He writes his own epithet in the second stanza where death is portrayed as coming home as if to rest from the rigours of life. Though he came from a family of engineers and it was expected he would follow suit, Robert wrote stories even as a child; no one was really surprised when, three years into his engineering studies at the University of Edinburgh, he abandoned them to study writing. Stevenson's thought of a happy homecoming in death is given an ironic turn. I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,Or all the riches that the East doth hold. Thy love is such I can no way reply;The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
He is not struggling against death, but instead is ready for it. It deepens like a coastal shelf. This be the verse you 'grave for me: Here he lies where he long'd to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. I am a thousand winds that blow. This poem is simple magic, made more perfectly human by all the little imperfections. In 1946, Larkin discovered the poetry of Thomas Hardy and became a great admirer of his poetry, learning from Hardy how to make the commonplace and often dreary details of his life the basis for extremely tough, unsparing, and memorable poems.
Stevenson shows he is ready for the end and asks simply for a grave in nature, under the starry sky. Man hands on misery to man. I think, no matter where you be,You'll hold me in your memoryAnd keep my image, there without me,By telling later loves about me. Many mourners are left to navigate the ordeal alone, having never discussed their loved ones' wishes. Under the wide and starry sky Dig the grave and let me lie. If ever man were loved by wife, than thee;If ever wife was happy in a man,Compare with me, ye women, if you can. As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity — remember me.
Kind Regards Jim Clark All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2011 This Be The Verse. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This biblical allusion injects a homiletic quality into the unabashedly profane poem and hints at a certain awareness on Larkin's part that, of all his poems, this one will be the poem his readers will remember. This be the verse you grave for me: Here lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea And the hunter home from the hill. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
In the second stanza, he writes his own epithet and gives his views on life. It is brief and memorable enough that many who read it are then able to recite it from memory, and do so to others, who also remember it and recite it again with minor variations. This article needs additional citations for. Impacted by grief, those who have had these conversations may still feel under-prepared when the time comes. What is the difference between these creatures And men in the world as far as their ends in deaths? I've been to four of my Mothers weddings, beat up, abused, left in a dumpster. Likewise many land and sea creatures' fortunes End very early before they realize themselves! Post New Comment: KevinArnold: Such brevity and subtle craft. I climbed the path, hewn out of the undergrowth by the local tribal chiefs for their beloved Tusitala.
This be the verse you grave for me: Here lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea And the hunter home from the hill. And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar. Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, your memories of the times we loved,the times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed. This be the verse you 'grave for me: Here he lies where he long'd to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill. His two metaphors for what the grave represents show us that he feels that death will be a final soothing rest.
It is carved on his gravestone at Vailima in Samoa. Yeats's Lake Isle of Innisfree and said he expected to hear it recited in his honour by a thousand Girl Guides before he died. To those of you who have read a lot of , or have attended several funerals, many of the readings on this list will be familiar to you. He was born on the windswept prairie in Saskatchewan, as far away from the sea as you can be in any direction, but he loved being outdoors in the wind under the stars, so it seems perfect to us. Presumably the idea is that Larkin would like his poem to be on his gravestone. Joe To paraphrase a drinking toast. Post New Comment: Richard Greene: Thanks for posting this, Jayne.
We had been traveling for days. My mailbox is protected by iHateSpam, the 1-rated spam buster. Too those who love us we are remembered. So Eden sank to grief,So dawn goes down to day. Yet Larkin the poet could not shy away from examining and analysing the role that our parents play in shaping our own attitudes, behaviour, and prejudices.
Get out as early as you can, And don't have any kids yourself. O, if I say you look upon this verse, When I perhaps compounded am with clay,Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,But let your love even with my life decay,Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone. Interesting post on a favorite poem. Although Stevenson was an atheist, he offers this poem as his thoughts and ideas about death. Stevenson's thought of a happy homecoming in death is given an ironic turn.
They may not mean to, but they do. Does the apple fall far from the tree? How did a writer as good as Larkin fuck up his forms of to be? The material on this site may not be copied, reproduced, downloaded, distributed, transmitted, stored, altered, adapted, or otherwise used in any way without the express written permission of the owner. But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats. I am the diamond glints on snow. We also have a crazy amount of alliteration going on. The line, 'under the wide and starry sky, dig the grave and let me lie', struck a cord with me. I had the verse only in Russian, so I tried to translate it back to English myself.