How to read poetry.

These days, poetry is thought to be ridiculously highbrow - if you're not a genius, it's not for you. Maybe this has something to do with our shortened attention spans, courtesy of - you guessed it - the internet. 

But actually, poetry is supposed to appeal to our emotions, and not usually our intellect. In other words, if you have emotions (as I am going to assume you all do) - poetry is probably something you can handle! 

A lot of people don't see what there is to love about poetry. Frankly, that could be because you're reading it wrong. And when it comes to poetry, "wrong" equals "silently." Poetry is meant to be read out loud. That way, you can capture the effectiveness of the language in the poem. You don't have to declaim it. You can just whisper. :)

You probably also have to read a poem more than once to understand it. Don't think that, just because it's gibberish the first time, you'll never get it.

I'm not going to say that everyone should love poetry, because some people are simply never going to like it - and that is perfectly fine! However, too many people write it off as a "smart person thing" before they even give it a try.

So, here's your chance. This is a lovely, and quite famous, poem of John Keats' called "Ode to a Nightingale." Many thanks to my friend Sarah for bringing it to my attention. I'm not going to post the whole thing - it's pretty long, with eight stanzas. Here is the seventh.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Books to make you cry.

Some people think it's wimpy to cry over a book, but I'm one of the people who really enjoys it upon occasion. Here are three books that I'm willing to admit have made me cry.

Didn't we all read Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe in high school? But let's face it, a lot of us were too busy (or careless) to take the time to comprehend this difficult but beautiful book. Uncle Tom's Cabin is, beyond the obstacles of length and dialect, a touchingly heroic story of the tireless endurance of a slave in America. The tragic but inspirational ending proves that the lowest of society can emerge as the highest of humanity. This story is all the more moving when you realize that it is based on real events.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, a story set in the French Revolution, is not a read-in-one-sitting type of book, I'll admit. In fact, it took all my fortitude to wade through hundreds of pages to the last few chapters. But in those final chapters lies one of the most inspiringly poignant plot developments that I have ever had the privilege of reading. It made me cry buckets, but the ending of this book isn't actually a heartbreaker. It's almost peaceful, and my main feeling upon finishing this book was utter amazement and admiration for the beauty of that last scene.

Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes is, unlike my other two suggestions, fun to read from the very beginning. It's the story of a teenage boy at the dawn of the American Revolution, and his search for the right side in which to place his allegiance. The book is very well written, pretty easy to read, and quite enjoyable, but the ending is quite the tearjerker. Again, the historical basis of this book makes the ending all the more touching.

Heaven is ... what?

Be honest. Do you know for sure what will happen to you after you die? C.S. Lewis might change your ideas in his celestially themed book, The Great Divorce.

The Great Divorce is about a man, presumably Lewis himself, who finds himself at an unfamiliar bus stop, waiting for a bus to who-knows-where. The bus comes and takes him to a strange, beautiful, alien land, in which last is first and men are but ghosts. The man encounters many wise spirits in this land, who bit by bit help him to understand the nature of the place he has come to.

Though The Great Divorce is a book about heaven, Lewis never claimed that his book depicted heaven as it really is. Rather, The Great Divorce is an attempt to imagine the unimaginable, to prepare for the unexpected, and to compile the small amount of information that we have about heaven into a mere suggestion of what it might be like.

The Great Divorce simultaneously convicts and reassures its Christian readers, and will probably present them with new ideas about eternity. For those who are reading it from the viewpoint of another religion, the book may leave you with questions, and will certainly provide food for thought. Though The Great Divorce is by now an old classic, its ideas are ever fresh and surprising.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

Impossible. It's a word that we are all taught to reject. We've all heard the saying "'Impossible' is just an excuse," or something to that effect.

It doesn't always feel that way, does it?

John Milton was a writer who loved to write, and felt that it was his calling. In 1655, his deteriorating eyesight had rendered him functionally blind. Did this mean the end of Milton's writing career?

No. Milton continued to write by dictating his work to assistants, and went on to write his most famous works in this way. But in the beginning, he wasn't at all sure that it was possible for a blind man to be a writer. It was after he overcame this doubt that he wrote the poem "On His Blindness." It's about his struggle with feeling worthless, and the reassurance that God gave him - the assurance that, as long as you are seeking Him, your life cannot be worthless.

When I consider how my life is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my maker and present

My true account, lest He returning chide.

"Doth God exact* day-labour, light denied?"  *exact = require

I fondly* ask, but Patience, to prevent         *fondly = foolishly

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need

Man's work, or his own gifts. Who best

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best.

His state is kingly, thousands at his bidding speed

And post o'er land and ocean without rest -

They also serve who only stand and wait."

Photo by Blythe Whitney: The Bees Knees

An overlooked classic.

Everyone has read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (or at least everyone should!) It has a special place in my heart, and I am proud to call it one of my very favorite books. However, the one and only downside to this book is that its prominence in the world of books overshadows its wonderful sequel, Through the Looking-Glass.

Through the Looking-Glass is every bit as good as its predecessor, and I may possibly enjoy it even more. The book is basically the story of Alice's adventures in the backwards world of her own looking-glass. The world is a giant game of chess, in which Alice is a pawn. She attempts, in the midst of her various fantastical adventures, to advance up the "chessboard" in order to become a queen.

It is in this book that we meet Tweedledee and Tweedledum, that we encounter the bed of talking flowers, and that we hear the tale of the Walrus and the Carpenter. Everyone knows these scenes, but their origin is too often overlooked.

With fresh, exciting creativity, a plentiful supply of Lewis' delightfully nonsensical poetry, and wonderfully detailed, quirky illustrations by John Tenniel, Through the Looking-Glass is not a book to be missed.

Illustration by John Tenniel

Back to childhood.

Guess who my new favorite poet is?

I found an old book of his poems in the attic. It belonged to my dad in the sixties.

No, it's not John Milton or Gerard Manley Hopkins. They're wonderful, but I'm dipping into simpler literary fare these days. I've become a big fan of A. A. Milne, creator of Winnie the Pooh.

Now, before you blow him off as a mere kids' poet, let me explain why he is so delightful to me.

A. A. Milne writes in a somewhat twee British style, but if you ponder a bit on any one of his poems, you'll inevitably discover a deeper layer of emotion or meaning. In some of his poems, he captures the feeling of a small child in a world run by adults. In others, he portrays the ready imagination of most little kids. In the poem "The Wrong House," he probes the melancholy feeling of an uncared-for home. In "Spring Morning," he takes you back to the way you felt when you had no responsibilities.

And sometimes, he even gets a bit philosophical. Remember this poem?

Halfway Down

Halfway down the stairs

Is a stair

Where I sit.

There isn't any

Other stair

Quite like

It.

I'm not at the bottom,

I'm not at the top;

So this is the stair

Where

I always

Stop.

Halfway up the stairs

Isn't up,

And isn't down.

It isn't in the nursery,

It isn't in the town.

And all sorts of funny thoughts

Run round my head:

"It isn't really

Anywhere!

It's somewhere else

Instead!"

A. A. Milne, The World of Christopher Robin

(c) 1958, by E. P. Dutton &Co., Inc.

Illustration by E. H. Shepard

"I want to wash my face, my hands, my hair with snow ..."

So. You know that major mid-Atlantic snowstorm that's happening this weekend?

I'm right in the middle of it! :)

We've got about one foot to eighteen inches, and it's still snowing aplenty.

Last night I took a good long walk in the falling snow with a friend. And today I have another friend coming over to take pictures in the snow (she's a budding photographer. But from the looks of it, we may have to postpone our photoshoot until it stops snowing!)

And hopefully, we can go sledding at my grandparents' house. They've got a terrific hill.

I'm too excited to concentrate on this blog post. :) Plus, I have to go shovel the driveway. Please everybody, take advantage of your various snow-related cancellations to go outside for a bit!

More than meets the eye.

I used to think poetry had to be ornate and wordy, and for this reason, I was not particularly impressed with the poetry of Emily Dickinson. It doesn't take much talent to write down a few simple lines with obvious rhymes, right? 

Now that I am older and very slightly wiser, I see the genius behind Emily Dickinson's work. Her ability to pack a bushel of expression into an ounce of poetry is an almost singular talent. Emily Dickinson is the poet that can make a mere four lines arrest your thoughts for an entire afternoon. Her poems mainly deal with love, death, nature, and eternity.

Here is a sample of her poetry:

I never saw a moor

I never saw the sea

Yet I know how the heather looks

And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God

Nor visited in heaven

Yet certain am I of the spot 

As if the chart were given.

Photo courtesy of www.PDPhoto.org