoted text - > Wait a minute, George. Do you mean to say that everyone who reads poetry is a poet, or that nonpoets who read poetry aren't concerned with the accessibility-vs-artistic quality debate? I disagree with both statements. Debating is silly, so you can call it a forum, or a concern, or whatever. But that's just semantics, which is sillier than debating. "He has to write one way or the other." This is the heart of the matter, isn't it? But since I'm not a He, I'm a She, I'll tell you what: I'm going to buy a vowel. I don't believe in the Kobayashi Maru! Leisha |
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On May 9, 11:59 pm, OB <nevilemo...@yahoo.com> wrote:
> On May 8, 11:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > > > > Two Poets > > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > > Too subtle far for them to understand, > > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > > His name was known in palace and in cot, > > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) > > A doubles match, Misty Strawbard and Mallarme v. Strawpoet Ploughman > and Wilhelmina Stitch might attract more punters. (Wilhelmina looks > frail but she still has a swingeing backhand volley.)- Sounds like fun. But where would we get the monster trucks? |
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NoLinks wrote:
> On May 9, 1:03 pm, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > >>On May 9, 2:24 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: >> >> >> >> >> >> >>>On May 8, 9:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: >> >>>>Two Poets >> >>>>There lived a poet once, a famous bard, >>>> Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, >>>>Soared high upon the common herd of men. >>>> So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, >>>>Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven >>>> That shine in chilly splendour from the skies >>>>Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams >>>> Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. >>>>Still there are some pretentious ones who read >>>> The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, >>>>Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, >>>> Would still have others think they grasp the strain, >>>>Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, >>>> Too subtle far for them to understand, >>>>They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, >>>> Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" >>>>O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck >>>> One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame >>>>Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; >>>> 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. >>>>Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, >>>> And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. >> >>>>There lived and died a poet, years ago -- >>>> A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil >>>>Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words >>>> And earned his daily bread by humble toil. >>>>His songs brought gladness into many hearts >>>> And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. >>>>His name was known in palace and in cot, >>>> For kings and peasants loved the poet well. >>>>And why? Because he sang of human faith, >>>> Of human love, of human joy and pain, >>>>The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, >>>> The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. >>>>O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, >>>> Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, >>>>Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll >>>> After his name has passed from mortal ken, >>>>Thine the true poet soul and master mind >>>> Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. >> >>>>- Marie Joussaye (1895) >> >>>So this silly debate about poetic accessibility has been going on for >>>a very long time, hasn't it? It's probably one reason why so few >>>people read poetry. Finally, I think most people decide that every >>>poet they understand is an idiot, every poet they don't understand is >>>an asshole, and avoid the whole art! >> >>>Leisha- >> >>I'm sceptical of whether many non-poets think tht much of poetry at >>all. This is chiefly a question that concerns poets. And it's not >>really a debate - debating it is silly, as each poet's going to write >>as he wants regardless - but a question which each poet has to resolve >>for himself. He has to write one way or the other, and he can't >>successfully do both, at least not both in the same poem.- Hide quoted text - >> > > Wait a minute, George. Do you mean to say that everyone who reads > poetry is a poet, or that nonpoets who read poetry aren't concerned > with the accessibility-vs-artistic quality debate? I disagree with > both statements. Debating is silly, so you can call it a forum, or a > concern, or whatever. But that's just semantics, which is sillier than > debating. > > "He has to write one way or the other." This is the heart of the > matter, isn't it? But since I'm not a He, I'm a She, I'll tell you > what: I'm going to buy a vowel. I don't believe in the Kobayashi Maru! > > Leisha > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the universe of the discourse. I like your solution. "Democrat or Republican! Now!" "I'd like to buy an eye..." -- -------(m+ ~/ )_|I do not "negotiate" for half my baby back, Solomon. http://scrawlmark.org |
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George Dance wrote:
> On May 9, 11:59 pm, OB <nevilemo...@yahoo.com> wrote: > >>On May 8, 11:26 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: >> >> >> >> >> >> >>>Two Poets >> >>>There lived a poet once, a famous bard, >>> Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, >>>Soared high upon the common herd of men. >>> So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, >>>Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven >>> That shine in chilly splendour from the skies >>>Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams >>> Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. >>>Still there are some pretentious ones who read >>> The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, >>>Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, >>> Would still have others think they grasp the strain, >>>Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, >>> Too subtle far for them to understand, >>>They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, >>> Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" >>>O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck >>> One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame >>>Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; >>> 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. >>>Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, >>> And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. >> >>>There lived and died a poet, years ago -- >>> A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil >>>Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words >>> And earned his daily bread by humble toil. >>>His songs brought gladness into many hearts >>> And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. >>>His name was known in palace and in cot, >>> For kings and peasants loved the poet well. >>>And why? Because he sang of human faith, >>> Of human love, of human joy and pain, >>>The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, >>> The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. >>>O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, >>> Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, >>>Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll >>> After his name has passed from mortal ken, >>>Thine the true poet soul and master mind >>> Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. >> >>>- Marie Joussaye (1895) >> >>A doubles match, Misty Strawbard and Mallarme v. Strawpoet Ploughman >>and Wilhelmina Stitch might attract more punters. (Wilhelmina looks >>frail but she still has a swingeing backhand volley.)- > > > Sounds like fun. But where would we get the monster trucks? > Feed your roller skates at McDonald's. -- -------(m+ ~/ )_|I do not "negotiate" for half my baby back, Solomon. http://scrawlmark.org |
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On May 9, 6:07 pm, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@arvig.net> wrote:
> George Dance wrote: > > Two Poets > > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > > Too subtle far for them to understand, > > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > > His name was known in palace and in cot, > > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) > > One could learn much by /detailing/ what's wrong with these. > And then fixing, keeping form, phrasing, even the somewhat archaic > (in its own time) address, but finding a voice worthy of the > subjects, which aren't all that horrid. > > I would certainly be interested in that. Unfortunately, I think you'll have to do most of the work. One thing that bothers me is the reason for assyemetry of the two stanzas - LL 17-20, which look like some kind of editorial correction she inserted later. It is not integrated with the thoughts that lie above or before it; it makes the persona look like a bit of a scatterbrain. Rather than cut those four lines, though, I'd use them in place of LL 5-8 (a metaphor that goes on too long. There it would be segue quite nicely from the previous thought and into the subsequent one: So high she soared, she almost passed from sight. O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck and Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. Still, there are some pretentious ones who read That one change would have improved the poem immensely. |
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On May 9, 6:07 pm, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@arvig.net> wrote:
> George Dance wrote: > > Two Poets > > > There lived a poet once, a famous bard, > > Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, > > Soared high upon the common herd of men. > > So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, > > Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven > > That shine in chilly splendour from the skies > > Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams > > Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. > > Still there are some pretentious ones who read > > The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, > > Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, > > Would still have others think they grasp the strain, > > Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, > > Too subtle far for them to understand, > > They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, > > Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" > > O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck > > One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame > > Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; > > 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. > > Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, > > And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. > > > There lived and died a poet, years ago -- > > A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil > > Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words > > And earned his daily bread by humble toil. > > His songs brought gladness into many hearts > > And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. > > His name was known in palace and in cot, > > For kings and peasants loved the poet well. > > And why? Because he sang of human faith, > > Of human love, of human joy and pain, > > The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, > > The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. > > O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, > > Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, > > Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll > > After his name has passed from mortal ken, > > Thine the true poet soul and master mind > > Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. > > > - Marie Joussaye (1895) > > One could learn much by /detailing/ what's wrong with these. > And then fixing, keeping form, phrasing, even the somewhat archaic > (in its own time) address, but finding a voice worthy of the > subjects, which aren't all that horrid. > The subject is interesing; but no one has ever topped Rand's treatment in /The Fountainhead/: "....TOOTHBRUSH in the jaw toothbrush brush brush tooth jaw foam dome in the foam Roman dome come home home in the jaw Rome dome tooth toothbrush toothpick pickpocket socket rocket.[...] "[Peter Keating] liked this book. It had made the routine of his Sunday morning breakfast a profound spiritual experience; he was certain that it was profound, because he didn't understand it." |
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George Dance wrote:
> On May 9, 6:07 pm, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@arvig.net> wrote: > >>George Dance wrote: >> >>>Two Poets >> >>>There lived a poet once, a famous bard, >>> Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light, >>>Soared high upon the common herd of men. >>> So high she soared, she almost passed from sight, >>>Even as the cold and brilliant stars of Heaven >>> That shine in chilly splendour from the skies >>>Withhold the radiance of their fairest beams >>> Beyond the naked sight of human eyes. >>>Still there are some pretentious ones who read >>> The mystic dreams and fancies of his brain, >>>Pedantic minds who, understanding naught, >>> Would still have others think they grasp the strain, >>>Till, at some passage strange with meaning fraught, >>> Too subtle far for them to understand, >>>They pause perplexed, then, as with one accord, >>> Cry out in chorus: "How sublime and grand!" >>>O gifted bard! I would not try to pluck >>> One leaf from out thy laurel wreath of fame >>>Because I fail to grasp thy subtle thought; >>> 'Tis not in thee, but me, where lies the blame. >>>Around his tomb the world has bowed in grief, >>> And strewed his grave with bay and laurel leaf. >> >>>There lived and died a poet, years ago -- >>> A hardy, humble ploughman of the soil >>>Who sang his heartfelt songs in simplest words >>> And earned his daily bread by humble toil. >>>His songs brought gladness into many hearts >>> And soothed men's sorrows as with magic spell. >>>His name was known in palace and in cot, >>> For kings and peasants loved the poet well. >>>And why? Because he sang of human faith, >>> Of human love, of human joy and pain, >>>The grandest thoughts couched in the simplest words, >>> The lowliest mind could grasp the meaning plain. >>>O poet ploughman! Thine the laurel wreath, >>> Whose songs found answer in the hearts of men, >>>Thy name shall live on fame's immortal scroll >>> After his name has passed from mortal ken, >>>Thine the true poet soul and master mind >>> Whose lyrics touched the hearts of all mankind. >> >>>- Marie Joussaye (1895) >> >>One could learn much by /detailing/ what's wrong with these. >> And then fixing, keeping form, phrasing, even the somewhat archaic >>(in its own time) address, but finding a voice worthy of the >>subjects, which aren't all that horrid. >> > > > > The subject is interesing; but no one has ever topped Rand's treatment > in /The Fountainhead/: > > "....TOOTHBRUSH in the jaw toothbrush brush brush tooth jaw foam dome > in the foam Roman dome come home home in the jaw Rome dome tooth > toothbrush > toothpick pickpocket socket rocket.[...] > "[Peter Keating] liked this book. It had made the routine of his > Sunday morning > breakfast a profound spiritual experience; he was certain that it was > profound, because he didn't understand it." > Pigeons in the UseNet grass, alas. -- -------(m+ ~/ )_|I do not "negotiate" for half my baby back, Solomon. http://scrawlmark.org |
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> "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > universe of the discourse. > I like your solution. > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > I'll take an Oh . . . Leisha |
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"he was certain that it was
profound, because he didn't understand it" LOL! Leisha |
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NoLinks wrote:
>>"Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those >>who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." >> Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat >>vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the >>universe of the discourse. >> I like your solution. >> "Democrat or Republican! Now!" >> "I'd like to buy an eye..." >> > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > Leisha > Is there an Arrr-r-r-r-r-r... I'm a pirate. (It's why I had ter buy the eye...) -- -------(m+ ~/ )_|I do not "negotiate" for half my baby back, Solomon. http://scrawlmark.org |
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On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote:
> > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > > universe of the discourse. > > I like your solution. > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > Leisha Personally, I'd want a Why. |
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On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote:
> > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > > universe of the discourse. > > I like your solution. > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > Leisha I see my post didn't make it, so I'll try a revision: "Democrat or Republican? I'd like to buy a Why." |
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On May 17, 4:46 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > > > universe of the discourse. > > > I like your solution. > > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > >Leisha > > Personally, I'd want a Why. I don't see what we can do with eye, oh, arr, why. E-yor? My favorite donkey? "Guess I'll go eat some thistles." Leisha |
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On May 17, 1:55 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote:
> On May 17, 4:46 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > > > > On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > > > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > > > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > > > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > > > > universe of the discourse. > > > > I like your solution. > > > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > > > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > > > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > > >Leisha > > > Personally, I'd want a Why. > > I don't see what we can do with eye, oh, arr, why. E-yor? My favorite > donkey? "Guess I'll go eat some thistles." > I remember that book from days of yore. But I think his name was spelled Eeyore. We'll have to find some other word; wish I could think of one ... |
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On May 17, 5:15 pm, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> On May 17, 1:55 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > > On May 17, 4:46 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > > > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > > > > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > > > > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > > > > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > > > > > universe of the discourse. > > > > > I like your solution. > > > > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > > > > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > > > > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > > > >Leisha > > > > Personally, I'd want a Why. > > > I don't see what we can do with eye, oh, arr, why. E-yor? My favorite > > donkey? "Guess I'll go eat some thistles." > > I remember that book from days of yore. But I think his name was > spelled Eeyore. We'll have to find some other word; wish I could > think of one ... You are a silly man. Leisha |
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On May 18, 11:02 am, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote:
> On May 17, 5:15 pm, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > > > > On May 17, 1:55 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > On May 17, 4:46 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: > > > > > On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > > > > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those > > > > > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." > > > > > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat > > > > > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the > > > > > > universe of the discourse. > > > > > > I like your solution. > > > > > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" > > > > > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." > > > > > > I'll take an Oh . . . > > > > > >Leisha > > > > > Personally, I'd want a Why. > > > > I don't see what we can do with eye, oh, arr, why. E-yor? My favorite > > > donkey? "Guess I'll go eat some thistles." > > > I remember that book from days of yore. But I think his name was > > spelled Eeyore. We'll have to find some other word; wish I could > > think of one ... > > You are a silly man. > > Leisha Oh, no; I'm an insufferable tight-ass. But I am trying to loosen up in my writing, and that usually comes out as silliness. At least it's a start. |
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George Dance said:
> NoLinks wrote: > > You are a silly man. > > > > Leisha > > > Oh, no; I'm an insufferable tight-ass. But I am trying to loosen up > in my writing, and that usually comes out as silliness. At least it's > a start. "If people did not sometimes do silly things, nothing intelligent would ever get done." - Ludwig Wittgenstein -- Cm~ |
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On May 19, 2:25 pm, Barbara's Cat <c...@NOSPAMscientist.com> wrote:
> George Dance said: > > > NoLinks wrote: > > > You are a silly man. > > > > Leisha > > > Oh, no; I'm an insufferable tight-ass. But I am trying to loosen up > > in my writing, and that usually comes out as silliness. At least it's > > a start. > > "If people did not sometimes do silly things, > nothing intelligent would ever get done." > - Ludwig Wittgenstein > Hmmm ... I wish I'd seen that quote before I tried reading the / Tractatus/: I think it adds a whole new layer of meaning onto what W was trying to accomplish there. |
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"George Dance" <georgedance04@yahoo.ca> wrote in message news:1179608312.356048.194630@p77g2000hsh.googlegr oups.com... > On May 18, 11:02 am, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: >> On May 17, 5:15 pm, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: >> >> >> >> >> >> > On May 17, 1:55 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: >> >> > > On May 17, 4:46 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote: >> >> > > > On May 16, 4:47 pm, NoLinks <leisha.wharfi...@gmail.com> wrote: >> >> > > > > > "Hermes vs. Apollo" -- one of the smaller farces trotted out to those >> > > > > > who fall for "Free Will vs. Necessity." >> > > > > > Of course, ya gotta trot it out, or ya can't trot out "Democrat >> > > > > > vs. Republican," and ya /sure/ can't claim they constitute the >> > > > > > universe of the discourse. >> > > > > > I like your solution. >> > > > > > "Democrat or Republican! Now!" >> > > > > > "I'd like to buy an eye..." >> >> > > > > I'll take an Oh . . . >> >> > > > >Leisha >> >> > > > Personally, I'd want a Why. >> >> > > I don't see what we can do with eye, oh, arr, why. E-yor? My favorite >> > > donkey? "Guess I'll go eat some thistles." >> >> > I remember that book from days of yore. But I think his name was >> > spelled Eeyore. We'll have to find some other word; wish I could >> > think of one ... >> >> You are a silly man. >> >> Leisha > > > Oh, no; I'm an insufferable tight-ass. But I am trying to loosen up > in my writing, and that usually comes out as silliness. At least it's > a start. A chaos as was never heard, my love like dinosaurs in dying numbers. Darvon cries bring blue note thunders down and round the lolling tuna. A chaos my love, without remorse as luminol streaks the Pledge, and sailboats, steep with doubts about the calm before the shores, go barefoot. A chaos as was never heard, my love of numbers in the sun. As old folks share, in Cake out on the lawn. -2002 -- ------------------------------------------- AJ - http://ClitIns.Com e In. (800 folders. -- kiddie-filtered -- FREE, Usenet Porn.) |