Monday, May 08, 2006

Monday Morning Poetics

I am not the biggest fan of George Gordon Lord Byron, I find his works rather ponderous. However, my appreciation is beggining to expand. In particular, this morning at least, there is this:

CXIII

I have not loved the world, nor the world me;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
To its idolatries a patient knee,
Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles, nor cried aloud
In worship of an echo; in the crowd
They could not deem me one of such; I stood
Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts and still could,
Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued.

CXIV

I have not loved the world, nor the world me,
But let us part fair foes; I do believe,
Though I have found them not, that there may be
Words which are things, hopes which will not deceive,
And virtues which are merciful, nor weave
Snares for the failing; I would also deem
O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve
That two, or one, are almost what they seem,
That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.
Childe Harolds Pilgrimage, Canto III Stanzas 113 & 114



I could go on about poetry and poetics, I'd like to as I have a whole entry on it in my head already (as is my standard, in about five seconds I flash on an entry I want to make and its all just there). Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on your attitude dear reader), I have places to go and people to see. Miles to go before I sleep.
Maybe later.

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