Friday, 14 August 2009

Culture Wars - P Is For Poetry

I caught this morning morning’s minion,
kingdom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

I love this poem, and it's still the only poem I can quote - in full - from memory. I had to do it for O level English, and have never forgotten it. I wonder if it's still on the curriculum?

I love the cadence and rhythm of its opening verse, and the way it drives the reader on to completion of the whole poem.

Tomorrow, S is for Sculpture.


Anonymous said...

A man suffered some torment to sculpture so well with words.

David Duff said...

Instantly reminded me of this:

JuliaM said...

Ahhh, yes, that's a great one!

David Gillies said...

I'm awful at memorising poetry, but the one I can rattle off flawlessly is Keats's On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer. For me it perfectly encapsulates the thrill I get when I surmount an intellectual peak. I might be treading in the footsteps of previous explorers, but no matter: it's the first time I've been there.