I have a great fondness for sunflowers. I've started my own garden where I have grown four sunflowers all from seed. They are not so tall, and I have much to learn before they can reach their full potential. Seeing how much I adore sunflowers I simply had to read the poem I stumbled upon by William Blake called Ah! Sunflowers (I wasn't allowed an exclamation point in the title. Pout.).
The poem is only eight lines long--not much for a sunflower's grandness. However, the span that is in the poem makes up for the stubbiness of the poem itself. This small poem is about the life span of a sunflower. Or rather, it seems to be about the end of its life.
I think that this poem must have been written after Blake saw a sunflower in late September when sunflowers are waning and they do seem "weary of time". And then it says that sunflowers are wishing for youth and innocence as they lean towards an unseen entity. At the end of their life, similar to humans, they harken back to "the good old days" of "youth" and "pale virgin(s)".
Favorite line: "Ah! sunflower.../Seeking after that sweet golden clime"
Showing posts with label William Blake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Blake. Show all posts
Monday, October 5, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
A Poison Tree (William Blake)
Yeah, yeah, this poem, too, rhymes. Okay, so maybe I don't dislike rhyme. Or I do, rather, when it is poorly done, which so easily happens. William Blake is a talented guy. He write in rhyme. AABB. He writes pretty even lines too. Neat-o.
And not only that, he writes a poem that seems to summarize human relations. You can be angry with a friend, but it doesn't matter. You're friends. You talk it out. You're angry with your enemy, and because they are your enemy you keep hold of your anger until it grows into hatred and at that point you're both destroyed.
In the poem, all it says is that the friend is "outstretched", but N also has destroyed himself. He has spent all his hours growing this poison tree, and at the end all he has done is lay low the enemy and that brings a smile to his face since he is "glad", but what is next step, I wonder. He has spent days and nights, days and nights perfecting this poison tree. And to what purpose? But, that I suppose, is the point. There is no purpose.
And not only that, he writes a poem that seems to summarize human relations. You can be angry with a friend, but it doesn't matter. You're friends. You talk it out. You're angry with your enemy, and because they are your enemy you keep hold of your anger until it grows into hatred and at that point you're both destroyed.
In the poem, all it says is that the friend is "outstretched", but N also has destroyed himself. He has spent all his hours growing this poison tree, and at the end all he has done is lay low the enemy and that brings a smile to his face since he is "glad", but what is next step, I wonder. He has spent days and nights, days and nights perfecting this poison tree. And to what purpose? But, that I suppose, is the point. There is no purpose.
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