He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb: Little Lamb God bless thee. The poem ends with the child bestowing a blessing on the lamb. Repetition in the first and last couplet of each stanza makes these lines into a refrain, and helps to give the poem its song-like quality.
Although a poem be not made by counting of syllables upon the fingers, yet "numbers" is the most poetical synonym we have for verse, and "measure" the most significant equivalent for beauty, for goodness, and perhaps even for truth.
Those early and profound philosophers, the followers of Pythagoras, saw the essence of all things in number, and it was by weight, measure, and number, as we read in the Bible, that the Creator first brought Nature out of the void. Measure is a condition of perfection, for perfection requires that order should be pervasive, that not only the whole before us should have a form, but that every part in turn should have a form of its own, and that those parts should be coordinated among themselves as the whole is coordinated with the other parts of some greater cosmos.
Leibnitz lighted in his speculations upon a conception of organic nature which may be false as a fact, but which is excellent as an ideal; he tells us that the difference between living and dead matter, between animals and machines, is that the former are composed of parts that are themselves organic, every portion of the body being itself a machine, and every portion of that machine still a machine, and so ad infinitum; whereas, in artificial bodies the organization is not in this manner infinitely deep.
Fine Art, in this as in all things, imitates the method of Nature and makes its most beautiful works out of materials that are themselves beautiful. So that even if the difference between verse and prose consisted only in measure, that difference would already be analogous to that between jewels and clay.
The stuff of language is words, and the sensuous material of words is sound; if language therefore is to be made perfect, its materials must be made beautiful by being themselves subjected to a measure, and endowed with a form.
It is true that language is a symbol for intelligence rather than a stimulus to sense, and accordingly the beauties of discourse which commonly attract attention are merely the beauties of the objects and ideas signified; yet the symbols have a sensible reality of their own, a euphony which appeals to our senses if we keep them open.
The tongue will choose those forms of utterance which have a natural grace as mere sound and sensation; the memory will retain these catches, and they will pass and repass through the mind until they become types of instinctive speech and standards of pleasing expression.
The highest form of such euphony is song; the singing voice gives to the sounds it utters the thrill of tonality—a thrill itself dependent, as we know, on the numerical proportions of the vibrations that it includes. But this kind of euphony and sensuous beauty, the deepest that sounds can have, we have almost wholly surrendered in our speech.
Our intelligence has become complex, and language, to express our thoughts, must commonly be more rapid, copious, and abstract than is compatible with singing.
Music at the same time has become complex also, and when united with words, at one time disfigures them in the elaboration of its melody, and at another overpowers them in the volume of its sound.
So that the art of singing is now in the same plight as that of sculpture—an abstract and conventional thing surviving by force of tradition and of an innate but now impotent impulse, which under simpler conditions would work itself out into the proper forms of those arts.
The truest kind of euphony is thus denied to our poetry. If any verses are still set to music, they are commonly the worst only, chosen for the purpose by musicians of specialized sensibility and inferior intelligence, who seem to be attracted only by tawdry effects of rhetoric and sentiment.
When song is given up, there still remains in speech a certain sensuous quality, due to the nature and order of the vowels and consonants that compose the sounds. This kind of euphony is not neglected by the more dulcet poets, and is now so studied in some quarters that I have heard it maintained by a critic of relative authority that the beauty of poetry consists entirely in the frequent utterance of the sound of "j" and "sh," and in the consequent copious flow of saliva in the mouth.
But even if saliva is not the whole essence of poetry, there is an unmistakable and fundamental diversity of effect in the various vocalization of different poets, which becomes all the more evident when we compare those who use different languages. So Byronmingling in his boyish fashion burlesque with exquisite sentiment, contrasts English with Italian speech: And yet these contrasts, strong when we compare extreme cases, fade from our consciousness in the actual use of a mother-tongue.
The function makes us unconscious of the instrument, all the more as it is an indispensable and almost invariable one. The sense of euphony accordingly attaches itself rather to another and more variable quality; the tune, or measure, or rhythm of speech.
The elementary sounds are prescribed by the language we use, and the selection we may make among those sounds is limited; but he arrangement of words is still undetermined, and by casting our speech into the moulds of metre and rhyme we can give it a heightened power, apart from its significance.
A tolerable definition of poetry, on its formal side, might be found in this: As common windows are intended only to admit the light, but painted windows also to dye it, and to be an object of attention in themselves as well as a cause of visibility in other things, so, while the purest prose is a mere vehicle of thought, verse, like stained glass, arrests attention in its own intricacies, confuses it in its own glories, and is even at time allowed to darken and puzzle in the hope of casting over us a supernatural spell.
Such poetry is not great; it has, in fact, a tedious vacuity, and is unworthy of a mature mind; but it is poetical, and could be produced only by a legitimate child of the Muse.
It belongs to an apprenticeship, but in this case the apprenticeship of genius. It bears that relation to great poems which scales and aimless warblings bear to great singing—they test the essential endowment and fineness of the organ which is to be employed in the art.
Without this sensuous background and ingrained predisposition to beauty, no art can reach the deepest and most exquisite effect; and even without an intelligible superstructure these sensuous qualities suffice to give that thrill of exaltation, that suggestion of an ideal world, which we feel in the presence of any true beauty.See also the pages.
The poetry of Seamus Heaney: flawed success Seamus Heaney: ethical depth? His responses to the British army during the Troubles in Northern Ireland, bullfighting, the Colosseum, 'pests,' 9/11, IRA punishment, the starving or hungry, the hunger strikers in Northern Ireland.
X.J. Kennedy & Dana Gioia developed Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing, Thirteenth Edition with two major goals in mind: to introduce college students to the appreciation and experience of literature in its major forms and to develop the student’s ability to think.
The analysis of translation aims to show that the narrative features are lost in translation or not. It is nature of translation that there are always losses and gains in the translation.
Maybe, in this translation of the Faulknerâ€™s A Rose for Emily, there are gains as well as losses. is and in to a was not you i of it the be he his but for are this that by on at they with which she or from had we will have an what been one if would who has her.
Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing, Compact Interactive Edition, 6th Edition. Download-Theses Mercredi 10 juin