ENLL111 Poetry Anthology PDF

Preview

Summary

This attachment allows you to be aware of all the poems you will be doing.What is amazing is that the poems are also included....

Description

ENLL 111 Poetry Anthology 2019 “Matty Groves” (17th C)!.......................................................................................................................!1! “Shall I compare thee to summer’s day?” (1608) – William Shakespeare!............................................!2! Holy Sonnet 10: “Death be not proud” (1633) - John Donne!................................................................!2! “Easter Wings” (1633) - George Herbert!...............................................................................................!2! “She dwelt among the untrodden ways” (1798) - William Wordsworth!...............................................!3! “The Destruction of Sennacherib” (1815) – Lord Byron!.......................................................................!3! “My last Duchess” (1842) - Robert Browning!......................................................................................!4! “The Eagle” (1851) - Lord Alfred Tennyson!.........................................................................................!5! ““Hope” is the thing with feathers” (1861) - Emily Dickinson!.............................................................!5! “God’s grandeur” (1877) - Gerard Manley Hopkins!.............................................................................!6! “Eve” (1917) – Ralph Hodgson!.............................................................................................................!6! “The Second Coming” (1919) – William Butler Yeats!.........................................................................!7! “One Year After” (1922) - Claude McKay!............................................................................................!8! “Elemental” (1923) - D.H. Lawrence!....................................................................................................!9! “she being Brand” (1926) – E.E. Cummings!.........................................................................................!9! “Funeral Blues” (1938) - W.H. Auden!................................................................................................!10! “My Papa's Waltz” (1942) - Theodore Roethke!..................................................................................!11! “pity this busy monster, manunkind” (1944) - E. E. Cummings!.........................................................!11! “Harlem” (1951) - Langston Hughes!...................................................................................................!11! “The Emperor of Ice-cream” (1954) – Wallace Stevens!.....................................................................!12! “Daddy” (1965) – Sylvia Plath!............................................................................................................!12! “Metaphors” (1959) - Sylvia Plath!......................................................................................................!14! “Follower” (1966) - Seamus Heaney!...................................................................................................!14! “Rwanda: Where Tears Have No Power” (1969) - Haki R. Madhubuti!..............................................!15! “Anguish Longer Than Sorrow” (1970s) - Keorapetse Kgositsile!......................................................!16! “City Johannesburg*” (1972) - Mongane Wally Serote!......................................................................!17! “The Will” (1970s) - Sipho Sepamla!...................................................................................................!18! “To Whom It May Concern” (1973) - Sipho Sepamla!........................................................................!18! “One Art” (1976) – Elizabeth Bishop!..................................................................................................!19! “Still I Rise” (1978) – Maya Angelou!.................................................................................................!20! “Winnie Mandela We Love You” (1980s) - Alice Walker!..................................................................!21! “Feeling Fucked Up” (1986) - Etheridge Knight!.................................................................................!22! “Wild Geese” (1986) - Mary Oliver!....................................................................................................!23! “The Dancer” (1988) - Gcina Mhlophe!...............................................................................................!23! “A Season of Modesty” (2005) – Gabeba Baderoon!...........................................................................!24! ! !

“The Legend of Vera” (2006) - Phillippa Yaa De Villiers!..................................................................!24! “Icarus” (2017) – Wayne Visser!..........................................................................................................!26! “Seafront” (2017) – Kelwyn Sole!........................................................................................................!26! “His Gentle Breath” (2018) – Athol Williams!.....................................................................................!27! !

“Matty Groves” (17th C) A holiday, a holiday, And the first one of the year. Lord Darnell’s wife came into church, The gospel for to hear. And when the meeting it was done, She cast her eyes about, And there she saw little Matty Groves, Walking in the crowd.

5

“Come home with me, little Matty Groves, Come home with me tonight. Come home with me, little Matty Groves, And sleep with me till light.’’

10

“Oh, I can’t come home, I won’t come home And sleep with you tonight, By the rings on your fingers I can tell You are lord Darnell’s wife.’’

15

“What if I am lord Darnell’s wife? Lord Darnell’s not at home. For he is out in the far cornfields, Bringing the yearlings home.’’

20

And a servant who was standing by And hearing what was said, He swore lord Darnell he would know Before the sun would set. And in his hurry to carry the news, He bent his breast and ran, And when he came to the broad mill stream, He took off his shoes and swam.

25

Little Matty Groves, he lay down And took a little sleep. When he awoke, lord Darnell he Was standing at his feet.

30

Saying, “How do you like my feather bed? ! !

And how do you like my sheets? How do you like my lady Who lies in your arms asleep?”

35

“Oh, well I like your feather bed, And well I like your sheets. But better I like your lady gay Who lies in my arms asleep.’’

40

“Well, get up, get up,’’ Lord Darnell cried, “Get up as quick as you can! It’ll never be said in fair England That I slew a naked man.’’ “Oh, I can’t get up, I won’t get up, I can’t get up for my life. For you have two long beaten swords And I not a pocket-knife.”

45

“Well it’s true I have two beaten swords, And they cost me deep in the purse. But you will have the better of them And I will have the worse.”

50

“And you will strike the very first blow, And strike it like a man. I will strike the very next blow, And I’ll kill you if I can.”

55

So Matty struck the very first blow, And he hurt lord Darnell sore. Lord Darnell struck the very next blow, And Matty struck no more.

60

And then lord Darnell took his wife And he sat her on his knee, Saying, “Who do you like the best of us, Matty Groves or me?” And then up spoke his own dear wife, Never heard to speak so free. “I’d rather a kiss from dead Matty’s lips Than you and your finery.”

65

Lord Darnell he jumped up And loudly he did bawl, He struck his wife right through the heart And pinned her against the wall.

70

“A grave, a grave!’’ lord Darnell cried, “To put these lovers in. 1!

!

But bury my lady at the top For she was of noble kin.”

75

!

“Shall I compare thee to summer’s day?” (1608) – William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

5

10

!

Holy Sonnet 10: “Death be not proud” (1633) - John Donne Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me; From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and souls’ delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death thou shalt die. “Easter Wings” (1633) - George Herbert Lord, who created man in wealth and store Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more Till he became Most poor: With thee O let me rise As larks harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories: 2!

!

5

10

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did begin: And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sin, That I became Most thin. With thee Let me combine, And feel thy victory: For, if I imp my wing on thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me. !

“She dwelt among the untrodden ways” (1798) - William Wordsworth She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.

5

She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!

10

“The Destruction of Sennacherib” (1815) – Lord Byron The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 3!

!

5

10

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

15

20

And the widows of Ashur are loud in the wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

“My last Duchess” (1842) - Robert Browning Ferrara That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf’s hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said Frà Pandolf” by design, for never read Strangers like you that pictured countenance, The depth and passion of its earnest glance, But to myself they turned (since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, How such a glance came there; so, not the first Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ‘twas not Her husband’s presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps Frà Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat:” such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart – how shall I say? – too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. Sir, ‘twas all one! My favour at her breast, The dropping of the daylight in the west, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace – all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least. She thanked men, -- good! but thanked Somehow – I know not how – as if she ranked 4!

!

5

10

15

20

25

30

My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame This sort of trifling? Even had you skill In speech – (which I have not) – to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark” – and if she let Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, --E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, When e’er I passed her; but who passed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your master’s known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretence Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

35

40

45

50

55

“The Eagle” (1851) - Lord Alfred Tennyson He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.

5

““Hope” is the thing with feathers” (1861) - Emily Dickinson “Hope” is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops - at all And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm -

5

I’ve heard it in the chillest land And on the strangest Sea -

10 5!

!

Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. “God’s grandeur” (1877) - Gerard Manley Hopkins The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs – Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

5

10

“Eve” (1917) – Ralph Hodgson Eve, with her basket, was Deep in the bells and grass, Wading in bells and grass Up to her knees, Picking a dish of sweet Berries and plums to eat, Down in the bells and grass Under the trees. Mute as a mouse in a Corner the cobra lay, Curled round a bough of the Cinnamon tall…. Now to get even and Humble proud heaven and Now was the moment or Never at all. ‘Eva!’ Each syllable Light as a flower fell, ‘Eva!’ he whispered the Wondering maid, Soft as a bubble sung Out of a linnet’s lung, Soft and most silverly ‘Eva!’ he said. Picture that orchard’s sprite, Eve, with her body white, Supple and smooth to her

5

10

15

20

25

6!

!

Slim finger tips. Wondering, listening, Listening, wondering, Eve with a berry Half-way to her lips. Oh had our simple Eve Seen through the make -believe! Had she but known the Pretender he was! Out of the boughs he came, Whispering still her name, Tumbling in twenty rings Into the grass. Here was the strangest pair In the world anywhere, Eve in the bells and grass Kneeling, and he Telling the story low…. Singing birds saw them go Down the dark path to The Blasphemous Tree. O what a clatter when Titmouse and Jenny Wren Saw him successful and Taking his leave! How the birds rated him, How they all hated him! How they all pitied Poor motherless Eve! Picture her crying Outside in the lane, Eve, with no dish of sweet Berries and plums to eat, Haunting the gate of the Orchard in vain…. Picture the lewd delight Under the hill to-night ‘Eva!’ the toast goes round, ‘Eva!’ again.

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

!

“The Second Coming” (1919) – William Butler Yeats Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst 7!

!

5

Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

10

15

20

“One Year After” (1922) - Claude McKay I Not once in all our days of poignant love, Did I a single instant give to thee My undivided being wholly free. Not all thy potent passion could remove The barrier that loomed between to prove The full supreme surrendering of me. Oh, I was beaten, helpless utterly Against the shadow-fact with which I strove. For when a cruel power forced me to face The truth which poisoned our illicit wine, That even I was faithless to my race Bleeding beneath the iron hand of thine, Our union seemed a monstrous thing and base! I was an outcast from thy world and mine. II Adventure-seasoned and storm-buffeted, I shun all signs of anchorage, because The zest of life exceeds the bound of laws. New gales of tropic fury round my head Break lashing me through hours of soulful dread; But when the terror thins and, spent, withdraws, Leaving me wondering awhile, I pause-But soon again the risky ways I tread! No rigid road for me, no peace, no rest, While molten elements run through my blood; And beauty-burning bodies manifest Their warm, heart-melting motions to be wooed; And passion b...