Times Learnings

'NEUTRAL TONES' POEM BY THOMAS HARDY 'Neutral Tones' Poem We stood by a pond that winter day, And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, And a few leaves lay on the starving sod; -They had fallen from an ash, and were gray. Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove Over tedious riddles of years ago; And some words played between us to and fro On which lost the more by our love The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing Alive enough to have strength to die; And a grin of bitterness swept thereby Like an ominous bird a-wing... Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me Your face, and the God-curst sun, and a tree, And a pond edged wth grayish leaves. Analysis of "Neutral Tones" by Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy's "Neutral Tones," written in 1867, is a deeply evocative poem that explores the disillusionment and emotional aftermath of a failed relationship. Below, I’ll analyze the poem’s key elements—struc...

" THE SUNNE RISING" POEM BY JOHN DONNE Busie old foole, unruly Sunne, Why dost thou thus, Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run? Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices, Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride, Call countrey ants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme, Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time. Thy beames, so reverend, and strong Why shouldst thou thinke? I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke, But that I would not lose her sight so long: If her eyes have not blinded thine, Looke, and tomorrow late, tell mee, Whether both the 'India's of spice and Myne Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee. Aske for those Kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay. She's all States, and all Princes, I, Nothing else is. Princes doe but play us; compar'd to this, All honor...

'SRING AND FALL' : TO A YOUNG CHILD - GERALD MANLEY HOPKINS 'Spring and Fall'  to a young child Margaret, are you grieving  Over Goldengrove unleaving?  Leaves, like the things of man, you  With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older  It will come to such sights colder  By and by, nor spare a sigh  Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know why  Now no matter, child, the name:  Sorrow's springs are the same.  Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed:  It is the blight man was born for,  It is Margaret you mourn for. Glossary Title. Fall autumn as used in the American language. Line 8. wanwood  colourless forest Line 8. leafmeal   scattered with, littered with leaves a word coined on the lines of piecemeal Line 13. ghost   spirit (as in 'Holy Ghost') Line 14. blight  cursed end; decay Explanatory Notes . Lines 1-9. The ...

 ' THE OLD PLAYHOUSE' POEM BY KAMALA DAS ' The Old Playhouse' Poem You planned to tame a swallow, to hold her In the long summer of your love so that she would forget Not the raw seasons alone, and the homes left behind, but Also her nature, the urge to fly, and the endless Pathways of the sky. It was not to gather knowledge Of yet another man that I came to you but to learn What I was, and by learning, to learn to grow, but every  Lesson you gave was about yourself. You were pleased With my body's response, its weather, its usual shallow  Convulsions. You dribbled spittle into my mouth, you poured  Yourself into every nook and cranny, you embalmed  My poor lust with your bitter-sweet juices. You called me wife,  I was taught to break saccharine into your tea and To offer at the right moment the vitamins. Cowering  Beneath your monstrous ego I ate the magic loaf and  Became a dwarf. I lost my will and reason, to all your  Questions I mumbled ...

" BREAK BREAK BREAK" POEM BY ALFRED LORD TENNYSON " Break, Break, Break" Poem Break, break, break On thy cold grey stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.) O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. Glossary Line 1. break fall to pieces Line 2. bay part of a sea or lake within a wide curve of the shore Line 10. haven refuge; sea-port Line 11. vanish'd hand of his friend Arthur Hallam Line 14. crags rocks Explanatory Notes 1. Tennyson is at his lyrical best in this short poem. It is an example of how content and form become one in a good poem. It also sho...

Men Call You Fayre Poem By Edmund Spenser Men Call You Fayre ( Sonnet 79 ) Men call you fayre, and you doe credit it, For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see: But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit, And vertuous mind, is much more praysd of me. For all the rest, how ever fayre it be, Shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew: But onely that is permanent and free From frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew. That is true beautie: that doth argue you To be divine and borne of heavenly seed: Deriv'd from that fayre Spirit, from whom al true And perfect beauty did at first proceed. He onely fayre, and what he fayre hath made, All other fayre lyke flowres untymely fade. Glossary Line 1. fayre fair, beautiful Line 3. trew true, real, essential Line 3. wit wisdom Line 4. praysd praised Line 6. hew hue, colour, complexion Line 8. ensew ensue, happen afterwards; result Line 11. deriv'd derived, born of Line 11. that fayre spirit God, the Holy Spirit, divine beauty Line ...

POOR SOUL,.... (SONNET NO. 146) POEM BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND EXPLANATION ' Poor Soul,..... (Sonnet No. 146)' Poem Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, [Foiled by] these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more. So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then. Glossary Line 1. sinful earth sinful body; flesh because the body is made of earth-dust. Line 2. (Foiled by) challenged by, opposed by Line 2. array (v) to embellish, to adorn both 'deck out' and 'afflict' Line 3. pine grieve Lin...

GOODBYE PARTY FOR MISS PUSHPA T.S POEM | NISSIM EZEKIEL Welcome to my new post, in this post we shall read about ' Nissim Ezekiel' an Indian poet and his famous poem ' Goodbye Party for Miss Pushpa T.S'  ' Goodbye Party for Miss Pushpa T.S' Poem Friends, our dear sister is departing for foreign  in two three days,  and we are meeting today  to wish her bon voyage. You are all knowing friends,  What sweetness is in Miss Pushpa.  I don't mean only external sweetness  but internal sweetness.  Miss Pushpa is smiling and smiling  even for no reason  but simply because she is feeling. Miss Pushpa is coming  From very high family.  Her father was renowned advocate  In Bulsar or Surat  I am not remembering now which place. Surat? Ah, yes,  once only I stayed in Surat  with family members  of my uncle's very old friend --- his wife was cooking nicely.......  that was long time ago. Coming back to Miss Pushp...

" A LETTER" AND "CONCORD HYMN" POEMS BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON " A Letter" Poem Dear brother, would you know the life,  Please God, that I would lead?  On the first wheels that quit this weary town  Over yon western bridges I would ride  And with a cheerful benison forsake  Each street and spire and roof incontinent.  Then would I seek where God might guide my steps, Deep in a woodland tract, a sunny farm,  Amid the mountain counties, Hant, Franklin, Berks,  Where down the rock ravine a river roars,  Even from a brook, and where old woods  Not tamed and cleared cumber the ground  With their centennial wrecks.  Find me a slope where I can feel the sun  And mark the rising of the early stars.  There will I bring my books, — my household gods,  The reliquaries of my dead saint, and dwell  In the sweet odor of her memory.  Then in the uncouth solitude unlock  My stock of art, plant dials in the grass,...

 " FUTILITY" POEM EXPLANATION - WILFRED OWEN In this article we shall read about 'Wilfred Owen' and his poem Futility things about " Futility " poem by Wilfred Owen. " Futility" Poem Move him into the sun- Gently its touch awoke him once,  At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France,  Until this morning and this snow.  If anything might rouse him now  The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds,-  Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.  Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,  Full-nerved-still warm-too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams  toil To break earth's sleep at all? Glossary Title. Futility   uselessness Line 2. gently   softly Line 2. its   the sun's Line 9. clays   earthdust from which man is made. Line 9. cold star the earth that was initially cold and uninhabitable made warm later by the sun. Line 11. s...

IN A STATION OF THE METRO - POEM EXPLANATION - EZRA POUND ' In a Station of the Metro' Poem The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. Glossary 1. metro    an underground railway system in a city 2 apparition            a sudden or dramatic appearance especially of a ghost or phantom. Explanatory Notes 1. Pound saw a number of faces when he got off the train at the station. The experience he underwent is expressed through the use of a metaphor. He felt that the faces appeared like petals that stick to a wet, black bough. The reader is expected to see the blackness of the bough against whose background the colourful petals stand contrasted here the colourful faces of people against the dark background of the station. The few petals that stick to the bough remind us of the shower of petals that fall with rain or a gust of wind. Only a few petals managed to stick to the bough. In a large crowd of people at the railway s...

POEMS COLLECTION WRITTEN BY 'SAROJINI NAIDU' ' A Love Song From The North' Poem Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha, Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha, Dreams of delight that are gone, When swift to my side came the feet of my lover With stars of the dusk and the dawn? I see the soft wings of the clouds on the river, And jewelled with raindrops the mango-leaves quiver, And tender boughs flower on the plain..... But what is their beauty to me, papeeha, Beauty of blossom and shower, papeeha, That brings not my lover again? Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha, Wouldst thou revive in my heart, papeeha Grief for the joy that is gone? I hear the bright peacock in glimmering woodlands Cry to its mate in the dawn; I hear the black koel's slow, tremulous wooing, And sweet in the gardens the calling and cooing Of passionate bulbul and dove.... But what is their music to me, papeeha Songs of their laughter and love, papeeha, To me, forsaken of love? ' A Rajput Lov...

'DREAMS' POEM BY EDGAR ALLAN POE Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!  My spirit not awak'ning till the beam  Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.  Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,  'T were better than the cold reality  Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,  And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,  A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.  But should it be — that dream eternally  Continuing — as dreams have been to me  In my young boyhood — should it thus be giv'n,  'T were folly still to hope for higher Heav'n.  For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright  I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light  And loveliness, — have left my very heart  In climes of mine imagining, apart  From mine own home, with beings that have been  Of mine own thought — what more could I have seen? 'T was once — and only once — and the wild hour  From my remembrance shall not...

SWAN AND SHADOW | POEM EXPLANATION | JOHN HOLLANDER ' Swan and Shadow' Poem Explanation                      Dusk             Above the       water hang the                         loud                         flies                        Here                       O so                   gray                   then                   What                       A pale signal will appear                When    ...

READ POEMS OF EDWARD TAYLOR 'MEDITATION III AND IV' | 'THE PREFACE' |'HUSWIFERY' Meditation III (Canticles 1:3: Thy Good Ointment)  How Sweet a Lord is mine? If any should Guarded, Engarden'd, nay, Imbosomd bee In reechs of Odours, Gales of Spices, Folds Of Aromaticks, Oh! how Sweet was hee? He would be Sweet, and yet his sweetest Wave Compar'de to thee my Lord, no Sweet would have. A Box of Ointments, broke; Sweetness most sweet A surge of Spices: Odours Common Wealth, A Pillar of Perfume: a Steaming Reech Of Aromatick Clouds: All Saving Health Sweetness itselfe thou art: And I presume In Calling of thee Sweet, who art Perfume. But Woe is mee! who have so quick a Sent To Catch perfumes pufft out from Pincks, and Roses And other Muscadalls, as they get Vent, Out of their Mothers Wombs to bob our noses. And yet thy sweet perfume doth seldom latch My Lord, within my Mammulary Catch. Am I denos'de? or doth the Worlds ill Sents Engarison my nosthrills na...

' THE PROLOGUE' AND 'BEFORE THE BIRTH OF ONE OF HER CHILDREN' POEMS BY ANNE BRADSTREET The Prologue I To sing of Wars, of Captaines, and of Kings,  Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun,  For my mean Pen, are too superiour things,  And how they all, or each, their dates have run:  Let Poets, and Historians set these forth,  My obscure Verse, shal not so dim their worth.  II   But when my wondring eyes, and envious heart,  Great Bartas sugar'd lines doe but read o're;  Foole, / doe grudge, the Muses did not part  'Twixt him and me, that over-fluent store;  A Bartas can, doe what a Bartas wil,  But simple I, according to my skill.  Ill   From School-boyes tongue, no Rhethorick we expect,  Nor yet a sweet Confort, from broken strings,  Nor perfect beauty, where's a maine defect,  My foolish, broken, blemish'd Muse so sings;  And this to mend, alas, no Art is able,  'Cause Nature made it so irre...