I was talking with someone about poetry today, so I thought I would share my favorite poem with you all. It is "The World is Too Much With Us" by William Wordsworth.
One of my absolute favorite poems is this one from Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: XXVI.
I lived with visions for my company Instead of men and women, years ago, And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know A sweeter music than they played to me. But soon their trailing purple was not free Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow, And I myself grew faint and blind below Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come---to be, Belovèd, what they seemed. Their shining fronts, Their songs, their splendours (better, yet the same, As river-water hallowed into fonts), Met in thee, and from out thee overcame My soul with satisfaction of all wants: Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
Russell, of course, introduced me to the shimmering beauty of The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock. It's longer so I won't post more than a link (http://www.bartleby.com/198/1.html), but go read it, along with the translation of the Italian from the beginning (http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=419292). It is the most beautiful, aching poem I know
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XXVI.
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweeter music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come---to be,
Belovèd, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendours (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
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