In the letter to his poet freind, John Hamilton Reynolds, on 2 March 1817, John Keats expressed his thankfulness to Reynolds cause he had sent him a poem which gave praise to John Keats as a poet and which was a great encouragement to him as he just started his carreer as writing poetry. And I like this poem cause it tell the style and the poetical nature of John Keats's poetry in his early stage.
Here is this poem:
Thy thoughts, dear Keats, are like fresh gathered leaves,
Or white flowers pluck'd from some sweet lily bed;
They set the heart a-breathing, and they shed
Tho grow of meadows, morning and spring eves
O'ver the excited soul. - Thy genius weaves
Songs that shell make the age be nature - led,
And win that coronal for thy young head
Which time's strange hand of freshness ne'er breaves,
Go on! and keep thee to thine own green way,
Singing in that same key which Chaucer sung;
Be thou companion of the summer day.
Roaming the fields and older woods among.
So shall thy Muse be ever in her May
And thy luxuriant spirit ever young.
I think this poem did excetly shown the colour, the things, the mood and the time that John Keats often used in his poetry especially in the early stage.
Saturday, 14 January 2012
Thursday, 12 January 2012
To strive to be a poet
I started reading John Keats's letters again from its very beginning. I found his letters were full of beautiful words and also full of his affections for poetry and his freinds.
In his letter to Leigh Hunt on May 10, 1817 at Margate where he tried to concentrate himself on writing the Endymion. And he shared his struggle with his friend:
" I went to Isle of Wight. thought so much about poetry so long together, that I could not get to sleep at night."
" Another thing, I was too much in solitude and consquently was obliged to be in continual burning of thought, as an only resource."
" I have asked myself so often why I should be a poet my self than other men, seeing how great a thing it is, - how great things are to be gained by it, what a thing to be in the mouth of fame, - that at last the idea has grown so monstrously beyond my seeming power of attainment, that the other day I nearly consented with myself to drop into a phaeton. "
Then in the end of the letter, he again self mocked on to be the poet:
" Does Shelly go on telling strange stories of the deaths of kings? Tell him, there are strange stories of the deaths of poets. Some have died before they were conceived."
" Does Mrs S cut bread and butter as neatly as ever? Tell her to procure some fatal scissors, and cut the thread of life of all to-be-the desappointed poets."
" Does Mrs Hunt tear linen as straight as ever? Tell her to tear from the book of life all blank leaves."
John Keats is truely a very funny guy!! If I can has one third of his humour, life will have more laugh and fun. This is an aim I also strive for, learn to be more humourous towards life.
I can feel his struggle to be a poet to do great things. He had not much confident at the beginning. However, his strength is in his way of thinking, always think both ways, paradoxically. On the same day, he wrote an other letter to Haydon to share about the problem of no money they both had. He wrote:
" However, I must think that difficulties nerve the Spirit of a Man - they make our Prime Objects a Refuge as well as a Passion."
He also shared with Haydon about his temperaament which often drove him to despair.
" You tell me never to despair - I wish it was as easy for me to observe the saying - truth is I have a horrid Morbidity of Temperament which has shown itself at intervals - it is I have no doubt the greatest Enemy and stumbling-block I have to fear - I may even say that it is likely to be the cause of my disappointment. "
Then his strength of thinking paradoxically also saved him from sinking into the bottom or running himself to one dead end.
" However every ill has its share of good - this very bane would at any time enable me to look with an obstinate eye on the Devil Himslef - aye to be as proud of being the lowest of the human race as Alfred could be in being of the highest. I feel confident I should have been a rebel angel had the opportunity been mine. "
From John Keats, who thought paradoxically and illustrated so much about it in his letters that I was being inspired to look into this way of thinking. And later, I will have some my own ideas about it.
I can feel John Keats's Passion on Poetry and his Idealism on devoting himself to do great things - poetry.
" I know no one but you who can be fully sensible of the turmoil and anxiety, to sacrifice of all what is called comfort, the readiness to measure time by what is done and to die in six hours could plans be brought to conclusions - the looking upon the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth and its contents, as material to form greater things - that is to say ethereal things - but here I am talking like a Madman, - greater things than our Creator himself made !! "
In stead of talking about Haydon, indeed, he was talking about himself, his devotion to write poetry.
Life will not be empty and dull if I can have passion on doing something. And I can achieve something at the end which I can feel content and am proud of. In previous reading, I knew that John Keats believed that poetry should be a friend to sooth the cares, and lift the thoughts of man. I think the man who has this belief and put them into his letters and poetry do truely lift my thoughts.
In his letter to Leigh Hunt on May 10, 1817 at Margate where he tried to concentrate himself on writing the Endymion. And he shared his struggle with his friend:
" I went to Isle of Wight. thought so much about poetry so long together, that I could not get to sleep at night."
" Another thing, I was too much in solitude and consquently was obliged to be in continual burning of thought, as an only resource."
" I have asked myself so often why I should be a poet my self than other men, seeing how great a thing it is, - how great things are to be gained by it, what a thing to be in the mouth of fame, - that at last the idea has grown so monstrously beyond my seeming power of attainment, that the other day I nearly consented with myself to drop into a phaeton. "
Then in the end of the letter, he again self mocked on to be the poet:
" Does Shelly go on telling strange stories of the deaths of kings? Tell him, there are strange stories of the deaths of poets. Some have died before they were conceived."
" Does Mrs S cut bread and butter as neatly as ever? Tell her to procure some fatal scissors, and cut the thread of life of all to-be-the desappointed poets."
" Does Mrs Hunt tear linen as straight as ever? Tell her to tear from the book of life all blank leaves."
John Keats is truely a very funny guy!! If I can has one third of his humour, life will have more laugh and fun. This is an aim I also strive for, learn to be more humourous towards life.
I can feel his struggle to be a poet to do great things. He had not much confident at the beginning. However, his strength is in his way of thinking, always think both ways, paradoxically. On the same day, he wrote an other letter to Haydon to share about the problem of no money they both had. He wrote:
" However, I must think that difficulties nerve the Spirit of a Man - they make our Prime Objects a Refuge as well as a Passion."
He also shared with Haydon about his temperaament which often drove him to despair.
" You tell me never to despair - I wish it was as easy for me to observe the saying - truth is I have a horrid Morbidity of Temperament which has shown itself at intervals - it is I have no doubt the greatest Enemy and stumbling-block I have to fear - I may even say that it is likely to be the cause of my disappointment. "
Then his strength of thinking paradoxically also saved him from sinking into the bottom or running himself to one dead end.
" However every ill has its share of good - this very bane would at any time enable me to look with an obstinate eye on the Devil Himslef - aye to be as proud of being the lowest of the human race as Alfred could be in being of the highest. I feel confident I should have been a rebel angel had the opportunity been mine. "
From John Keats, who thought paradoxically and illustrated so much about it in his letters that I was being inspired to look into this way of thinking. And later, I will have some my own ideas about it.
I can feel John Keats's Passion on Poetry and his Idealism on devoting himself to do great things - poetry.
" I know no one but you who can be fully sensible of the turmoil and anxiety, to sacrifice of all what is called comfort, the readiness to measure time by what is done and to die in six hours could plans be brought to conclusions - the looking upon the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth and its contents, as material to form greater things - that is to say ethereal things - but here I am talking like a Madman, - greater things than our Creator himself made !! "
In stead of talking about Haydon, indeed, he was talking about himself, his devotion to write poetry.
Life will not be empty and dull if I can have passion on doing something. And I can achieve something at the end which I can feel content and am proud of. In previous reading, I knew that John Keats believed that poetry should be a friend to sooth the cares, and lift the thoughts of man. I think the man who has this belief and put them into his letters and poetry do truely lift my thoughts.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
The Human Seasons
This is a sonnet which John Keats compared human's mind in different life stage with the year's four seasons.
Four seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man;
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming nigh
His nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness - to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
It seems Winter and old age both are never being welcome. Only their coming are unchangeable.
Getting old and being closer to the other end seems helplessly and hopelessly to us. Are they so bad?
For my own experience, I think getting old is good cause it comes with more life experience and more self-knowledge and sometimes also one has more liberty. When our children have grown up. They manage their lives and we are free to live a life as we want to. And as we know more about ourselves and the world. We will not make as many mistakes as we were young to achieve our dreams and we are also more focus and also more capable to enjoy our life and to relate with others in the way we choose.
I aslo find in Shakespeare's play-As you like it, Shakespeare also use the character, Jaque, to tell the same topic. different life stage. And I would like to show it here. As John Keats read Shakespeare so much. I would think lots of John Keats's poetical theme come from him.
In Act 2 scene 7
Jaques:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances.
And one man in his time plays many parts.
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier
Full of strange oaths and breaded like the pard
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel
Seeking the bubble reputation.
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly with good capon lined.
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut.
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
|Into the lean and slippered pantaloon
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion.
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
It is a very rich discription of human life stages. I started to like Shakespeare's art.
Four seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man;
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming nigh
His nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness - to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
It seems Winter and old age both are never being welcome. Only their coming are unchangeable.
Getting old and being closer to the other end seems helplessly and hopelessly to us. Are they so bad?
For my own experience, I think getting old is good cause it comes with more life experience and more self-knowledge and sometimes also one has more liberty. When our children have grown up. They manage their lives and we are free to live a life as we want to. And as we know more about ourselves and the world. We will not make as many mistakes as we were young to achieve our dreams and we are also more focus and also more capable to enjoy our life and to relate with others in the way we choose.
I aslo find in Shakespeare's play-As you like it, Shakespeare also use the character, Jaque, to tell the same topic. different life stage. And I would like to show it here. As John Keats read Shakespeare so much. I would think lots of John Keats's poetical theme come from him.
In Act 2 scene 7
Jaques:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances.
And one man in his time plays many parts.
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier
Full of strange oaths and breaded like the pard
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel
Seeking the bubble reputation.
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly with good capon lined.
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut.
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
|Into the lean and slippered pantaloon
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion.
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
It is a very rich discription of human life stages. I started to like Shakespeare's art.
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
A Party of Lovers
Yesterday, I just finished reading Shakespeare's As you like it. And I found it is interesting. Then I rememberd John Keats also had a poem described a party of lovers. His poem is kind of an outsider's point of view and feeling: he found their behaviour not very make sense. The first part of the poem is:
A Party of Lovers
Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,
Nibble their toast and cool their tea with sighs:
Or else forget the purpose of the night,
Forget their tea, forget their night,
See, with cross'd arms they sit - Ah! happy crew,
The fire is going out and no one rings
For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings..
.........
When people are in love, their world is one - both absorb in the other, Nothing and no one is existed in between them.
Then when John Keats fell in love with Fanny, he wrote:
" I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again - my Life seems to stop there - I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was disolving - ..."
In an other letter, he wrote:
"I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of the window: you always concentrate my whole sense....."
Now John Keats was in love. He experienced the power of loving. In As you like it, Shakespear also described what is to love from a insider's point of view, and the description is very beautifully writen
Phebe Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love
Silvius It is to be all made of sighs and tears,
And so am I for Phebe.
Phebe And I for Ganymede
Orando And I for Rosalind
Rosalind And I for no women.
Silvius It is to be all made of faith and service,
And so am I for Phebe.
.............
Silvius It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes,
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance;
And so am I for Phebe.
John Keats is called a Shakespearean and he liked Shakespear so much and called him his presider that make me start to read Shakespeare. And I started to like Shakespeare's work.
A Party of Lovers
Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,
Nibble their toast and cool their tea with sighs:
Or else forget the purpose of the night,
Forget their tea, forget their night,
See, with cross'd arms they sit - Ah! happy crew,
The fire is going out and no one rings
For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings..
.........
When people are in love, their world is one - both absorb in the other, Nothing and no one is existed in between them.
Then when John Keats fell in love with Fanny, he wrote:
" I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again - my Life seems to stop there - I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was disolving - ..."
In an other letter, he wrote:
"I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of the window: you always concentrate my whole sense....."
Now John Keats was in love. He experienced the power of loving. In As you like it, Shakespear also described what is to love from a insider's point of view, and the description is very beautifully writen
Phebe Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love
Silvius It is to be all made of sighs and tears,
And so am I for Phebe.
Phebe And I for Ganymede
Orando And I for Rosalind
Rosalind And I for no women.
Silvius It is to be all made of faith and service,
And so am I for Phebe.
.............
Silvius It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes,
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance;
And so am I for Phebe.
John Keats is called a Shakespearean and he liked Shakespear so much and called him his presider that make me start to read Shakespeare. And I started to like Shakespeare's work.
Friday, 6 January 2012
Commerce with the world
In the same latter 23 Oct 1818, John Keats shared with his brother what he felt when he commerced with the world.
" Think of my Pleasure in Solitude in comparison of my commerce with the world - there I am a child - there they do not know me, not even my most intimate acquaintance - I give in to their feelings as though I were refraining from irritating a little child. "
As the Chameleon poet, he has no self, no identity. As the man, John Keats, he has his identity and his self, but he still chose to hide it. He is not egocentric and he thinks paradoxically too and he conceived all ideas are end in speculation. More, he wanted harmony among friends. So he chose to give in to their feeling and not to make himself irritated when disagreeing with them. And he understood what his friends think about him.
"Some think me middling, others silly, others foolish - every one thinks he see my weak side against my will, when in truth it is with my will - I am content to be thought all this because I have in my own breast so great a resource. This is one great reason why they like me so; because they can all show to advantage in a room and eclipse to be a good Poet. I hope I am not here playing tricks - to make the angles weep - : I think not: for I have not the least contempt for my spieces,"
People all want to hide their weakness and want other to think them great. But John Keats is extraordinary that he hid his greatness and shown his weakness. And he understood human nature and accepted human weakness. The most common human weakness is self-decieve and thinks oneself is higher than the other. But John Keats seized the Truth. As a great man, he looks up to live up to the Greatness, the Beauty, the Truth. That is what he strifes for:
" Though it may sound paradoxical, my greatest elevations of soul leave me every time more humbled"
By perserving this letter which he wrote to his brother, we can share his inner feeling and thought and understand the man, his characters and how he related to his friends. This shows the great man.
That is why the more we read John Keats, the more we know him and the more we love him!!
" Think of my Pleasure in Solitude in comparison of my commerce with the world - there I am a child - there they do not know me, not even my most intimate acquaintance - I give in to their feelings as though I were refraining from irritating a little child. "
As the Chameleon poet, he has no self, no identity. As the man, John Keats, he has his identity and his self, but he still chose to hide it. He is not egocentric and he thinks paradoxically too and he conceived all ideas are end in speculation. More, he wanted harmony among friends. So he chose to give in to their feeling and not to make himself irritated when disagreeing with them. And he understood what his friends think about him.
"Some think me middling, others silly, others foolish - every one thinks he see my weak side against my will, when in truth it is with my will - I am content to be thought all this because I have in my own breast so great a resource. This is one great reason why they like me so; because they can all show to advantage in a room and eclipse to be a good Poet. I hope I am not here playing tricks - to make the angles weep - : I think not: for I have not the least contempt for my spieces,"
People all want to hide their weakness and want other to think them great. But John Keats is extraordinary that he hid his greatness and shown his weakness. And he understood human nature and accepted human weakness. The most common human weakness is self-decieve and thinks oneself is higher than the other. But John Keats seized the Truth. As a great man, he looks up to live up to the Greatness, the Beauty, the Truth. That is what he strifes for:
" Though it may sound paradoxical, my greatest elevations of soul leave me every time more humbled"
By perserving this letter which he wrote to his brother, we can share his inner feeling and thought and understand the man, his characters and how he related to his friends. This shows the great man.
That is why the more we read John Keats, the more we know him and the more we love him!!
Thursday, 5 January 2012
The Poetical Mind and the Heart's Affection
In John Keats, the poetical character has no self, no identity. The poet is continually in for and filling some other body. Then what is the poetical mind? How does it look like?
In his letter on 23 Oct 1818 to his brother George and his sister in law Georgiana who are newly married, he compared the domestic happiness of marriage with the sublimity of his Solitude in writing poetry. He prefered the latter. He wrote,
" Nowithstanding your happiness and your recommendation I hope I shall never marry."
" Though the most beautiful Creature were waiting for me at the end of a Journey or a Walk; though the Carpet were of Silk, the Curtains of the morning Clouds; the chairs and Sofa stuffed with Cygnet's down; the food Manna, the Wine beyond Claret, the Window opening on Winander mere, "
This is the domestic life he imagined. But he did not believe his would be as fine as this.
"I should not feel - or rather my Happiness would not be so fine, as my Solitude is sublime."
Then he wrote, " Then instead of what I have described, there is a sublimity to welcome me home- the roaring of the wind is my wife and the Stars through the window pane are my children."
And he told the reason why he would rather being single.
" The mighty abstract Idea I have of Beauty in all things strifes the more divided and minute domestic happiness - an amiable wife and sweet children I contemplate as a part of that Beauty, but I must have a thousand of those beautiful particles to fill up my heart."
And what does his poetical mind looks like:
" I feel more and more every day as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds - No sooner am I alone than shapes of epic greatness are stationed around me, and serve my Spirit the office which is equivalent to a King's bodyguard - then "Tragedy with sceptred pall comes sweeping by."
" According to my state of mind I am with Achilles shouting in the Trenches, or with Theocritus in the Vales of Sicily. Or I throw my whole being into Troilus, and repeating those lines, " I wander like a lost Soul upon the stygian Banks staying for waftage."
And then he concluded, " I melt into the air with a voluptuousness so delicate that I am content to be alone.
One more reason he rejected domestic life is that he did not have a good opinion on women.
" These things, combined with the opinion I have of the generality of women - who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar Plum than my time, form a barrier against Matrimony which I rejoice in."
The above opinions he shared with his brother let us know what his ideas on domestic life of marriage and on his solitude for poetry and also have a impression on his poetical mind.
It is interesting to see how he changed after he met Fanny Brawne. Let's see how he felt for Fanny in the following poem:
" What can I do to drive away
Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen,
Ay, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,
What can I do to kill it and be free
In my old liberty?
When every fair one that I saw was fair,
Enough to catch me in but half a snare,
Not keep me there;
When, howe'er poor or parti-coloured things,
My muse had wings,
And ever ready was to take her course
Wither I bent her force,
Unintellectual, yet divine to me -
Divine, I say! What sea-bird o'er the sea
Is a philosopher the while he goes
Winging alone where the great water throes?
How shall I do
To get anew
Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more
Above, above
The reach of fluttering Love,
And make him cower lowly while I soar?
...... "
As what he said, The love for Fanny is unintellectual, yet Divine! And only one particle - Fanny, can take over all his heart, no more for the other one thousand particles. Fanny is truely Divine to him. And this is exactly what he believe:
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of Heart's Affection!!
In his letter on 23 Oct 1818 to his brother George and his sister in law Georgiana who are newly married, he compared the domestic happiness of marriage with the sublimity of his Solitude in writing poetry. He prefered the latter. He wrote,
" Nowithstanding your happiness and your recommendation I hope I shall never marry."
" Though the most beautiful Creature were waiting for me at the end of a Journey or a Walk; though the Carpet were of Silk, the Curtains of the morning Clouds; the chairs and Sofa stuffed with Cygnet's down; the food Manna, the Wine beyond Claret, the Window opening on Winander mere, "
This is the domestic life he imagined. But he did not believe his would be as fine as this.
"I should not feel - or rather my Happiness would not be so fine, as my Solitude is sublime."
Then he wrote, " Then instead of what I have described, there is a sublimity to welcome me home- the roaring of the wind is my wife and the Stars through the window pane are my children."
And he told the reason why he would rather being single.
" The mighty abstract Idea I have of Beauty in all things strifes the more divided and minute domestic happiness - an amiable wife and sweet children I contemplate as a part of that Beauty, but I must have a thousand of those beautiful particles to fill up my heart."
And what does his poetical mind looks like:
" I feel more and more every day as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds - No sooner am I alone than shapes of epic greatness are stationed around me, and serve my Spirit the office which is equivalent to a King's bodyguard - then "Tragedy with sceptred pall comes sweeping by."
" According to my state of mind I am with Achilles shouting in the Trenches, or with Theocritus in the Vales of Sicily. Or I throw my whole being into Troilus, and repeating those lines, " I wander like a lost Soul upon the stygian Banks staying for waftage."
And then he concluded, " I melt into the air with a voluptuousness so delicate that I am content to be alone.
One more reason he rejected domestic life is that he did not have a good opinion on women.
" These things, combined with the opinion I have of the generality of women - who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar Plum than my time, form a barrier against Matrimony which I rejoice in."
The above opinions he shared with his brother let us know what his ideas on domestic life of marriage and on his solitude for poetry and also have a impression on his poetical mind.
It is interesting to see how he changed after he met Fanny Brawne. Let's see how he felt for Fanny in the following poem:
" What can I do to drive away
Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen,
Ay, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,
What can I do to kill it and be free
In my old liberty?
When every fair one that I saw was fair,
Enough to catch me in but half a snare,
Not keep me there;
When, howe'er poor or parti-coloured things,
My muse had wings,
And ever ready was to take her course
Wither I bent her force,
Unintellectual, yet divine to me -
Divine, I say! What sea-bird o'er the sea
Is a philosopher the while he goes
Winging alone where the great water throes?
How shall I do
To get anew
Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more
Above, above
The reach of fluttering Love,
And make him cower lowly while I soar?
...... "
As what he said, The love for Fanny is unintellectual, yet Divine! And only one particle - Fanny, can take over all his heart, no more for the other one thousand particles. Fanny is truely Divine to him. And this is exactly what he believe:
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of Heart's Affection!!
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
My reflection
I started this blog for four days and it was a very fruitful experience.
I try to understand John Keats's words and to elaborate his poetry and his ideas and to put it down in words. During the process, I found out some of my previous interpretation of his poems are not correct. Take "Where is the poet?" as an example. " This is a man with a man is an equal, " Before, I thought he meant the poet treats every one the same, no matter he is rich or poor, high status or low in class. The concept of non- discrimination. Then I read his letter about the Chemeleon Poet with no self and continueouslly fills in others. Now I thought " with a man is an equal " means the poet can identify with every one.
An other example, A Song of Opposite, I try hard to think how to welcome joy and welcome sorrow. And try to give some answers. Then I reread the poem and found the tone of this poem is just playful and is not in any serious sense or about any philosophy for life. I also read his letter to John Taylor which he shared his axiom on writing poetry: " 1st. I think poetry should surprise by a fine excess,and not by singularity" And this axiom is exactly shown in A Song of Opposite. So it is good to write and to reread what I wrote and to correct my thought so that I can more understand John Keats. During the writing process, it is also a thinking process. I am more aware of the ideas of mine and those of John Keats. It is important to differentiate and to write clearly what is my own ideas and what is his.
By writing this blog, I find a good way to learn to think and to write and to appreciate John Keats more and deeper.
I try to understand John Keats's words and to elaborate his poetry and his ideas and to put it down in words. During the process, I found out some of my previous interpretation of his poems are not correct. Take "Where is the poet?" as an example. " This is a man with a man is an equal, " Before, I thought he meant the poet treats every one the same, no matter he is rich or poor, high status or low in class. The concept of non- discrimination. Then I read his letter about the Chemeleon Poet with no self and continueouslly fills in others. Now I thought " with a man is an equal " means the poet can identify with every one.
An other example, A Song of Opposite, I try hard to think how to welcome joy and welcome sorrow. And try to give some answers. Then I reread the poem and found the tone of this poem is just playful and is not in any serious sense or about any philosophy for life. I also read his letter to John Taylor which he shared his axiom on writing poetry: " 1st. I think poetry should surprise by a fine excess,and not by singularity" And this axiom is exactly shown in A Song of Opposite. So it is good to write and to reread what I wrote and to correct my thought so that I can more understand John Keats. During the writing process, it is also a thinking process. I am more aware of the ideas of mine and those of John Keats. It is important to differentiate and to write clearly what is my own ideas and what is his.
By writing this blog, I find a good way to learn to think and to write and to appreciate John Keats more and deeper.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
a poet is a sage; A humanist, physician to all men
" Welcome joy and welcome sorrow. " It is easy to say but is not so simple once the sorrow and the misery are our own experience and misfortunes and agony are happened in our life.
I think John Keats is not a pleasure seeker, avoids pain and looks for joy. He accepts life as what it is and what it will be. As a poet, he can use his own experience in poetry to give consolation to other people.
In Sleep and Poetry, line 241--247,
" But strength alone though of the Muses born
Is like a fallen angel: tree uptorn,
Darkness, and worms, and shrouds, and sepulchres
Delight it; for it feeds upon burrs,
and thorns of life; forgetting the great end
Of poesy, that it should be a friend
To sooth the cares, and lift the thoughts of man. "
As I understand, what John Keats means, as a poet in poetical character, darkness, sorrow, despair and agony, those thorns of life, can make poetry in its intensity and beauty. But the great end of poetry should be a friend of man; to sooth and to console the human and to lift the thoughts of man.
In The Fall of Hyperion--A Dream, John Keats used the theme of Dante's Inferno to self-questioned himself whether he is a dreamer or a poet. In his view, a poet is a sage, a humanist, a physican to all men.
In the dream, he was able to mount up the immortal steps and saved from death and approached the horned shrine and found only he was there alone and was face to face with Montea, mother of the Muse, associated with memory.
He asked Montea, started in line 154,
" Are there not thousands in the world,
Who love their fellows even to the death,
Who feel the giant agony of the world,
And more, like slaves to poor humanity,
Labour for mortal good? I sure should see
Other men here; but I am here alone,"
Montea answerd,
Those whom thou spak'st of are no vision'ries,
They are no dreamers weak,
They see no wonder but the human face;
No music but a happy-noted voice--
They come not here, they have no thought to come--
And thou art here, for thou art less than they--
What benefit canst thou, or all thy tribe,
To the great world? Thou art a dreaming thing,
A fever of thyself--think of the Earth;
What bless even in hope is there for thee?
What haven? every creature hath its home;
Every sole man hath days of joy and pain,
Whether his labours be sublim or low --
The pain alone; the joy alone; distinct:
Only the dreamer venoms all his days,
Bearing more woe than all his sins deserve.
Therefore, that happiness be somewhat shar'd,
Such things as thou art are admitted oft
Into like gardens thou didst pass erewhile,
And suffer'd in these temples: for that cause
Thou standest safe beneath this statue's knees."
"That I am favour'd for unworthiness,
By such propitious parley medicin'd
In sickness not ignoble, I rejoice,
Aye, and could weep for love of such award."
So answer'd I, continuing, " if it please,
Majestic shadow, tell me; sure not all
Those melodies sung into the world's ear
As useless: sure a poet is a sage;
A humanist, physician to all men.
That I am none I feel, as vultures feel
They are no birds when eagles are abroad.
What am I then; Thou speakst of my tribe:
What tribe?"
I like John Keats. He is humour, always self-mocking, deeply honest and so noble in heart.
I think John Keats is not a pleasure seeker, avoids pain and looks for joy. He accepts life as what it is and what it will be. As a poet, he can use his own experience in poetry to give consolation to other people.
In Sleep and Poetry, line 241--247,
" But strength alone though of the Muses born
Is like a fallen angel: tree uptorn,
Darkness, and worms, and shrouds, and sepulchres
Delight it; for it feeds upon burrs,
and thorns of life; forgetting the great end
Of poesy, that it should be a friend
To sooth the cares, and lift the thoughts of man. "
As I understand, what John Keats means, as a poet in poetical character, darkness, sorrow, despair and agony, those thorns of life, can make poetry in its intensity and beauty. But the great end of poetry should be a friend of man; to sooth and to console the human and to lift the thoughts of man.
In The Fall of Hyperion--A Dream, John Keats used the theme of Dante's Inferno to self-questioned himself whether he is a dreamer or a poet. In his view, a poet is a sage, a humanist, a physican to all men.
In the dream, he was able to mount up the immortal steps and saved from death and approached the horned shrine and found only he was there alone and was face to face with Montea, mother of the Muse, associated with memory.
He asked Montea, started in line 154,
" Are there not thousands in the world,
Who love their fellows even to the death,
Who feel the giant agony of the world,
And more, like slaves to poor humanity,
Labour for mortal good? I sure should see
Other men here; but I am here alone,"
Montea answerd,
Those whom thou spak'st of are no vision'ries,
They are no dreamers weak,
They see no wonder but the human face;
No music but a happy-noted voice--
They come not here, they have no thought to come--
And thou art here, for thou art less than they--
What benefit canst thou, or all thy tribe,
To the great world? Thou art a dreaming thing,
A fever of thyself--think of the Earth;
What bless even in hope is there for thee?
What haven? every creature hath its home;
Every sole man hath days of joy and pain,
Whether his labours be sublim or low --
The pain alone; the joy alone; distinct:
Only the dreamer venoms all his days,
Bearing more woe than all his sins deserve.
Therefore, that happiness be somewhat shar'd,
Such things as thou art are admitted oft
Into like gardens thou didst pass erewhile,
And suffer'd in these temples: for that cause
Thou standest safe beneath this statue's knees."
"That I am favour'd for unworthiness,
By such propitious parley medicin'd
In sickness not ignoble, I rejoice,
Aye, and could weep for love of such award."
So answer'd I, continuing, " if it please,
Majestic shadow, tell me; sure not all
Those melodies sung into the world's ear
As useless: sure a poet is a sage;
A humanist, physician to all men.
That I am none I feel, as vultures feel
They are no birds when eagles are abroad.
What am I then; Thou speakst of my tribe:
What tribe?"
I like John Keats. He is humour, always self-mocking, deeply honest and so noble in heart.
Monday, 2 January 2012
Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow
John Keats loves the principle of beauty in all things. He expressed this idea in A song of Opposites:
Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow,
Lethe's weed and Herme's feather,
Come today, and come tomorrow,
I do love you both together!
I love to mark sad faces in fair weather;
And hear a merry laugh amid the thunder;
........
What does that mean, the principle of beauty in all things?
In life, joy is sure being welcomed, but how can we welcome sorrow too? And why?
If there is beauty in all things, does it imply that we can find joy in sorrow, beauty in ugly, poor in rich, good in evil, fair in foul, etc...And in the opposite, those things looked good can have something bad in some ways: sorrow in joy, bad in good, foul in fair, ugly in beauty, poor in rich, etc.....
In his Ode on Melancholy, he tells the truth:
She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips;
Ay, in the very temple of delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Nothing can last forever. Time is always the truth. Joy and pleasure at this moment will be gone next minute. Beauty cannot stay forever and this is the truth. And so does Sorrow and Pain, they are not good but they cannot last forever too and they will be passed. That is true.
In his letter to Benjamin Bailey on March 13, 1818, he shared with him about Religion and also in general that he is very sceptical.
" I do not think my self more in the right than other people, and that nothing in this world is proveable. I wish I could enter into all your feelings on the subject, merely for one short 10 minutes, and give you a page or two to your liking. ( you can see he is the Chameleon Poet with no self, no identity, he is continually in for others) I have sometimes so very sceptical as to think Poetry itself a mere Jack o' Lantern to amuse whoever may chance to be struck with its brilliance. As tradesmen say everything is worth what it will fetch, so probably every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer -- being itself a Nothing...."
But he is sure that the subjective world in every one is the truth for everyone. And his famous quote:
" I am certain of nothing But the holiness of Heart's Affections and the truth of the Imagination."
So Welcome joy and welcome sorrow!!
Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow,
Lethe's weed and Herme's feather,
Come today, and come tomorrow,
I do love you both together!
I love to mark sad faces in fair weather;
And hear a merry laugh amid the thunder;
........
What does that mean, the principle of beauty in all things?
In life, joy is sure being welcomed, but how can we welcome sorrow too? And why?
If there is beauty in all things, does it imply that we can find joy in sorrow, beauty in ugly, poor in rich, good in evil, fair in foul, etc...And in the opposite, those things looked good can have something bad in some ways: sorrow in joy, bad in good, foul in fair, ugly in beauty, poor in rich, etc.....
In his Ode on Melancholy, he tells the truth:
She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips;
Ay, in the very temple of delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Nothing can last forever. Time is always the truth. Joy and pleasure at this moment will be gone next minute. Beauty cannot stay forever and this is the truth. And so does Sorrow and Pain, they are not good but they cannot last forever too and they will be passed. That is true.
In his letter to Benjamin Bailey on March 13, 1818, he shared with him about Religion and also in general that he is very sceptical.
" I do not think my self more in the right than other people, and that nothing in this world is proveable. I wish I could enter into all your feelings on the subject, merely for one short 10 minutes, and give you a page or two to your liking. ( you can see he is the Chameleon Poet with no self, no identity, he is continually in for others) I have sometimes so very sceptical as to think Poetry itself a mere Jack o' Lantern to amuse whoever may chance to be struck with its brilliance. As tradesmen say everything is worth what it will fetch, so probably every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer -- being itself a Nothing...."
But he is sure that the subjective world in every one is the truth for everyone. And his famous quote:
" I am certain of nothing But the holiness of Heart's Affections and the truth of the Imagination."
So Welcome joy and welcome sorrow!!
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Where's the Poet?
Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him!
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal.be he King,
Or poorest of the beggar-clan,
Or any other wondrous thing
A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato;
'Tis the man who with a bird,
Wren or Eagle, find his way to
All its instinsts; he hath heard
The Lion's roaring, and can tell
What his horny throat expresseth,
And to him the Tiger's yell
Comes articulate and presseth
On his ear like mother tongue.
It is a fragment of John Keats poems- The Poet. So What did he think of the Poet?
This is the man who with a man Is an equal; who with a bird finds his way to All its instincts.
But what does that mean: Is an equal?
A letter he wrote to Richard Woodhouse on October 27 1818 can give us his idea of the Poet-the Chameleon Poet.
" --1st. As to the poetical Character itself. I mean that sort of which, if I am anything, I am a member; that sort distinguished from the Wordsworthian, or egotistical Sublime; which is a thing per.se, and stands alone, it is not itself-it has no self- It is everything and nothing--It has no character--it enjoy light and shade; it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or low, rich or poor, mean or elevated--It has as much delight in conceiving an Iago as an Imogen. What shocks the virtuous philosopher delights the chameleon poet. Its relish of the dark side of things, any more than from its taste for the bright one, because they both end in speculation. A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence, because he has no identity--he is in for and filling some other body. The Sun,--the Moon,--the Sea, and men and women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity--he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's creatures.--If then he has no self,...."
What makes John Keats great as The Poet and as The Man is, his no identity, no self, that he can identify with everyone and everything to the core of their essence,their impulse, their instincts. That makes him different from the other poets, that are blind and bind by their ego. That makes his letters and his poetry are always and forever touching your heart and soothing your soul. And he is the noblest among the noble men and the truest among the honest person. What makes him so much loved is his love : I have lov'd the principle of beauty in all things.
So from his poetry and letters., we see and feel and touch and hear and taste all beauty in all things; we are all affected by his affection for the Nature. the Beauty. the human being and the Truth
In his friend's word: " From John Keats, I know what is to love. I love John Keats."
Muses nine! that I may know him!
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal.be he King,
Or poorest of the beggar-clan,
Or any other wondrous thing
A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato;
'Tis the man who with a bird,
Wren or Eagle, find his way to
All its instinsts; he hath heard
The Lion's roaring, and can tell
What his horny throat expresseth,
And to him the Tiger's yell
Comes articulate and presseth
On his ear like mother tongue.
It is a fragment of John Keats poems- The Poet. So What did he think of the Poet?
This is the man who with a man Is an equal; who with a bird finds his way to All its instincts.
But what does that mean: Is an equal?
A letter he wrote to Richard Woodhouse on October 27 1818 can give us his idea of the Poet-the Chameleon Poet.
" --1st. As to the poetical Character itself. I mean that sort of which, if I am anything, I am a member; that sort distinguished from the Wordsworthian, or egotistical Sublime; which is a thing per.se, and stands alone, it is not itself-it has no self- It is everything and nothing--It has no character--it enjoy light and shade; it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or low, rich or poor, mean or elevated--It has as much delight in conceiving an Iago as an Imogen. What shocks the virtuous philosopher delights the chameleon poet. Its relish of the dark side of things, any more than from its taste for the bright one, because they both end in speculation. A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence, because he has no identity--he is in for and filling some other body. The Sun,--the Moon,--the Sea, and men and women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity--he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's creatures.--If then he has no self,...."
What makes John Keats great as The Poet and as The Man is, his no identity, no self, that he can identify with everyone and everything to the core of their essence,their impulse, their instincts. That makes him different from the other poets, that are blind and bind by their ego. That makes his letters and his poetry are always and forever touching your heart and soothing your soul. And he is the noblest among the noble men and the truest among the honest person. What makes him so much loved is his love : I have lov'd the principle of beauty in all things.
So from his poetry and letters., we see and feel and touch and hear and taste all beauty in all things; we are all affected by his affection for the Nature. the Beauty. the human being and the Truth
In his friend's word: " From John Keats, I know what is to love. I love John Keats."
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