#sonnet xxxiii

[aboutbirds]

XXXIII

Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear The name I used to run at, when a child, From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled, To glance up in some face that proved me dear With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled Into the music of Heaven's undefiled, Call me no longer. Silence on the bier, While I call God — call God! — so let thy mouth Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south, And catch the early love up in the late. Yes, call me by that name, — and I, in truth, With the same heart, will answer and not wait.

XXXIV

With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee As those, when thou shalt call me by my name — Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same, Perplexed and ruffled by life's strategy? When called before, I told how hastily I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game, To run and answer with the smile that came At play last moment, and went on with me Through my obedience. When I answer now, I drop a grave thought, break from solitude; Yet still my heart goes to thee — ponder how — Not as to a single good, but all my good! Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow That no child's foot could run fast as this blood.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Sonnets from the Portuguese

[words-and-coffee]

Naked summer has arrived with feet of honeysuckle.

Pablo Neruda, 100 love sonnets: XXXIII

[cacchieressa]

Sonnet XXXIII by Pablo Neruda

Love, we're going home now, where the vines clamber over the trellis: even before you, the summer will arrive, on its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.

Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world: Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey—: Ceylon, green dove—: and the Yang-Tse with its old old patience, dividing the day from the night.

And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea like two blind birds to their wall, to their nest in a distant spring:

because love cannot always fly without resting, our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea: our kisses head back home where they belong.

[graywyvern]

( via / "one path through the 80s, watercolor" via nightcafe )

"Self-checkout is more similar to AI art than people would like to admit."

'When Gregory writes, the catastrophe has occurred, the Empire has fallen, its organization has collapsed, the culture of antiquity has been destroyed. But the tension is over. And it is more freely and directly, no longer haunted by insoluble tasks, no longer burdened by unrealizable pretensions, that Gregory's soul faces living reality, ready to apprehend it as such and to work in it practically.' --Erich Auerbach, Mimesis (1946; tr W F Trask)

Vaguely castle-like pattern.

"XXXIII.

Of meadows drowsy with Trinacrian bees, Of shapes that moved a rising mist among-- Persephone between the Cypress trees-- Of lengthier shades along the woodland flung, Of calm upon the hardly whispering seas, Of cloud that to the distant island clung-- He made of emerald evening and of these A holier song than ever yet was sung.

But silence and the single-thoughted night, Hearing such music took him for their own To that long land, where, men forgotten quite Harpless he errs by Lethe stream alone. He never more will know that wind-flower's white-- He never more shall hear uneasy autumn moan."

--Hilaire Belloc, Sonnets & Verse (1944)

Robot reads The King in Yellow.

"Sometimes did it retire, tormentedly quitting its twist of flesh in fresh torments of peace..."

--Kendrick Smithyman

The gnosticarchiborescentathedral reigns supreme above all; a mind-bending architectural feat that survived long beyond the atomization of the sub-lands..

[dingyuxi]

— edna st. vincent millay; sonnet xxxiii “i shall go back again”

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

For “Shakespeare Day” (23 April), 2022: Five Sonnets that deserve more recognition than they get

One: Sonnet XXXIII: Full many a glorious morning have I seen.  A lot of people have invested in the idea that Shakespeare wrote Hamlet as a tribute to his son Hamnet (who died suddenly when still a young boy), based on little more than the similarity of the two names. And I disagree. However, I think those people will find the father’s grief they’re looking for in this poem.

Two: Sonnet LX: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore. This one concludes on the same idea that “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” does. But it takes a different route to get there, and the imagery and pacing is just delicious.

Three: Sonnet LXVI: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.  As that opening line warns, this poem is full of suicidality. But its final line gives us the best reason to keep on living, one day after another: Staying with the people we love makes it all worth it.

Four: Sonnet CVIII: What's in the brain that ink may character. In case you’re looking for actual, textual, evidence that Shakespeare was a bisexual disaster, here ya go. You’re Welcome. Also gotta love the wordplay in that opening line.

Five: Sonnet CXV: Those lines that I before have writ do lie. These sonnets are almost all written as if they’re spoken / written to someone. But, imnsho, this feels the most conversational. And it’s just really sweet.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Jupiter Inlet :: Dan Gladwin

* * * *

Sonnet XXXIII

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all triumphant splendor on my brow; But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.

[Shakespeare]

[megairea]

The love that stood a moment in your eyes, The words that lay a moment on your tongue, Are one with all that in a moment dies,

Edna St. Vincent Millay, from Sonnet XXXIII (“I shall go back again”); Fatal Interview: Sonnets, 1931

[even-love-unreturned]

Meanings behind Chain of Iron chapter titles (part II, Ch16-29)

16. Dark Breaks to Dawn

Likely from another Dante Gabriel Rossetti poem, “Found”, a companion to his painting of the same name. It was published in 1881 in his volume Ballads and Sonnets.

“There is a budding morrow in midnight:”— So sang our Keats, our English nightingale. And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale In London's smokeless resurrection-light, Dark breaks to dawn. But o'er the deadly blight Of Love deflowered and sorrow of none avail, Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail, Can day from darkness ever again take flight?

17. Prophet of Evil

In “The Raven”, Edgar Allen Poe calls the raven a “Prophet” and a “thing of evil”.

In the Iliad, Cachas the seer/prophet is called a “Prophet/seer of evil”:

To Calchas first of all he spoke, and his look threatened evil: “Prophet of evil, never yet have you spoken to me a pleasant thing; ever is evil dear to your heart to prophesy, but a word of good you have never yet spoken, nor brought to pass. […]”

I don’t think either of these two are the reference used here though.

18. Goblin Market

This title is clearly from the poem “Goblin Market” written by Christina Rossetti in 1859, a tale of two sisters tempted by magical and dangerous fruit sold by goblins. According to some analyses, the poem might read as an allegory of addiction and recovery. (This poem has also been quoted in chapter 6 of CA)

19. Thine Own Palace

From one of John Donne’s verse letters to Sir Henry Wotton beginning “Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls”:

“Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell; Inn anywhere; continuance maketh hell. And seeing the snail which everywhere doth roam, Carrying his own house still, still is at home, Follow (for he is easy paced) this snail, Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.”

20. Equal Temper

From the poem “Ulysses” written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in 1833.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

21. Hell’s Own Track

From another Christina Rossetti poem, “Amor Mundi”, published in 1865.

“Turn again, O my sweetest,—turn again, false and fleetest:  This beaten way thou beatest I fear is hell’s own track.” “Nay, too steep for hill-mounting; nay, too late for cost-counting:  This downhill path is easy, but there’s no turning back.”

22. Heart of Iron

Perhaps from “The Belfry of Bruges” (1866) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

At my feet the city slumbered.  From its chimneys, here and there, Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like, into air.

Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour, But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.

23. Silken Thread

Possibly from the poem attributed under its first line “O Lady, leave thy silken thread” by Thomas Hood.

O lady, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: There's living roses on the bush, And blossoms on the tree; Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet.

24. He Shall Rise

This is either a biblical passage, or from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “The Kraken”, first published in 1830.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

25. Archangel Ruined

Finally we have Cassie’s obligatory Paradise Lost reference in every book!

[…] He, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent,⁠ Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured. […]

- Paradise Lost, Book I (1674), John Milton

26. Older Than Gods

The only thing I can find for the exact phrase “older than gods” is something from the play The Birds by Aristophanes, performed 414 BCE, in which characters argue that if birds are older than earth and therefore “older than gods”, then the birds are the heirs of the world, for the oldest always inherits. Somehow I don’t. Think that’s the reference used here ajskfkd.

Then, there’s a line that goes “older than all ye gods” in Algernon Charles Swinburne’s poem, “Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation in Rome of the Christian Faith)”:

Will ye bridle the deep sea with reins, will ye chasten the high sea with rods?/Will ye take her to chain her with chains, who is older than all ye Gods?

27. Wake With Wings

From another poem relating to Prosepine (which is one of the Latin names for Persephone) “The Garden of Proserpine” (1866) by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

Though one were strong as seven, He too with death shall dwell, Nor wake with wings in heaven, Nor weep for pains in hell; Though one were fair as roses, His beauty clouds and closes; And well though love reposes, In the end it is not well.

28. No Wise Man

Possibly from the famous quote, written by Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) in essay: “No wise man ever wished to be younger.” But I doubt it, considering all the other references are of poems and verse.

29. A Broken Mirror

Possibly from poem XXXIII in the long narrative poem “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” by Lord Byron, published between 1812-1818. The wikipedia description has it as: “it describes the travels and reflections of a world-weary young man, who is disillusioned with a life of pleasure and revelry and looks for distraction in foreign lands.”

Even as a broken mirror, which the glass In every fragment multiplies; and makes A thousand images of one that was, The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; And thus the heart will do which not forsakes, Living in shatter'd guise, and still, and cold, And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold.

Part 1 (chapters 1-15) here.

[lizardgoats]

Desolate dreams pursue me out of sleep; Weeping I wake; waking, I weep, I weep.

Sonnet XXXIII in Fatal Interview, by Edna St. Vincent Millay

[revolutionoftenderness]

Full many a glorious morning have I seen

Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,

Kissing with golden face the meadows green,

Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;

Anon permit the basest clouds to ride

With ugly rack on his celestial face,

And from the forlorn world his visage hide,

Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:

Even so my sun one early morn did shine

With all triumphant splendor on my brow;

But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;

The region cloud hath mask’d him from me now.

Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;

Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s sun staineth.

~ William Shakespeare, sonnet xxxiii

[Maxfield Parrish "Morning" aka "Spring" or “Spring Morning” or “Easter” - 1922]

#maxfieldparrish #shakespeare #poetry #dawn #love #sun #easter

[obliobla]

Sonnet XXXIII

Love, we’re going home now where the vine climbs up the lattice: before you arrived the naked summer came to your room on honeysuckle feet.

Our wandering kisses travel the world: Armenia, viscous drop of unearthed honey, Ceylon, green dove, and the Yangtze separating with ancient patience the days from the nights.

And now, beloved, by the crackling sea, we return like two blind birds to the wall, to the nest of distant spring,

because love can’t fly without stopping: to the wall or the sea stones go our lives, to our place those kisses returned.

-Pablo Neruda-

[words-and-coffee]

And now, beloved, through the crackling sea we return like blind birds

Pablo Neruda, 100 love sonnets: XXXIII

[abzilp]

Not only the title, but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of the poem were suggested by Miss Jessie L. Weston’s book on the Grail legend: From Ritual to Romance (Macmillan). Indeed, so deeply am I indebted, Miss Weston’s book will elucidate the difficulties of the poem much better than my notes can do; and I recommend it (apart from the great interest of the book itself) to any who think such elucidation of the poem worth the trouble. To another work of anthropology I am indebted in general, one which has influenced our generation profoundly; I mean The Golden Bough; I have used especially the two volumes Adonis, Attis, Osiris. Anyone who is acquainted with these works will immediately recognise in the poem certain references to vegetation ceremonies.

I. The Burial of the Dead

    Line 20. Cf. Ezekiel II, i.     23. Cf. Ecclesiastes XII, v.     31. V. Tristan und Isolde, I, verses 5-8.     42. Id, III, verse 24.     46. I am not familiar with the exact constitution of the Tarot pack of cards, from which I have obviously departed to suit my own convenience. The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose in two ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God of Frazer, and because I associate him with the hooded figure in the passage of the disciples to Emmaus in Part V. The Phoenician Sailor and the Merchant appear later; also the “crowds of people," and Death by Water is executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself     60. Cf. Baudelaire:          “Fourmillante cité, cité pleine de rêves,          “Où le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant.”     63. Cf. Inferno III, 55-57:                                             “si Iunga tratta          di gente, ch’io non avrei mai creduto               che morte tanta n’avesse disfatta.”     64, Cf. Inferno IV, 25-27:          “Quivi, secondo che per ascoltare,          “non avea pianto, ma’ che di sospiri,          “che l’aura eterna facevan tremare.”     68, A phenomenon which I have often noticed.     74, Cf. the Dirge in Webster’s White Devil.     76. V. Baudelaire, Preface to Fleurs du Mal.

II. A Game of Chess

    77. Cf. Antony and Cleopatra, II, ii, I. 190.     92. Laquearia. V. Aeneid, I, 726:          dependent Iychni laquearibus aureis incensi, et noctem flammis funalia vincunt.     98. Sylvan scene, V. Milton, Paradise Lost, IV, 140.     99. V. Ovid, Metamorphoses, VI, Philomela.     100. Cf. Part III, I. 204.     115. Cf. Part III, I. 195.     118. Cf. Webster: “Is the wind in that door still?”     126. Cf. Part I, I. 37,48.     138. Cf. the game of chess in Middleton’s Women beware Women.

III. The Fire Sermon

    176. V. Spencer, Prothalamion.     192. Cf. The Tempest, I, ii,     196. Cf. Marvell, To His Coy Mistress.     197. Cf. Day, Parliament of Bees:          “When of the sudden, listening, you shall hear,          “A noise of horns and hunting, which shall bring          “Actaeon to Diana in the spring,          “Where all shall see her naked skin . . . "     199. I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines are taken: it was reported to me from Sydney, Australia.     202. V. Verlaine, Parsifal.     210. The currants were quoted at a price “carriage and insurance free to London”; and the Bill of Lading etc. were to be handed to the buyer upon payment of the sight draft.     218. Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a “character," is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias, What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem. The whole passage from Ovid is of great anthropological interest:          '. . . Cum Iunone iocos et maior vestra profecto est          Quam, quae contingit maribus,' dixisse, ‘voluptas.'          Illa negat; placuit quae sit sententia docti          Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat utraque nota,          Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva          Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu          Deque viro factus, mirabile, femina septem          Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus eosdem          Vidit et ‘est yestrae si tanta potentia plagae:          Dixit ‘ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet,          Nunc quoque vos feriam!' percussis anguibus isdem          Forma prior rediit genetivaque venit imago.          Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa          Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto          Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique          Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte,          At pater omnipotens (neque enim Iicetinrita cuiquam          Facta dei fecisse deo) pro Iumine adempto          Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.     221. This may not appear as exact as Sappho’s lines, but I had In mind the “longshore” or “dory” fisherman, who returns at nightfall.     253. V. Goldsmith, the song in The Vicar of Wakefield.     257. V. The Tempest, as above.     264. The interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest among Wren’s interiors. See The Proposed Demolition of Nineteen City Churches: (P. S. King & Son, Ltd.).     266. The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here. From line 292 to 306 inclusive they speak in tum. V. Götterdämmerung, III, i: the Rhine-daughters.     279. V. Froude, Elizabeth, Vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra to Philip of Spain: “In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the games on the river. (The queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself on the poop, when they began to talk nonsense, and went so far that Lord Robert at last said, as I was on the spot there was no reason why they should not be married if the queen pleased.”     293. Cf. Purgatorio, V, 133:          “Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia;          “Siena mi fe’, disfecemi Maremma.”     307. V. St. Augustine’s Confessions: “to Carthage then I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears.”     308. The complete text of the Buddha’s Fire Sermon (which corresponds in importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken, will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren’s Buddhism in Translation (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one of the great pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.     309. From St. Augustine’s Confessions again. The collocation of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.

V. What the Thunder Said

    In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus, the approach to the Chapel Perilous (see Miss Weston’s book) and the present decay of eastern Europe.     357. This is Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii, the hermit-thrush which I have heard in Quebec County. Chapman says (Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America) “it is most at home in secluded woodland and thickety retreats. . . . Its notes are not remarkable for variety or volume, but in purity and sweetness of tone and exquisite modulation they are unequalled.” Its “water-dripping song” is justly celebrated.     360. The following lines were stimulated by the account of one of the Antarctic expeditions (I forget which, but I think one of Shackleton’s): it was related that the party of explorers, at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion that there was one more member than could actually be counted.     367-77, Cf. Hermann Hesse, Blick ins Chaos: “Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest der halbe Osten Europas auf dem Wege zum Chaos, fährt betrunken im heiligem Wahnam Abgrund entlang und singt dazu, singt betrunken und hymnisch wie Dmitri Karamasoff sang. Ueber diese Lieder lacht der Burger beleidigt, der Heilige und Seher hört sie mit Tränen.”     402. “Datta, dayadhvam, damyata” (Give, sympathise, control). The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found in the Brihadaranyaka – Upanishad, 5, 1. A translation is found in Deussen’s Sechzig Upanishads des Veda, p, 489.     408. Cf. Webster, The White Devil, V, vi:                                                            ". . . they’ll remarry          Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider          Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs.”     412. Cf. Inferno, XXXIII, 46:          “ed io sentii chiavar l’uscio di sotto          all’orribile torre.”      Also F. H. Bradley, Appearance and Reality, p. 346. “My external sensations are no less private to myself than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experiences falls within my alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it. . . . In for each is peculiar and private to that soul.”     425. V. Weston: From Ritual to Romance; chapter on the Fisher King.     428. V. Purgatorio, XXXVI, 148.          "‘Ara vos prec per aquella valor          ‘que vos guida al som de l’escalina,          ‘sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'          Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina.”     429. V. Pervigilium Veneris. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.     430. V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet El Desdichado.     432. V. Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy.     434. Shantih. Repeated as here, a formal ending to an Upanishad. “The Peace which passeth understanding” is a feeble translation of the content of this word.

[penelopebarber]

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack, he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth. Shakespeare Sonnet XXXIII (at Willow Farm, Berry)

[whosaidxyz]

A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet Xxxiii , A poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt. For more audio poems, check out our site at http://AudioPoems.org