Why fades a dream? An iridescent ray Flecked in between the tryst Of night and day. Why fades a dream? -- Of consciousness the shade Wrought out by lack of light and made Upon life's stream. Why fades a dream? That thought may thrive, So fades the fleshless dream; Lest men should learn to trust The things that seem. So fades a dream, That living thought may grow And like a waxing star-beam glow Upon life's stream -- So fades a dream.
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, "Is it good, friend?" "It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;
"But I like it "Because it is bitter, "And because it is my heart."
Villain shows his indiscretion, Villain's partner makes confession. Juvenile, with golden tresses, Finds her pa and dons long dresses. Scapegrace comes home money-laden, Hero comforts tearful maiden, Soubrette marries loyal chappie, Villain skips, and all are happy.
I am no priest of crooks nor creeds, For human wants and human needs Are more to me than prophets' deeds; And human tears and human cares Affect me more than human prayers.
Go, cease your wail, lugubrious saint! You fret high Heaven with your plaint. Is this the "Christian's joy" you paint? Is this the Christian's boasted bliss? Avails your faith no more than this?
Take up your arms, come out with me, Let Heav'n alone; humanity Needs more and Heaven less from thee. With pity for mankind look 'round; Help them to rise -- and Heaven is found.
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
Amazon.in Page
Release Date: March 12, 2024
This book presents sixteen of Frost’s poems, each with a commentary on the poem, how events in Frost’s life influenced said poem, and assorted background details. It includes the “greatest hits” (e.g. “Mending Wall,” “The Road Not Taken,” “Fire and Ice,” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,”) a few of Frost’s more obscure works, and a number that are in-between in status.
I found the commentaries to be interesting and readable, which is important as Frost’s poems are now in the public domain, and so the value of this volume hinges on Parini’s work. Parini includes some stories that offer insight into Frost’s mindset, as with the story of the lady who approached him after a reading to ask the meaning of “Fire and Ice.” Reading Frost isn’t like reading, say, Allen Ginsberg, the latter being one who put it all out there – unabashedly, Frost’s poetry is more guarded and deals more in nuanced metaphor. This makes a volume like this useful if it can offer any insight into the poet’s mindset, which I think Parini does.
I considered reading this book to be an opportunity to learn more about the poems and poet, and – therefore – did not heavily weight the stated theme of presenting poems that should be rote memorized. I mention this because I suspect Parini had other criteria in mind as well. While the book does include poems that are easily memorized (e.g. “Fire and Ice” and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”) as well as poems that have messages worth learning by heart (e.g. “Mending Wall” and “The Road Not Taken,”) it also includes poems that aren’t so memorable because they are long, not especially lyrical, or not particularly filled with stand-out ideas or vivid imagery (e.g. “Directive,” “The Wood Pile,” and “Birches.”) This also begs the question, why one wouldn’t include a poem like “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” which is short, lyrical, and has an easily grasped message (i.e. easily memorized.)
As for ancillary matter, there is an appendix that offers tips for memorizing poems as well as a short “recommended reading” bibliography.
That said, I enjoyed reading this book; I got a lot out of Parini’s commentary, and I would recommend the book for poetry readers.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -- Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Lenore -- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -- Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -- This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" -- here I opened wide the door; -- Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before: But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" -- Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again a tapping, somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -- Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore; -- 'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he: not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore -- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning -- little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered -- not a feather then he fluttered -- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before -- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -- Till the dirges of this Hope the melancholy burden bore Of 'Never -- nevermore."
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee Respite -- respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! -- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -- On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore -- Is there -- is there balm in Gilead? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us -- by that God we both adore -- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting -- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted -- nevermore!
Robert Frost: Sixteen Poems to Learn by Heart by Robert Frost
Tiger Riding for Beginners 