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Characteristics of Victorian Poetry • Romantic in subject matter • Personal melancholy • Religion • Dramatic monologues • Pessimistic view • Focused on present time and concerns for contemporary issues • Varied and diverse poetry • Individualism • Liberty • Social Reforms.
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Characteristics of Victorian Poetry •Romantic in subject matter •Personal melancholy •Religion •Dramatic monologues •Pessimistic view •Focused on present time and concerns for contemporary issues •Varied and diverse poetry •Individualism •Liberty •Social Reforms
“When I Was One-and-Twenty” by: A.E. Housman When I was one-and-twentyI heard a wise man say,'Give crowns and pounds and guineasBut not your heart away;Give pearls away and rubiesBut keep your fancy free.'But I was one-and-twenty,No use to talk to me. When I was one-and-twentyI heard him say again,'The heart out of the bosomWas never given in vain;'Tis paid with sighs a plentyAnd sold for endless rue.'And I am two-and-twenty,And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.
Paraphrased When I was 21 years old A smart man said to me Give away money and possessions But do not give your heart away Give away jewelry and gems But keep your heart safe But I was 21 years old And I would not listen to anyone When I was 21 years old He told me again The heart Was never given without Sorrow and sadness And pain was endured And now I am twenty two I have experienced this pain and I know he is right
“Tears, Idle Tears” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,Tears from the depth of some divine despairRise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,And thinking of the days that are no more.Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,That brings our friends up from the underworld,Sad as the last which reddens over oneThat sinks with all we love below the verge;So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawnsThe earliest pipe of half-awakened birdsTo dying ears, when unto dying eyesThe casement slowly grows a glimmering square;So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.Dear as remembered kisses after death,And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feignedOn lips that are for others; deep as love,Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
“Tears, Idle Tears” Paraphrased Tears, I do not know what they mean They are from the depths of my soul They are from my heart and display in my eyes They come from looking at the Autumn fields And thinking of days past. They are as fresh as the first beam of sunlight glittering on a sail That bring the dead up from below They are as sad as the light that shines As the boat is taking the dead back below So sad and fresh that these days are past As sad and strange an the dark summer mornings When the birds sing in the morning To the dead who see and hear They look at the glimmering square of light It is so sad and strange that the days are gone from the past As remembered as kisses from those that have past And as sweet as love that is longed for With ones who are already are taken As deep as first true love, and just as wild It is death in life, to think of the days that will come no more.
“Remember” by Christina Rossetti Remember me when I am gone away Gone far away into the silent land When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann'd: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad
Victorian Poetry The End