Title: Thoughts before departure
Author: Saorla
Spoilers: Nope, unless you haven't seen On the Beech yet
Disclaimer: I own nothing do not sue, I have nothing of value.
When we were reading the following poem in class today, my English teacher asked us if we were an artist, how would we depict this poem, and the only thing that came to mind was Mark before he died. And I know at first glance it may not seem like an accurate comparison, but if you read the poem a couple of times and really think about it, its really on target.
"When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be" John Keats
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain; When I behold, upon the night's starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the fairy power
Of unreflecting love-then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
Author: Saorla
Spoilers: Nope, unless you haven't seen On the Beech yet
Disclaimer: I own nothing do not sue, I have nothing of value.
When we were reading the following poem in class today, my English teacher asked us if we were an artist, how would we depict this poem, and the only thing that came to mind was Mark before he died. And I know at first glance it may not seem like an accurate comparison, but if you read the poem a couple of times and really think about it, its really on target.
"When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be" John Keats
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain; When I behold, upon the night's starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the fairy power
Of unreflecting love-then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
