“Dover Beach”
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
—Matthew Arnold, first published, 1867
One of the great poems of the Victorian period, "Dover Beach" was composed by English writer Matthew Arnold while on his honeymoon in 1851. Arnold, professor of poetry at Oxford University, published the work in his collection New Poems. Today, Arnold is seen as a bridge between the romantic verse of Wordsworth and the modern poetry of the twentieth century. "Dover Beach," with its classical allusions, evocative melancholy, and plain descriptive power, is a superb example of this union.
“Dog's Death" : John Updike
Dog's Death
by John Updike
She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"
We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.
Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried
To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.
Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
About John Updike
Best known for his novels, including the series of books about the character Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom, John Updike (1932–2009) was also an accomplished poet; his writing career began with a poem published in the New Yorker in 1954 and his first published book was a collection of poetry. Written in 1958, "Dog's Death" is a moving narrative about the loss of a puppy. Updike later wrote "Another Dog's Death" about losing an old canine companion. Both poems can be found in his Collected Poems, 1953–1993.
by John Updike
She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"
We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.
Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried
To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.
Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
About John Updike
Best known for his novels, including the series of books about the character Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom, John Updike (1932–2009) was also an accomplished poet; his writing career began with a poem published in the New Yorker in 1954 and his first published book was a collection of poetry. Written in 1958, "Dog's Death" is a moving narrative about the loss of a puppy. Updike later wrote "Another Dog's Death" about losing an old canine companion. Both poems can be found in his Collected Poems, 1953–1993.
“Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?" by Christopher Marlowe
"Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?"
by Christopher Marlowe
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
About "Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?" by Christopher Marlowe:
A contemporary of Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593) was a renowned poet and playwright during his life. He was a great influence on Shakespeare, who paid tribute to this poem in As You Like It: "Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?" Marlowe was murdered before his 30th birthday, but left Doctor Faustus and other still-produced plays and several books of poetry.
"Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?" takes up the subject of fate on our life choices, also a common theme in Shakespeare. Modern scholars have questioned Marlowe's sexual orientation, and this poem certainly provides a powerful argument that who we are attracted to is beyond our control.
Video:
by Christopher Marlowe
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
About "Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?" by Christopher Marlowe:
"Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?" takes up the subject of fate on our life choices, also a common theme in Shakespeare. Modern scholars have questioned Marlowe's sexual orientation, and this poem certainly provides a powerful argument that who we are attracted to is beyond our control.
Video:
“After Love" by Sara Teasdale
After Love
(Sara Teasdale)
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.
(Sara Teasdale)
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.
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