Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Writing about Literature

This handout describes some steps for planning and writing papers about fiction texts. For information on writing about other kinds of literature, please see the Writing Center's handouts on writing about drama and poetry explications.

Demystifying the process

Writing an analysis of a piece of fiction can be a mystifying process. First, literary analyses (or papers that offer an interpretation of a story) rely on the assumption that stories must mean something. How does a story mean something? Isn’t a story just an arrangement of characters and events? And if the author wanted to convey a meaning, wouldn’t he or she be much better off writing an essay just telling us what he or she meant?
It’s pretty easy to see how at least some stories convey clear meanings or morals. Just think about a parable like the prodigal son or a nursery tale about "crying wolf." Stories like these are reduced down to the bare elements, giving us just enough detail to lead us to their main points, and because they are relatively easy to understand and tend to stick in our memories, they’re often used in some kinds of education.
But if the meanings were always as clear as they are in parables, who would really need to write a paper analyzing them? Interpretations of fiction would not be interesting if the meanings of the stories were clear to everyone who reads them. Thankfully (or perhaps regrettably, depending on your perspective) the stories we’re asked to interpret in our classes are a good bit more complicated than most parables. They use characters, settings, and actions to illustrate issues that have no easy resolution. They show different sides of a problem, and they can raise new questions. In short, the stories we read in class have meanings that are arguable and complicated, and it’s our job to sort them out.

It might seem that the stories do have specific meanings, and the instructor has already decided what those meanings are. Not true. Instructors can be pretty dazzling (or mystifying) with their interpretations, but that’s because they have a lot of practice with stories and have developed a sense of the kinds of things to look for. Even so, the most well-informed professor rarely arrives at conclusions that someone else wouldn’t disagree with. In fact, most professors are aware that their interpretations are debatable and actually love a good argument. But let’s not go to the other extreme. To say that there is no one answer is not to say that anything we decide to say about a novel or short story is valid, interesting, or valuable. Interpretations of fiction are often opinions, but not all opinions are equal.

So what makes a valid and interesting opinion? A good interpretation of fiction will:
  • avoid the obvious (in other words, it won’t argue a conclusion that most readers could reach on their own from a general knowledge of the story)
  • support its main points with strong evidence from the story
  • use careful reasoning to explain how that evidence relates to the main points of the interpretation.
The following steps are intended as a guide through the difficult process of writing an interpretive paper that meets these criteria. Writing tends to be a highly individual task, so adapt these suggestions to fit your own habits and inclinations.

 

Writing a paper on fiction in 9 steps

1. Become familiar with the text.
There’s no substitute for a good general knowledge of your story. A good paper inevitably begins with the writer having a solid understanding of the work that he or she interprets. Being able to have the whole book, short story, or play in your head—at least in a general way—when you begin thinking through ideas will be a great help and will actually allow you to write the paper more quickly in the long run. It's even a good idea to spend some time just thinking about the story. Flip back through the book and consider what interests you about this piece of writing—what seemed strange, new, or important?

2. Explore potential topics
Perhaps your instructor has given you a list of topics to choose, or perhaps you have been asked to create your own. Either way, you'll need to generate ideas to use in the paper—even with an assigned topic, you'll have to develop your own interpretation. Let's assume for now that you are choosing your own topic.
After reading your story, a topic may just jump out at you, or you may have recognized a pattern or identified a problem that you’d like to think about in more detail. What is a pattern or a problem?

A pattern can be the recurrence of certain kinds of imagery or events. Usually, repetition of particular aspects of a story (similar events in the plot, similar descriptions, even repetition of particular words) tends to render those elements more conspicuous. Let’s say I’m writing a paper on Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein. In the course of reading that book, I keep noticing the author’s use of biblical imagery: Victor Frankenstein anticipates that "a new species would bless me as its creator and source" (52) while the monster is not sure whether to consider himself as an Adam or a Satan. These details might help me interpret the way characters think about themselves and about each other, as well as allow me to infer what the author might have wanted her reader to think by using the Bible as a frame of reference. On another subject, I also notice that the book repeatedly refers to types of education. The story mentions books that its characters read and the different contexts in which learning takes place.

A problem, on the other hand, is something in the story that bugs you or that doesn’t seem to add up. A character might act in some way that’s unaccountable, a narrator may leave out what we think is important information (or may focus on something that seems trivial), or a narrator or character may offer an explanation that doesn’t seem to make sense to us. Not all problems lead in interesting directions, but some definitely do and even seem to be important parts of the story. In Frankenstein, Victor works day and night to achieve his goal of bringing life to the dead, but once he realizes his goal, he is immediately repulsed by his creation and runs away. Why? Is there something wrong with his creation, something wrong with his goal in the first place, or something wrong with Victor himself? The book doesn’t give us a clear answer but seems to invite us to interpret this problem.

If nothing immediately strikes you as interesting or no patterns or problems jump out at you, don’t worry. Just start making a list of whatever you remember from your reading, regardless of how insignificant it may seem to you now. Consider a character’s peculiar behavior or comments, the unusual way the narrator describes an event, or the author’s placement of an action in an odd context. (Step 5 will cover some further elements of fiction that you might find useful at this stage as well.)

There’s a good chance that some of these intriguing moments and oddities will relate to other points in the story, eventually revealing some kind of pattern and giving you potential topics for your paper. Also keep in mind that if you found something peculiar in the story you’re writing about, chances are good that other people will have been perplexed by these moments in the story as well and will be interested to see how you make sense of it all. It's even a good idea to test your ideas out on a friend, a classmate, or an instructor since talking about your ideas will help you develop them and push them beyond obvious interpretations of the story. And it's only by pushing those ideas that you can write a paper that raises interesting issues or problems and that offers creative interpretations related to those issues.

3. Select a topic with a lot of evidence
If you’re selecting from a number of possible topics, narrow down your list by identifying how much evidence or how many specific details you could use to investigate each potential issue. Do this step just off the top of your head. Keep in mind that persuasive papers rely on ample evidence and that having a lot of details to choose from can also make your paper easier to write.

It might be helpful at this point to jot down all the events or elements of the story that have some bearing on the two or three topics that seem most promising. This can give you a more visual sense of how much evidence you will have to work with on each potential topic. It’s during this activity that having a good knowledge of your story will come in handy and save you a lot of time. Don’t launch into a topic without considering all the options first because you may end up with a topic that seemed promising initially but that only leads to a dead end.

4. Write out a working thesis
Based on the evidence that relates to your topic—and what you anticipate you might say about those pieces of evidence—come up with a working thesis. Don’t spend a lot of time composing this statement at this stage since it will probably change (and a changing thesis statement is a good sign that you’re starting to say more interesting and complex things on your subject). At this point in my Frankenstein project, I’ve become interested in ideas on education that seem to appear pretty regularly, and I have a general sense that aspects of Victor’s education lead to tragedy. Without considering things too deeply, I’ll just write something like "Victor Frankenstein’s tragic ambition was fueled by a faulty education."

5. Make an extended list of evidence
Once you have a working topic in mind, skim back over the story and make a more comprehensive list of the details that relate to your point. For my paper about education in Frankenstein, I’ll want to take notes on what Victor Frankenstein reads at home, where he goes to school and why, what he studies at school, what others think about those studies, etc. And even though I’m primarily interested in Victor’s education, at this stage in the writing, I’m also interested in moments of education in the novel that don’t directly involve this character. These other examples might provide a context or some useful contrasts that could illuminate my evidence relating to Victor. With this goal in mind, I’ll also take notes on how the monster educates himself, what he reads, and what he learns from those he watches. As you make your notes keep track of page numbers so you can quickly find the passages in your book again and so you can easily document quoted passages when you write without having to fish back through the book.

At this point, you want to include anything, anything, that might be useful, and you also want to avoid the temptation to arrive at definite conclusions about your topic. Remember that one of the qualities that makes for a good interpretation is that it avoids the obvious. You want to develop complex ideas, and the best way to do that is to keep your ideas flexible until you’ve considered the evidence carefully. A good gauge of complexity is whether you feel you understand more about your topic than you did when you began (and even just reaching a higher state of confusion is a good indicator that you’re treating your topic in a complex way).
When you jot down ideas, you can focus on the observations from the narrator or things that certain characters say or do. These elements are certainly important. It might help you come up with more evidence if you also take into account some of the broader components that go into making fiction, things like plot, point of view, character, setting, and symbols.

Plot is the string of events that go into the narrative. Think of this as the "who did what to whom" part of the story. Plots can be significant in themselves since chances are pretty good that some action in the story will relate to your main idea. For my paper on education in Frankenstein, I’m interested in Victor’s going to the University of Ingolstadt to realize his father’s wish that Victor attend school where he could learn about a another culture. Plots can also allow you to make connections between the story you’re interpreting and some other stories, and those connections might be useful in your interpretation. For example, the plot of Frankenstein, which involves a man who desires to bring life to the dead and creates a monster in the process, bears some similarity to the ancient Greek story of Icarus who flew too close to the sun on his wax wings. Both tell the story of a character who reaches too ambitiously after knowledge and suffers dire consequences.
Your plot could also have similarities to whole groups of other stories, all having conventional or easily recognizable plots. These types of stories are often called genres. Some popular genres include the gothic, the romance, the detective story, the bildungsroman (this is just a German term for a novel that is centered around the development of its main characters), and the novel of manners (a novel that focuses on the behavior and foibles of a particular class or social group). These categories are often helpful in characterizing a piece of writing, but this approach has its limitations. Many novels don’t fit nicely into one genre, and others seem to borrow a bit from a variety of different categories. For example, given my working thesis on education, I am more interested in Victor's development than in relating Frankenstein to the gothic genre, so I might decide to treat the novel as a bildungsroman.

And just to complicate matters that much more, genre can sometimes take into account not only the type of plot but the form the novelist uses to convey that plot. A story might be told in a series of letters (this is called an epistolary form), in a sequence of journal entries, or in a combination of forms (Frankenstein is actually told as a journal included within a letter).

These matters of form also introduce questions of point of view, that is, who is telling the story and what do they or don’t they know. Is the tale told by an omniscient or all-knowing narrator who doesn’t interact in the events, or is it presented by one of the characters within the story? Can the reader trust that person to give an objective account, or does that narrator color the story with his or her own biases and interests?

Character refers to the qualities assigned to the individual figures in the plot. Consider why the author assigns certain qualities to a character or characters and how any such qualities might relate to your topic. For example, a discussion of Victor Frankenstein’s education might take into account aspects of his character that appear to be developed (or underdeveloped) by the particular kind of education he undertakes. Victor tends to be ambitious, even compulsive about his studies, and I might be able to argue that his tendency to be extravagant leads him to devote his own education to writers who asserted grand, if questionable, conclusions.

Setting is the environment in which all of the actions take place. What is the time period, the location, the time of day, the season, the weather, the type of room or building? What is the general mood, and who is present? All of these elements can reflect on the story’s events, and though the setting of a story tends to be less conspicuous than plot and character, setting still colors everything that’s said and done within its context. If Victor Frankenstein does all of his experiments in "a solitary chamber, or rather a cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all the other apartments by a staircase" (53) we might conclude that there is something anti-social, isolated, and stale, maybe even unnatural about his project and his way of learning.

Obviously, if you consider all of these elements, you’ll probably have too much evidence to fit effectively into one paper. Your goal is merely to consider each of these aspects of fiction and include only those that are most relevant to your topic and most interesting to your reader. A good interpretive paper does not need to cover all elements of the story—plot, genre, narrative form, character, and setting. In fact, a paper that did try to say something about all of these elements would be unfocused. You might find that most of your topic could be supported by a consideration of character alone. That’s fine. For my Frankenstein paper, I’m finding that my evidence largely has to do with the setting, evidence that could lead to some interesting conclusions that my reader probably hasn’t recognized on his or her own.

6. Select your evidence
Once you’ve made your expanded list of evidence, decide which supporting details are the strongest. First, select the facts which bear the closest relation to your thesis statement. Second, choose the pieces of evidence you’ll be able to say the most about. Readers tend to be more dazzled with your interpretations of evidence than with a lot of quotes from the book. It would be useful to refer to Victor Frankenstein’s youthful reading in alchemy, but my reader will be more impressed by some analysis of how the writings of the alchemists—who pursued magical principles of chemistry and physics—reflect the ambition of his own goals. Select the details that will allow you to show off your own reasoning skills and allow you to help the reader see the story in a way he or she may not have seen it before.

7. Refine your thesis
Now it's time to go back to your working thesis and refine it so that it reflects your new understanding of your topic. This step and the previous step (selecting evidence) are actually best done at the same time, since selecting your evidence and defining the focus of your paper depend upon each other. Don't forget to consider the scope of your project: how long is the paper supposed to be, and what can you reasonably cover in a paper of that length? In rethinking the issue of education in Frankenstein, I realize that I can narrow my topic in a number of ways: I could focus on education and culture (Victor’s education abroad), education in the sciences as opposed to the humanities (the monster reads Milton, Goethe, and Plutarch), or differences in learning environments (e.g. independent study, university study, family reading). Since I think I found some interesting evidence in the settings that I can interpret in a way that will get my reader’s attention, I’ll take this last option and refine my working thesis about Victor’s faulty education to something like this: "Victor Frankenstein’s education in unnaturally isolated environments fosters his tragic ambition."

8. Organize your evidence
Once you have a clear thesis you can go back to your list of selected evidence and group all the similar details together. The ideas that tie these clusters of evidence together can then become the claims that you’ll make in your paper. As you begin thinking about what claims you can make (i.e. what kinds of conclusion you can come to) keep in mind that they should not only relate to all the evidence but also clearly support your thesis. Once you’re satisfied with the way you’ve grouped your evidence and with the way that your claims relate to your thesis, you can begin to consider the most logical way to organize each of those claims. To support my thesis about Frankenstein, I’ve decided to group my evidence chronologically. I’ll start with Victor’s education at home, then discuss his learning at the University, and finally address his own experiments. This arrangement will let me show that Victor was always prone to isolation in his education and that this tendency gets stronger as he becomes more ambitious.

There are certainly other organizational options that might work better depending on the type of points I want to stress. I could organize a discussion of education by the various forms of education found in the novel (for example, education through reading, through classrooms, and through observation), by specific characters (education for Victor, the monster, and Victor's bride, Elizabeth), or by the effects of various types of education (those with harmful, beneficial, or neutral effects).

9. Interpret your evidence
Avoid the temptation to load your paper with evidence from your story. Each time you use a specific reference to your story, be sure to explain the significance of that evidence in your own words. To get your readers’ interest, you need to draw their attention to elements of the story that they wouldn’t necessarily notice or understand on their own. If you’re quoting passages without interpreting them, you’re not demonstrating your reasoning skills or helping the reader. In most cases, interpreting your evidence merely involves putting into your paper what is already in your head. Remember that we, as readers, are lazy—all of us. We don’t want to have to figure out a writer’s reasoning for ourselves; we want all the thinking to be done for us in the paper.

General hints

The previous nine steps are intended to give you a sense of the tasks usually involved in writing a good interpretive paper. What follows are just some additional hints that might help you find an interesting topic and maybe even make the process a little more enjoyable.

1. Make your thesis relevant to your readers
You’ll be able to keep your readers' attention more easily if you pick a topic that relates to daily experience. Avoid writing a paper that identifies a pattern in a story but doesn’t quite explain why that pattern leads to an interesting interpretation. Identifying the biblical references in Frankenstein might provide a good start to a paper—Mary Shelley does use a lot of biblical allusions—but a good paper must also tell the reader why those references are meaningful. So what makes an interesting paper topic? Simply put, it has to address issues that we can use in our own lives. Your thesis should be able to answer the brutal question "So what?" Does your paper tell your reader something relevant about the context of the story you’re interpreting or about the human condition?

Some categories, like race, gender, and social class, are dependable sources of interest. This is not to say that all good papers necessarily deal with one of these issues. My thesis on education in Frankenstein does not. But a lot of readers would probably be less interested in reading a paper that traces the instances of water imagery than in reading a paper that compares male or female stereotypes used in a story or that takes a close look at relationships between characters of different races. Again, don’t feel compelled to write on race, gender, or class. The main idea is that you ask yourself whether the topic you’ve selected connects with a major human concern, and there are a lot of options here (for example, issues that relate to economics, family dynamics, education, religion, law, politics, sexuality, history, and psychology, among others).

Also, don’t assume that as long as you address one of these issues, your paper will be interesting. As mentioned in step 2, you need to address these big topics in a complex way. Doing this requires that you don’t go into a topic with a preconceived notion of what you’ll find. Be prepared to challenge your own ideas about what gender, race, or class mean in a particular text.

2. Select a topic of interest to you
Though you may feel like you have to select a topic that sounds like something your instructor would be interested in, don’t overlook the fact that you’ll be more invested in your paper and probably get more out of it if you make the topic something pertinent to yourself. Pick a topic that might allow you to learn about yourself and what you find important.

Of course, your topic can’t entirely be of your choosing. We’re always at the mercy of the evidence that’s available to us. For example, your interest may really be in political issues, but if you’re reading Frankenstein, you might face some difficulties in finding enough evidence to make a good paper on that kind of topic. If, on the other hand, you’re interested in ethics, philosophy, science, psychology, religion, or even geography, you’ll probably have more than enough to write about and find yourself in the good position of having to select only the best pieces of evidence.

3. Make your thesis specific
The effort to be more specific almost always leads to a thesis that will get your reader’s attention, and it also separates you from the crowd as someone who challenges ideas and looks into topics more deeply. A paper about education in general in Frankenstein will probably not get my reader’s attention as much as a more specific topic about the impact of the learning environment on the main character. My readers may have already thought to some extent about ideas of education in the novel, if they have read it, but the chance that they have thought through something more specific like the educational environment is slimmer.

(taken from http://writingcenter.unc.edu/resources/handouts-demos/writing-for-specific-fields/literature-fiction)

Guidelines for Independent Reading Presentations


Each student will present his/her independent reading selection to the rest of the class.  This can be done either as a paper or an oral presentation.  Below is a brief list of topics that can be covered in a presentation.  Also attached is an article about writing about literature.

In order to acquaint the rest of your class with your selection, briefly discus the plot, the characters and the author’s methods of characterization, any conflicts that drive the plot and affect the characters, the setting and its significance, and significant themes.



I.       Plot  (divide the plot into major/specific events)
II.    Characters
A.     List Major Characters & Minor Characters
B.     Major Characters:
1.      Outward:  physical appearance, associations, occupation
2.      Inward:  intellect, attitudes, motivations
3.      Evaluation:  strengths, weaknesses, good/bad,
4.      Author’s characterization:  technique, believability
III. Conflict
A.     Between what characters
B.     Internal or external
C.     Setting-related (time/place)
IV.  Setting
A.     Time in history
B.     Time span
C.     Place
D.     Significance to the literature
V.     Theme 
A.     List and discuss any themes associated with these ideas
1.      Relating to the individual
2.      Relating to interpersonal relationships
3.      Regarding nature, society or God
4.      Regarding life and death
B.     Describe how the author weaves these themes into the literature
C.     What are the author’s primary assertions about these themes?
VI.  Conclusion
A.     Overall impression of this book – classic or forgettable
B.     Recommendations

British Literature Class Notes -- March 27

Greetings!

I didn't get an e-mail out last week, so I'll combine information from both weeks this week.

Last week we discussed the final exams for Great Expectations.  I had given them a list of questions and allowed them to choose 4 from the list to answer in an essay form.  I was delighted by their responses.  They wrote clearly, and many of the answers were fresh and insightful.  I learned a lot just reading their essays.  I gave a base grade for each question and added points for extra information that the students included.  I'm hoping that by studying one book carefully students will have the tools to be careful readers with other books.

Last week we also read through the packet of Victorian poetry.  We read aloud poetry by Gerard Manly Hopkins, Lewis Carroll, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Robert Browning.  We read the entire text of "The Lady of Shalott" by Tennyson.  We found that the poetry of this period is less nature-centric and has a more of a story-telling characteristic.  As a note of trivia, Agatha Christie has 2 books in which she refers to this poem:  A Mirror Cracked and Dead Man's Mirror

This week, we discussed the independent reading projects.  Each of the students has selected his/her book to read.  Between the 7 students, we have Jane Eyre, Emma, Macbeth, Sense and Sensibility, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Agnes Grey, and The Moonstone.  Each of these pieces of literature is considered a classic.

We discussed "how to read a book" and what I want from them as far as presentations about their reading.  They can give either an oral presentation or write a paper that they can share with the rest of the class.  I gave them some handouts that will be helpful.  If they give an oral presentation, they also need to have a written outline.

I've adjusted the syllabus because we took an extra week with Great Expectations and did the poetry before the independent reading.  Here's an outline for the final weeks of class:


Week 11 (4/10)
Independent Reading Presentations
Week 12 (4/17)
Independent Reading Presentations; Introduce Pygmalion
Week 13 (4/24)
Discuss Pygmalion
Week 14 (5/1)
Discuss Pygmalion
Week 15 (5/8)
Final Discussions & Review


We'll take 2 weeks for our presentations, but the students need to be ready on April 10.

Enjoy your Spring Break!
Mrs. Prichard

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Victorian Poets: Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)

“God’s Grandeur”

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;                    5
  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;             10
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.





“Pied Beauty”

GLORY be to God for dappled things—         
  For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; 
    For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;     
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;      
  Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;        5
    And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.           

All things counter, original, spare, strange;        
  Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)          
    With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;  
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:            10
                  Praise him.

Victorian Poet: Lewis Carroll (1832 - 1898 )

“Jabberwocky”

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Victorian Poet: Edward Lear (1812 – 1888)

“The Jumblies”

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,
  In a Sieve they went to sea:
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,
  In a Sieve they went to sea!
And when the Sieve turned round and round,
And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!'
They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big,
But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!
  In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'
      Far and few, far and few,
            Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
      Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
            And they went to sea in a Sieve.


II
They sailed away in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they sailed so fast,
  With only a beautiful pea-green veil
Tied with a riband by way of a sail,
  To a small tobacco-pipe mast;
And every one said, who saw them go,
'O won't they be soon upset, you know!
For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long,
And happen what may, it's extremely wrong
  In a Sieve to sail so fast!'
      Far and few, far and few,
            Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
      Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
            And they went to sea in a Sieve.




III
The water it soon came in, it did,
  The water it soon came in;
So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet
In a pinky paper all folded neat,
  And they fastened it down with a pin.
And they passed the night in a crockery-jar,
And each of them said, 'How wise we are!
Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long,
Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,
  While round in our Sieve we spin!'
      Far and few, far and few,
            Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
      Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
            And they went to sea in a Sieve.


IV
And all night long they sailed away;
  And when the sun went down,
They whistled and warbled a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,
  In the shade of the mountains brown.
'O Timballo! How happy we are,
When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar,
And all night long in the moonlight pale,
We sail away with a pea-green sail,
  In the shade of the mountains brown!'
      Far and few, far and few,
            Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
      Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
            And they went to sea in a Sieve.


V
They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,
  To a land all covered with trees,
And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart,
And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,
  And a hive of silvery Bees.
And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws,
And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,
And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,
  And no end of Stilton Cheese.
      Far and few, far and few,
            Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
      Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
            And they went to sea in a Sieve.


VI
And in twenty years they all came back,
  In twenty years or more,
And every one said, 'How tall they've grown!
For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,
  And the hills of the Chankly Bore!'
And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast;
And every one said, 'If we only live,
We too will go to sea in a Sieve,---
  To the hills of the Chankly Bore!'
      Far and few, far and few,
            Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
      Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
            And they went to sea in a Sieve.

Victorian Poet: Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)

“Song”
 
WHEN I am dead, my dearest,
  Sing no sad songs for me;      
Plant thou no roses at my head,
  Nor shady cypress tree:         
Be the green grass above me             5
  With showers and dewdrops wet;      
And if thou wilt, remember,      
  And if thou wilt, forget.          

I shall not see the shadows,      
  I shall not feel the rain;                    10
I shall not hear the nightingale   
  Sing on, as if in pain;  
And dreaming through the twilight         
  That doth not rise nor set,      
Haply I may remember,                    15
  And haply may forget.


“In an Artist’s Studio”

One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
A saint, an angel -- every canvas means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

Victorian Poet: Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882)

“Silent Noon”

YOUR hands lie open in the long, fresh grass,—          
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:           
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
’Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.   
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,                5
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge        
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge.       
’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.          
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly          
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky,—                 10
So this wing’d hour is dropped to us from above.         
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,          
This close-companioned inarticulate hour          
When twofold silence was the song of love.      





“Love-Sweetness”

SWEET dimness of her loosened hair’s downfall          
About thy face; her sweet hands round thy head           
In gracious fostering union garlanded;   
Her tremulous smiles; her glances’ sweet recall 
Of love; her murmuring sighs memorial;                           5
Her mouth’s culled sweetness by thy kisses shed          
On cheeks and neck and eyelids, and so led     
Back to her mouth, which answers there for all:—        
What sweeter than these things, except the thing           
In lacking which all these would lose their sweet:—                10
The confident heart’s still fervor: the swift beat  
And soft subsidence of the spirit’s wing,           
Then when it feels, in cloud-girt wayfaring,        
The breath of kindred plumes against its feet?

Victorian Poet: Matthew Arnold (1822–1888)

“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.              5
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!      
Only, from the long line of spray           
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch’d land,  
Listen! you hear the grating roar           
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,                 10
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               15
Heard it on the Ægæan, 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.            20

The Sea of Faith          
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore        
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl’d.          
But now I only hear     
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,          25
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              30
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          35
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,         
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Victorian Poet: Emily Bronte (1818–1848)

“No Coward Soul”

  NO coward soul is mine,       
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:        
  I see Heaven’s glories shine,  
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.     

  O God within my breast,                 5
Almighty, ever-present Deity!   
  Life—that in me has rest,       
As I—undying Life—have power in Thee!       

  Vain are the thousand creeds 
That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;                  10
  Worthless as wither’d weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,           

  To waken doubt in one          
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;           
  So surely anchor’d on         15
The steadfast rock of immortality.         

  With wide-embracing love     
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,         
  Pervades and broods above,  
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.                    20

  Though earth and man were gone,      
And suns and universes cease to be,     
  And Thou were left alone,      
Every existence would exist in Thee.     

  There is not room for Death,           25
Nor atom that his might could render void:        
  Thou—Thou art Being and Breath,     
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

Victorian Poet: Robert Browning (1812–1889)

“My Last Duchess”

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                  5
“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)          10
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         15
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             20
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 favor at her breast,                   25
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,                    30
Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked   
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            35
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             40
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,      
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without 
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;              45
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            50
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,              55
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!


-----------------------------------------------

“Rabbi Ben Ezra”

GROW old along with me!        
The best is yet to be,     
The last of life, for which the first was made:     
Our times are in his hand          
Who saith, “A whole I planned,          5
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”  

Not that, amassing flowers,       
Youth sighed, “Which rose make ours,   
Which lily leave and then as best recall?”           
Not that, admiring stars,         10
It yearned, “Nor Jove, nor Mars;           
Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends them all!” 

Not for such hopes and fears    
Annulling youth’s brief years,    
Do I remonstrate: folly wide the mark!            15
Rather I prize the doubt
Low kinds exist without,
Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark.  

Poor vaunt of life indeed,          
Were man but formed to feed            20
On joy, to solely seek and find a feast:   
Such feasting ended, then          
As sure an end to men; 
Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast?          

Rejoice we are allied             25
To that which doth provide        
And not partake, effect and not receive!
A spark disturbs our clod;         
Nearer we hold of God 
Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe.             30

Then, welcome each rebuff       
That turns earth’s smoothness rough,     
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!       
Be our joys three-parts pain!     
Strive, and hold cheap the strain;                    35
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!         

For thence,—a paradox
Which comforts while it mocks,—         
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: 
What I aspired to be,             40
And was not, comforts me:       
A brute I might have been, but would not sink i’ the scale.          

What is he but a brute   
Whose flesh has soul to suit,      
Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play?                    45
To man, propose this test—       
Thy body at its best,      
How far can that project thy soul on its lone way?          

Yet gifts should prove their use: 
I own the Past profuse           50
Of power each side, perfection every turn:         
Eyes, ears took in their dole,      
Brain treasured up the whole;    
Should not the heart beat once “How good to live and learn”?     

Not once beat “Praise be thine!          55
I see the whole design,  
I, who saw power, see now Love perfect too:    
Perfect I call Thy plan: 
Thanks that I was a man!         
Maker, remake, complete,—I trust what Thou shalt do!”         60

For pleasant is this flesh;           
Our soul, in its rose-mesh          
Pulled ever to the earth, still yearns for rest:       
Would we some prize might hold           
To match those manifold                    65
Possessions of the brute,—gain most, as we did best!     

Let us not always say,  
“Spite of this flesh to-day          
I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole!”      
As the bird wings and sings,               70
Let us cry, “All good things       
Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!”  

Therefore I summon age           
To grant youth’s heritage,         
Life’s struggle having so far reached its term:             75
Thence shall I pass, approved    
A man, for aye removed           
From the developed brute; a God though in the germ.      

And I shall thereupon    
Take rest, ere I be gone         80
Once more on my adventure brave and new:      
Fearless and unperplexed,         
When I wage battle next,          
What weapons to select, what armor to indue.    

Youth ended, I shall try          85
My gain or loss thereby;
Leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold:        
And I shall weigh the same,      
Give life its praise or blame:      
Young, all lay in dispute; I shall know, being old.          90

For note, when evening shuts,    
A certain moment cuts  
The deed off, calls the glory from the gray:        
A whisper from the west          
Shoots—“Add this to the rest,            95
Take it and try its worth: here dies another day.”

So, still within this life,   
Though lifted o’er its strife,       
Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last,       
“This rage was right i’ the main,         100
That acquiescence vain:
The Future I may face now I have proved the Past.”      

For more is not reserved           
To man, with soul just nerved    
To act to-morrow what he learns to-day:         105
Here, work enough to watch     
The Master work, and catch     
Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool’s true play.    

As it was better, youth  
Should strive, through acts uncouth,                110
Toward making, than repose on aught found made:         
So, better, age, exempt  
From strife, should know, than tempt      
Further. Thou waitedst age: wait death nor be afraid!     

Enough now, if the Right                    115
And Good and Infinite   
Be named here, as thou callest thy hand thine own,         
With knowledge absolute,          
Subject to no dispute     
From fools that crowded youth, nor let thee feel alone.             120

Be there, for once and all,         
Severed great minds from small,
Announced to each his station in the Past!         
Was I, the world arraigned,       
Were they, my soul disdained,            125
Right? Let age speak the truth and give us peace at last!

Now, who shall arbitrate?         
Ten men love what I hate,         
Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;           
Ten, who in ears and eyes                  130
Match me; we all surmise,        
They this thing, and I that: whom shall my soul believe?  

Not on the vulgar mass 
Called “work,” must sentence pass,       
Things done, that took the eye and had the price;         135
O’er which, from level stand,    
The low world laid its hand,       
Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice:       

But all, the world’s coarse thumb           
And finger failed to plumb,                 140
So passed in making up the main account;          
All instincts immature,   
All purposes unsure,     
That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man’s amount:      

Thoughts hardly to be packed             145
Into a narrow act,         
Fancies that broke through language and escaped;          
All I could never be,     
All, men ignored in me, 
This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.                  150

Ay, note that Potter’s wheel,     
That metaphor! and feel
Why time spins fast, why passive lies our clay,—           
Thou, to whom fools propound,  
When the wine makes its round,         155
“Since life fleets, all is change; the Past gone, seize to-day!”       

Fool! All that is, at all,   
Lasts ever, past recall;  
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure:  
What entered into thee,          160
That was, is, and shall be:          
Time’s wheel runs back or stops: Potter and clay endure.           

He fixed thee ’mid this dance    
Of plastic circumstance,
This Present, thou, forsooth, would fain arrest:             165
Machinery just meant   
To give thy soul its bent,
Try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently impressed.        

What though the earlier grooves,           
Which ran the laughing loves              170
Around thy base, no longer pause and press?     
What though, about thy rim,       
Skull-things in order grim           
Grow out, in graver mood, obey the sterner stress?         

Look not thou down but up!                175
To uses of a cup,          
The festal board, lamp’s flash and trumpet’s peal,           
The new wine’s foaming flow,  
The master’s lips aglow!           
Thou, heaven’s consummate cup, what needst thou with earth’s wheel?           180

But I need, now as then,           
Thee, God, who mouldest men;  
And since, not even while the whirl was worst,   
Did I—to the wheel of life        
With shapes and colors rife,               185
Bound dizzily—mistake my end, to slake Thy thirst:        

So, take and use Thy work:       
Amend what flaws may lurk,     
What strain o’ the stuff, what warpings past the aim!      
My times be in Thy hand!                  190
Perfect the cup as planned!       
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!