Mr. Micawber, may I ?

Question

Some lines of poetry gets stuck in my mind that I can't forget them. Other times I memorize the poem due to my continuous loud reading, this happens when I like the poem very much. My question, if you don't mind, is that whether or not it's good to memorize some lines or even a whole poem. Thank you so much in advance..

Mister Micawber · Accepted Answer

Oh my! Yes indeed-- memorize as much as you can! It will enrich your soul and make you the life of the party.

To him who in the love of Nature holds
communion with her visible forms,
she speaks a various language.
For his gayer hours she has a voice of gladness,
and a smile and eloquence of beauty,
and she glides into his darker musings
with a mild and healing sympathy
that steals away their sharpness
ere he is aware.

This has been in my mind for 40 years, and is still as lovely as it ever was. I wish I could remember more, and I wish I could remember more accurately, but every little bit helps.

Stannum · Answer

'Thanatopsis'

To him who in the love of Nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks

A various language; for his gayer hours

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile

And eloquence of beauty, and she glides

Into his darker musings, with a mild

And healing sympathy, that steals away

Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight

Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;--

Go forth, under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around--

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--

Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee

The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,

Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up

Thine individual being, shalt thou go

To mix for ever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish

Couch more magnificient. Thou shalt lie down

With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings,

The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,

All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills

Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,--the vales

Stretching in pensive quietness between;

The venerable woods--rivers that move

In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadow green; and, poured round all,

Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,

Are shining on the sad abodes of death,

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread

The globe are but a handful to the tribes

That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings

Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods

Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,

Save his own dashings--yet the dead are there:

And millions in those solitudes, since first

The flight of years began, have laid them down

In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.

So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw

In silence from the living, and no friend

Take note of thy departure? All that breathe

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh

When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care

Plod on, and each one as before will chase

His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave

Their mirth and their employments, and shall come

And make their bed with thee. As the long train

Of ages glide away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes

In the full strength of years, matron and maid,

The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--

Shall one by one be gathered to thy side

By those, who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, and when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan, which moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like a quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

-- William Cullen Bryant

Stannum · Answer

g'day mister micawber

of all the poems in the world you have made a most germaine choice to give reason beyond the ability of prose to convey your point

i doffs me topper to you

robert

The Sweet Desert · Answer

Thanks for you both, Mr.Micawber and Robert.

Stannum · Answer

g'day sweet desert

you are totally welcome and i gained knowledge of another wonderful piece of art that i did not know existed

robert

if you are still looking then you have the silver lining

MrPedantic · Answer

The Sweet DesertSome lines of poetry gets stuck in my mind that I can't forget them. Other times I memorize the poem due to my continuous loud reading, this happens when I like the poem very much. My question, if you don't mind, is that whether or not it's good to memorize some lines or even a whole poem. Thank you so much in advance..

If you record yourself reciting the poems you like, you can listen to them on a Walkman when travelling on trains, walking, etc. This is a quick way to learn poems by heart.

The only disadvantage is that the sound of one's own voice is an extremely effective soporific. So don't play back the tape while driving.

MrP

Stannum · Answer

g'day

MrP

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Very helpful X OK A bit prescriptivistic Unintelligible
Thank you.

robert

The Sweet Desert · Answer

Mr. Pedantic, your suggestion is just great , thank you so much.

Robert, pray tell me about the new art type you found,, I didn't get you..

Stannum · Answer

g'day mr pedantic

i found a new piece of art in the wonderful poem recalled by mr micawber

robert

laziness breeds invention

Mr. Micawber, may I ?

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