As an ardent devotee of literature and a long time literature student, selecting just a few great lines in poetry is going to be hard. Great poetry has the power to move and to change perception, to inspire and capture the essence of life in a rhyming couplet.
Great poets like Shakespeare, Dante, and Milton have changed the way people view the world we live in. Often the rich and evocative language has seeped into the consciousness of the populace without most people even realising it. Unbeknown to themselves, everyday people use words and quote phrases Shakespeare invented over four hundred years ago.
Appreciating great poetry itself though is something which is quite personal. A poem which has the power to greatly move an individual may have little or no affect on the next person. However what I would like to do in this article is to share five personal favourite poems. In no particular order, and choosing only one selection from each poet, here they are:
From "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
It's very difficult to choose just one from Shakespeare, but Macbeth has always been one of my favourite Shakespeare plays. The sheer dread in which Macbeth utters in these lines has stayed with me since I first became aware of them. The utter bleakness in these lines and the almost sarcastic energy in "struts and frets" evoke a deep bitterness about the very nature of life itself.
From "La Belle Dame San Merci" by John Keats.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
This, and "To Autumn" by John Keats are my favourite Keats' poems. The extract above is the close of the poem represents a longing, a hopeless wait for a lost love. The quietness and finality depicted in the close of this poem is utterly moving.
From "Tintern Abbey" by William Wordsworth.
and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.
Wordsworth is perhaps my favourite poet, and although this selection is quite a long one, it has been a piece that has stayed with me for a long time. I committed the poem to memory years ago but it is this particular extract which contains the natural healing philosophy of being close to nature which I greatly admire. Nature, according to Wordsworth can restore the mind to all the "sneers of selfish men" and all the "dreary intercourse of daily life". It is a very powerful philosophy and a calming mantra to use when the hustle and bustle of daily live closes in on us.
From "Paradise Lost" - Book 1 by John Milton.
Here at least
We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
For the past year, Milton's "Paradise Lost" has not been far from my side. I read it as part of my studies, but it has been something which I dip into almost daily. I love the powerful, fiery language which Milton uses to describe Satan and hell throughout the book, though especially in books one and two. For pure descriptive power I don't think I have come across anything like Milton before. Very powerful stuff.
From Sonnet xxxI of "Astrophel and Stella " by Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
I first came across Philip Sidney several years ago as part of a class, and was immediately struck by his clever little sonnets. This sonnet is part of a larger sonnet cycle in which Astrophel confesses his love to Stella which is not reciprocated. The pain of this misplaced love is captured here as Astrophel can only see the world and the elements in terms of sadness. I think it is quite a wonderful piece.
The works of poetry which we have available within easy reach is unthinkable in its number. We can never hope to read even the smallest percentage of the poems written in just one year, there is no way we can attempt to tackle the huge amount available to us. The joy is in coming, sometimes by sheer chance, across different works or lines from different poems, and in that instance we connect with the poet or narrator and we feel that somehow we belong. Quite simply, poetry is magical.