Kestrel suggested poetry, which I could probably do all month, though I'll try not to. I know it's not everyone's thing. This is the first one I memorised, partly because I thought it was funny, but mostly because Harry said it was too long and I'd never be able to remember it. I was eight, I think.
New words I learned from it: bower, discreet, mandates, divine.
Other things I've done primarily because Harry said I couldn't, or wouldn't dare: jumped in Lake Windermere with all my clothes on, stole a teacher's hairpiece, spent the night in a supposedly haunted house... On the whole, this one probably turned out the best. Or at least got me in the least trouble.
The Bearer of Evil Tidings
Robert Frost
The bearer of evil tidings,
When he was halfway there,
Remembered that evil tidings
Were a dangerous thing to bear.
So when he came to the parting
Where one road led to the throne
And one went off to the mountains
And into the wild unkown,
He took the one to the mountains.
He ran through the Vale of Cashmere,
He ran through the rhododendrons
Till he came to land of Pamir.
And there in a precipice valley
A girl of his age he met
Took him home to her bower,
Or he might be running yet.
She taught him her tribe's religion:
How ages and ages since
A princess en route to China
To marry a Persian prince
Had been found with child; and her army
Had come to a troubled halt.
And though a god was the father
And nobody else at fault,
It had seemed discreet to remain there
And neither go on nor back.
So they stayed and declared a village
There in the land of the Yak.
And the child that came of the princess
Established a royal line,
And his mandates were given heed to
Because he was born divine.
And that was why there were people
On one Himalayan shelf;
And the bearer of evil tidings
Decided to stay there himself.
At least he had this in common
With the race he chose to adopt:
They had both of them had their reasons
For stopping where they had stopped.
As for the evil tidings,
Belshazzar's overthrow,
Why hurry to tell Belshazzar
What soon enough he would know?
32 comments:
That was a long one for an 8 year old. Well done you.
I think the only poem I ever memorized was a Robert Frost as well. Mending Wall. It's still one of my favorites but I don't think I could do the whole thing without looking anymore.
Long, but simple. And it's easier when they rhyme.
I barely remember that one, though I think I liked it. I'll have to look it up.
It's nice. You should think about if there's anything you'd like someone to read at the ceremony.
And you're welcome to make our vows rhyme ;)
That is a pretty impressive poem to memorize at such a young age but there is nothing like a sibling dare to get things done ;-)
Personally I really like poetry so as many days of it as you fancy will be lovely :-)
Haha! Well done for learning all that just to get back at your sister :P
I have to admit, I have done the exact same thing, except it was Roald Dahl's revolting rhymes and Dr Seuss' Oh the Places You'll Go. The reciting annoyed them no end :)
L - Ha. I don't make them up, I just remember them! I'll see if I can think of something appropriate though. Most of what I'm remembering right now are the opposite of appropriate.
Anonybob - yeah, older siblings... sometimes a blessing, often just there to get you in trouble. ;)
anon - I'm with you there. Annoying her with it was the best part!
Wow, that is a lot for 8! I think the first poem I memorized on purpose was The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes, when I was...oh, 11 or so:
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
I think I loved it so much because it told a "romantic" story. Now that I'm older I'm totally horrified by it, honestly!
And I just had a thought - perhaps you guys would like some Pablo Neruda in your ceremony:
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I never heard that one before. It's beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you for that, I'm glad my suggestion was well received.
I consider the poetry of Robert Frost to be a national treasure, but I'd not experienced that one. It's wonderful. Memorized it at eight? Crimeny. I think when I was eight I was memorizing poems like
"My beard grows to my toes
I never wears no clothes
I wraps my hair
Around my bare
And down the road I goes"
(that's Shel Silverstein, whose work was quite an influence on my younger self)
That's lively, Maz.
Danger - inappropriate is the first step, I'm sure. I keep thinking of vaguely smutty rhymes.
Lovely, I meant.
Share as much poetry as you like, John--I've loved poetry since a friend of my mother gave us a book of poems when I was very young indeed, but I rarely take the time to sit down and read any.
I think the longest poem I knew by heart at age 8 was Eletelephony--which is to say, not very long at all. :)
I'm glad you like it. I've become addicted to Neruda lately; I'd never heard of him until a few months ago. He's from Peru, so all of these are translations, but anyone who can write this in any language:
Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.
has my heart forever.
I've rarely memorised poetry; I'm impressed by everyone who does. I think I learnt Jabberwocky when I was younger, but I learnt all the word to Bohemian rhapsody when I was about ten or eleven, does that count?
One of my favourite poems is Philip Larkin's This Be the Verse (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178055 - linking because of the language :-p). Although I have a soft spot for a couple of Shakespeare's sonnets too - 116 and 130 I think sum up what being in love is all about for me.
Nameless - ha. I quite like that one too!
L - I keep thinking of vaguely smutty rhymes.
Such as?
I refuse to say in public.
Nameless - This be the verse is one of the few poems I know!
The others are Ozymandius and Sea Fever. Or is it Seafever...
I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and the sky
I seem to have left my towel behind
And I need it so I can get dry.
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song
And my sister waving--
off in the distance--my warm, dry towel
while I stand here shaking.
You're both trampling all over my childhood...
Fortunately I don't recall vowing not to trample all over your childhood... I do like the poem though.
I'll add it.
Actually, calling it 'my childhood' rather exagerates the importance of a poem I perhaps read a handful of times...
I like the poetry idea a lot, Doc. (Good one, Kestrel!)
Hey DW. Hope you're doing okay?
Doing fine, thanks Lestrade.
DW - so far it's led me to realise that all the love-related poetry I know is ironic, sarcastic, cynical, or all three... I still find it pretty amusing though.
Maz, I love Pablo Neruda and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, such beautiful writers. Actually I sent that poem to my partner last night, the salt-rose or topaz one, how oddly fitting!
Well then, maybe you should write some of your own, Doc?
I love you as a court loves a tennis ball,
With service, and with power, 'mid the rise and a fall.
And if I should ever leave thy strong arms
A bedazzled jacket shall prevent me from harms.
Or something.
Ha, extremely romantic; I like it!
Hey! I normally don't post even thought I've read this for ages (how can shyness translate to the internet? It can, though). But I love poetry to death, so I had to post something.
I'm impressed by your memorization too, John. I am sure I was in the Shel Silverstein camp. And Lestrade, it doesn't get much better than Ozymandias. This is the first poem I memorized in its entirety that wasn't by Mr. Siverstein (It's rather short):
To Lucasta, On Going To The War
Tell me no sweet
I am unkind
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly
True a new mistress now I chase
The first foe of the field
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you to shall adore
I could not love thee, dear, so much
Loved I not honor more.
I was likely in middle school, so I was a bit old for something this short. But I liked it, so it was what I chose. Also...this is a rather long post, so I think I shall clear off for now.
My favorite "love" poets are John Dunne and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. In particular, "How do I love Thee?" (XLIII, Sonnets from the Portuguese) is my favorite, thought perhaps a touch morbid for a wedding.
As for memorizing poetry...do couplet poems in another language count? I had to do recital competitions in language school as a child. There was only so many repetitions of LiBai before our judges went a little crazy...
*squees and twirls around* Oh, so so very happy and excited for all of you!
~A from NW
(and I'm glad that all our U.S. East Coast friends are checking in safe and mostly dry.)
I mostly mismemorized poetry when I was eight, I think. But the wrong versions have stuck. Largely Stevenson.
Of speckled eggs the birdies sing
And nests up in the trees.
The sailors sing of ropes and things
and ships on stormy seas.
The children sing in far Japan,
the children sing in Spain.
The organ and the organ man,
are singing in the rain.
and
O Western wind when wilt thou blow
that thw small rains down may rain.
Christ that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again.
(It was short, and so was I. And I loved the idea of "small rains".)
rsf (Who still doesn't have internet at home. Yay for libraries!)
Post a Comment