Fri 26 Jan 2007

When it comes to poetry I don’t have sophisticated taste. I just like what I like and usually that is what other people like also. I inherited my favorite poem book from my grandmother. It is an old leather covered copy of One Hundred and One Famous Poems with a Prose Supplement. For many years all of our poetry selections came from that book. The children didn’t get to spend too much time looking at the book though because it was too precious. Now I try to buy old copies of it whenever I see it. The copy we use at this time doesn’t even have a cover. I was happy to find out it is the same poem book Marva Collins used in her school.
I suppose my taste in art is as pedantic pedestrian as my taste in poetry. I like what appeals to my eye. Right now I am in love with John Constable and everytime I see one of his pictures I want to read travel books about England. I spend my spare time dreaming about my future walking tour of England. Will it be a How the Heather Looks tour, an Inklings tour, a Charing Cross
tour or maybe a Constable tour. I don’t suppose it will make me happy at all. I will just long for more.
The above picture is one of Constable’s pictures of Brighton Beach.
Tennyson’s Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
The bar is speaking of a sand bar. When people living along the ocean in England heard the moaning of the bar they said someone had died. Sunset and evening star. It truly is a lovely poem.
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I haven’t learned about Constable yet but I do know Tennyson and love this poem. Must add Constable to my list of friends to meet. He’ll have to wait in the queue for I’m quite busy wih Mr. Turner currently.
Comment by Mrs. Happy Housewife (January 26, 2007 @ 10:28 am )
Do you know about the Constable exhibit that just left the National Gallery?
http://www.artcyclopedia.com/feature.html
Now the field trip will have to be to California
Blessings from GA,
Dana
Comment by Dana (January 26, 2007 @ 11:03 am )
Cindy,
You must add a Jane Austen walking tour of Bath to your list, it goes through the very historic city and up,down and through rolling hills, it is exquisite to say the very least, dont stop to “drink the waters” it really is nasty stuff. But you must not miss Tintagel as it is magical being at Camelot. Dont forget the Moors, which really are enchanced by wind and rain, those Gothic writers had something right. Keep dreaming!
Comment by Faith Proctor (January 26, 2007 @ 11:28 am )
I have an old copy of that same book–I’ve had it since I was 12. It’s inscribed “To Mother from Jack, 1945″ and I assume Jack was one of our relative but that’s all I know about Mother and Jack. The pictures of the poets are a little frightening, but the poems are wonderful.
Comment by Mama Squirrel (January 26, 2007 @ 1:14 pm )
Nice post, Cindy. We enjoy Constable and Tennyson at our house, too. I have so many poetry collections I would be hard-pressed to name a favorite, but if I had to choose a trip overseas, it would most certainly be to the British Isles. That painting reminded me of John Masefield’s Sea-Fever. Mind if I share?
I must go down to the seas again to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sails shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume and the seagull crying.
I must go down to the sea again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife:
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trip’s over.
Comment by Emily (January 26, 2007 @ 2:38 pm )
Lovely post, and that 101 poems books is one of my favorites, too.
I think you meant pedestrian rather than pedantic, didn’t you? If you did, then mine, too.
Comment by DeputyHeadmistress (January 26, 2007 @ 3:08 pm )
Yes, I do mean pedestrian now that I take a minute to look up the words
Comment by Cindy (January 26, 2007 @ 6:26 pm )
I found the first verse of this poem on a headstone today as I walked around a family cemetary plot; and so I wrote it down and googled it. Your site is what I came to. Thanks for enlightening me. I feel so full of knowledge now!
Comment by Brandy (October 3, 2007 @ 9:33 pm )