19th-Century English Poetry

DPF / Coleridge

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What? No Coleridge? This is the four-day countdown to end the run of no repeats. Beginning 1/1/16, I will no longer seek a new poet each day, but will pull favorite fragments willy nilly; I think I will have made it through two years of no individual poet repeats, except for Christmas Eve’s Moore and the days we lost Tate and Strand. This one’s for the last week of my favorite month, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Fragment 3: Come, come thou bleak December / by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!

DPF / Brontë

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For houses empty and full and also for those empty though full, from Poem A Day, Volume 2, edited by Laurie Sheck.

from All Hushed and Still within the House / by Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

Through rain and through the wailing wind,
Never again.
Never again?

DPF / Hood

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Last day for silence this week. And, more here and here:
http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/silence-1
http://www.poemhunter.com/thomas-hood/biography/

from Silence / by Thomas Hood b. 1789

There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,

DPF / Hardy

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from The Darkling Thrush / by Thomas Hardy

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,    
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul     
Upon the growing gloom.

DPF / Clare

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And, many things remind me of Clare and his sad path.

from From ‘April,’ The Shepherd’s Calendar / by John Clare

But finer days are coming yet,
With scenes more sweet to charm,
And suns arrive that rise and set
Bright strangers to a storm:

DPF / Rossetti

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On my little sister’s birthday. Happy birthday by the sea!

from A Birthday / by Christina Rossetti

My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.

DPF / Tennyson

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And, nightmares remind me of mirrors and mirrors of Tennyson and Tennyson of the (fatal yet) essential moment in which she turns and looks directly at the world.

from The Lady of Shalott / by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

With a steady stony glance—
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance —
      She look’d down to Camelot.

DPF / Hopkins

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Back to the birds.

from The Windhover / by Gerard Manley Hopkins

My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!