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Ode , On Intimations Of Immortality Analysis



Author: Poetry of William Wordsworth Type: Poetry Views: 6541



I

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

II

The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

III

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!

IV

Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the Children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a Tree, of many, one,
A single Field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

V

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

VI

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

VII

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little Actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

VIII

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

IX

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest--
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

X

Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

XI

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

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||| Analysis | Critique | Overview Below |||




.: :.

I m really ashamed by those who have posted such bullshit messages against poetry. If you people have heart and feeling then read carefully the seven stanza Behold the child. a six year darling. dont you feel tears in your eyes if you are human?

| Posted on 2014-10-27 | by a guest


.: :.

Ode On Intimations of Immortality talks about the connection between human life and nature. According to Wordsworth\'s point of view human beings are always emotionally alive so that the moment we had passed in childhood that will never come back, the brightness of rose, rainbow, moon everything will be remained beautiful and joyful but following our time by time, a child become man and reach in manhood with his mature and adult memories as well as complex and practical realization. His perception will be changed...Therefore, with this feelings he become closer to death and happily wants to return to those time again....

| Posted on 2012-02-03 | by a guest


.: :.

Ode On Intimations of Immortality talks about the connection between human life and nature. According to Wordsworth\'s point of view human beings are always emotionally alive so that the moment we had passed in childhood that will never come back, the brightness of rose, rainbow, moon everything will be remained beautiful and joyful but following our time by time, a child become man and reach in manhood with his mature and adult memories as well as complex and practical realization. His perception will be changed...Therefore, with this feelings he become closer to death and happily wants to return to those time again....

| Posted on 2012-02-03 | by a guest


.: :.

,

| Posted on 2011-12-10 | by a guest


.: :.

it is truly a magical and moving poem..one jut needs a sound, philosophical and a romantic mind to understand it truly..:)

| Posted on 2011-05-12 | by a guest


.: :.

In diametric opposition to Eliot's "Whispers of Immortality" - same concept, different means of expression. Eliot focuses more on the physicality of death whilst Wordsworth goes for a more naturalistic and romantic view.

| Posted on 2009-12-11 | by a guest


.: :.

This poem ok is liek wicked ite. yo nows like tat i luv litwiture cuz it is like amazjn . now srsly i thnk tht wordworrrrth has som liek alot of well gud concepts k. u got sumin to say take it up with customer support. kep it weal amongst the hood i cum fwom brooklyn k i is leik well genio kk. keep it tigt ite bless your muthas

| Posted on 2009-11-11 | by a guest


.: :.

David, you should of never wrote that about me. Nothing you said was the truth. Nothing!

| Posted on 2009-10-20 | by a guest


.: :.

Please read... this is for my Love whose time is short.
To the sad youthful mind that hath no comprehension of life other than what is blatantly put forth in front of your eyes with clearly defined context, boundaries and parameters... LIFE IS NOT SIMPLE, NOR EASY TO UNDERSTAND... rejoice in its complexity and the revelation of life's meaning along the journey that is before you.
Life is not provided to us in a neatly wrapped box with instruction. It rides an ever changing wind that seems to provide warmth on some days, yet a biting cold on others that cuts to the core of your being; raising question of your very existence and meaning.
I am on the threshold of losing my love to a brain tumor... she is yet still a mere child of 25 with a precious, beautiful daughter of 5. Most of us have a lifetime to live through the various stages William Wordsmith describes in this deeply insight poem... but Elizabeth's timeline is but a cruel fraction of what it should be... My tears flow freely when I think of life cut short and the brevity of her time with us.
(Stanza X)
"...
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
..."
There seems to be such sadness and finality in Death, but there is still yet a journey for those left behind. And, it is comforting to know that at some point... through this suffering... I will find strength in what remains behind.
It is my prayer that Elizabeth's life be extended and time progresses... ever so slowing... so that we can enjoy the love and embrace of each remaining moment as it gracefully moves forward... But it is my fear that time will fly swiftly; as a bird of prey snatching its defenseless quarry. Oh how I despise Death's appetite.
But my prayer continues...
Death hath no victory, Death hath no sting... Lord help me not grieve for untimely loss, but rather find joy in memories of life; that through my tears you will have sympathy on those left behind and restore the splendour in the grass and glory in the flowers of our hearts, minds and soul... so that we cry no more for love lost, but rejoice in love found... however short and fleeting it may have been.
I love you Peep
Dave
So young minds note this is the power of Williams Wordsmiths writing. Search its meaning for the stage of life you find yourself in and develop your own clarity, context, boundaries and parameters of this complex thing we call Life.

| Posted on 2009-10-20 | by a guest


.: :.

Please read... this is for my Love whose time is short.
To the sad youthful mind that hath no comprehension of life other than what is blatantly put forth in front of your eyes with clearly defined context, boundaries and parameters... LIFE IS NOT SIMPLE, NOR EASY TO UNDERSTAND... rejoice in its complexity and the revelation of life's meaning along the journey that is before you.
Life is not provided to us in a neatly wrapped box with instruction. It rides an ever changing wind that seems to provide warmth on some days, yet a biting cold on others that cuts to the core of your being; raising question of your very existence and meaning.
I am on the threshold of losing my love to a brain tumor... she is yet still a mere child of 25 with a precious, beautiful daughter of 5. Most of us have a lifetime to live through the various stages William Wordsmith describes in this deeply insight poem... but Elizabeth's timeline is but a cruel fraction of what it should be... My tears flow freely when I think of life cut short and the brevity of her time with us.
(Stanza X)
"...
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
..."
There seems to be such sadness and finality in Death, but there is still yet a journey for those left behind. And, it is comforting to know that at some point... through this suffering... I will find strength in what remains behind.
It is my prayer that Elizabeth's life be extended and time progresses... ever so slowing... so that we can enjoy the love and embrace of each remaining moment as it gracefully moves forward... But it is my fear that time will fly swiftly; as a bird of prey snatching its defenseless quarry. Oh how I despise Death's appetite.
But my prayer continues...
Death hath no victory, Death hath no sting... Lord help me not grieve for untimely loss, but rather find joy in memories of life; that through my tears you will have sympathy on those left behind and restore the splendour in the grass and glory in the flowers of our hearts, minds and soul... so that we cry no more for love lost, but rejoice in love found... however short and fleeting it may have been.
I love you Peep
Dave
So young minds note this is the power of Williams Wordsmiths writing. Search its meaning for the stage of life you find yourself in and develop your own clarity, context, boundaries and parameters of this complex thing we call Life.

| Posted on 2009-10-20 | by a guest


.: :.

i just dont understand why just because it was written over 300 years ago that it is a masterpiece, when people all over the country are writing wonderful peotry but its "a load of bull" because its 2009 and our generation is tainted. ITS NOT THAT GOOD!!!

| Posted on 2009-09-16 | by a guest


.: :.

I studied this poem in 1966 for "A" Level English Literature. I must say I enjoyed it then and the "Child is Father of the Man" bithas stuck in y head ever since. However, it is only now, aged 61, when the urge to read it again grabbed me one Sunday afternoon, that I feel I have really understood it. I do not generally read poetry but I feel that I shoul dread more now. I also think that poetry is one of the most difficult literary mediums and I am not at all surprised that young people struggle with it, like I did. Maybe it is just another example of the wisdom of Oscar Wilde when he said words to the effect that it is a shame that youth is wasted on the young!!!!

| Posted on 2009-08-30 | by a guest


.: :.

Dewaine Brown--May 15, 2009
Poets and prophets have a common thread. They have mined, farmed and harvested writings in Holy Writ.
A deeper meaning comes to mind as I see Wordsworth's analysis of life as being a spirit child of God. Holy writ states we are the children of God, and one prophet also stated "Certain of your own poets have stated we are the children of God."
Holy writ also tells of the creation of the earth, and the vital elements in nature, plants and animals, having their owen spiritual creation before earth. The elements of nature were created for the joy of God's children. Us.
Nature works harmoniously for the joy of us, God's greatest creation. His children.
I enjoy writings of poets and prophets. Prophets and seers give us truth, and poets describe truths in prose and poetry.
Holy writ states, "There is no remembrance of things before."
Wordsworth states, "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. The soul that rises with us, our life's star, hath had elswhere its setting, and cometh from afar. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness do we come from God who is our home."
Then it speaks of the closing darkness that comes.
Grace Barker Wilson another poet less known, States something to this effect. "At birth a baby has memory of heaven. But gradually forgets it as its new assingment to manage this new toy, its mortal body. Learning to manage its tongue, focus eyes, squiglly arms and legs and gradually learns to crawl, walk and talk. But not in total forgetfulness, as we subconsiously remember our former time with our father in heaven. God.
I see a deeper understanding in Wordsworth throughthis poem.

| Posted on 2009-05-15 | by a guest


.: :.

To the school comment
It is you, dear reader why intelligence now fails, and philosphy is in its last days. I admit, I am not much for poetry, however I will not blatently insult what I know is art. Simply put, you are an idiot and you serve as an example of the hell society has become.

| Posted on 2009-04-14 | by a guest


.: :.

To the school comment
It is you, dear reader why intelligence now fails, and philosphy is in its last days. I admit, I am not much for poetry, however I will not blatently insult what I know is art. Simply put, you are an idiot and you serve as an example of the hell society has become.

| Posted on 2009-04-14 | by a guest


.: :.

So is this poem similiar to stepping westward and we are seven in any way?

| Posted on 2009-04-05 | by a guest


.: :.

could we please learn how to spell and use english properly? wow.

| Posted on 2008-10-22 | by a guest


.: :.

Dear friends,
If you are a teenager, perhaps you will only understand this poem as you grow old, but surely some of you have already felt the "effects of the prison-house" which close on the growing boy. We are born within us with memories of heaven, which we carry with us into are childhood. Everything in life is new, wonderous, beautiful, amazing. As we grow through the stages of life mentioned in our poem, we geing to lose or "forget" out primal (first) bliss and happiness in nature, and all the wonderful things in life. But when we are older, we will have sudden memories as an adult, of what it was like to feel as a child. These happy "intimation" or memories sustain as, as we feel death approaching. We gain strength from what remains behind. Thus, we can approach death we joy, knowing that we will hopefully come back to the beginning of the life cycle again.
IF you are young and reading this, treasure each and every day and moment of your life.That is why this poem has to teach you.

| Posted on 2008-08-07 | by a guest


.: :.

This Ode is about loss and grief, which finally leads to acceptance, and gain. Willian Wordsworth uses sensual imagery of the purity and harmony of Nature and Childhood to express his personal beliefs about human nature.

| Posted on 2008-03-02 | by a guest


.: Ugh. :.

Poems like these are the reason why students suddenly come to school with a gun and shoot people. I would too if I were less sane.

1. They're extremely lengthy.
2. The English used is too complicated. Sure some of you may understand, but I'm sorry if we don't speak like this from day to day. They're expecting us to understand this crap, although they know we don't speak a lick like this.

Well, I salute you if you like this type of writing, but I just cannot come to understand it. Sure, the explanations sound nice but, it's sad that I need to read an explanation in order to know what the author is saying. Straight-forward is the way to go.

| Posted on 2007-05-29 | by a guest


.: heart touching :.

I love the 1st stanza in which he says "there was a time when meadow........i now can see no more" awesome! In this poem he proved his belief about poetry "Poetry is a spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings which takes its origin from emotions recollected in tranquility with a colouring of imagination!" Marvellous words said by this great nature loves wordworth!

| Posted on 2007-05-27 | by a guest


.: :.

William Wordsworth is a British born poet in the time of the Romantic period. Wordsworth poets were mostly involved with nature. It is said that Wordsworth saw nature in a way that many others could not see. Wordsworth poems were very based on nature and what nature meant to him. And his understanding of nature. He would pay plenty of time. He would write ever thing that is involved with nature. For example he would write about the tress, plants. And the motion of the plants, the weather even animal because he believe that was all part of nature.

That is why Wordsworth was able to write the kind of poetry he made and why he made it. The poem titled ODE ON INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY is in which Wordsworth explain who human change over time. In the fact that when you are a child you are very connected with nature. But as we get old we attend to forget nature and become more with other responsibility of adulthood. In this poem Wordsworth uses a lot of imagery to get his point off to the reader. Being that when he is writing about nature. He wants us to be able see what he sees. Also be able feel what he feels. And understand that he is trying to get to us. And there is proof of this in many stanzas.

In the very first stanza Wordsworth talks about his surrounding. And the time in which ever thing was like a dream in which nature was at it fines point and being. When he stated The gory and freshness of a dream. There is everything that makes nature what it is. But then he states that By night or day The things which I have seen I can see no more." As to tell us that day by day nature the is losing touch with nature.
The second stanza starts with Wordsworth uses strong imagery to explain the things. That he is seeing. Form the rainbow that came and goes. To the roses that have the sun that gave them birth. The sunshine is a glorious birth. But again he feels that he is going to lose this touch with nature as he grows older with the falling and rising sun.

In the third stanza Wordsworth changes this senses of view being that while he was listening to the birds singing and watching some lambs play. He suddenly becomes sad and fearful. To me alone there came a thought of grief. But the sadness does not last to long be that the sound of nearby waterfalls and the echoes of the mountains with the gusting of the winds restored him to strength. Then he states that the earth is gay (happy).

Fourth stanza is started with Wordsworth talking about nature's creatures explains his feeling by says that his heart participates in their joyful festival. My heart is at your festival. And for him to feel any kind of grief on such a beautiful May morning would be him doing wrong to nature. He feel a great deal of joy watching children play and laugh among the flowers. But then suddenly a sad cloud comes again over his head again while watching a tree in the field. While looking at the tree he hears on tree saying to the other something. "Both of them speak something that is gone" and the same with the pansy(flower) at his feet does the same. He then asks what has happened to the visionary gleam. Whither is fled the visionary gleam?. "Where is it now, the glory and the dream?". As if to question himself as to what is happen to appearance of nature. A question that he later on himself answers.

The fifth stanza is when Wordsworth leaves nature as a whole and goes in deep with the appearance of nature. He writes that human life is merely a sleep and is forgetting important things. Our birth is but asleep and a forgetting. "Heaven lies about us in our infancy!". In this line Wordsworth explains that as children we are still able remember some memory of that place (heaven). Which is the reason that the life of a little child on the earth is filled with magic. But slow as the baby passes through boyhood to young adulthood and into manhood he sees that magic die. Also we tend to fall apart for nature .We then are less and less appearance of nature. In the six stanza Wordsworth explains. That because of earthly material we as humans forget what truly is need in life. We forget the true meaning of our arrive the earth.

Seventh stanza starts with Wordsworth writing about a six-year-old boy imagining what his life may just be like. And writes about the love his mother and father would have for him. Then Wordsworth describe the way in which a young boy leaves nature. Because now he has to deal with adulthood and a whole different kind life. Then Wordsworth explains that the boy starts to thing "some little plan or chart,". Now that the boy is an adult he has dreams based on adult ideas. For example Wordsworth writes that the boy will plan "a wedding or a festival". "a mourning or a funeral.". And this hath now this heart. Just many of the think any adult think about as he or she is growing up. And as the boy keeps growing in adulthood Wordsworth would state that the boy is loss touch with nature.

In this stanza the eighth stanza Wordsworth states the little boy as if he is a prophet might prophet! Seer blest!. To Wordsworth the boy is a prophet the one who will lead people back with nature. In the ninth stanza Wordsworth goes back in to the memories of his childhood. And remembers the enjoyment of be one with nature. That is when Wordsworth expressed a great amount of joy. o joy! To know that what ever happens he will be still able to get the same joy that he did so long ago again being that he will have nature with him at all times.

In the tenth stanza with this thought Wordsworth become very happy. And to show his happiness Wordsworth says the birds and other animals. To share there happiness he asks the animal to experiences there feeling any way they know. But then again he is stricken by the thought that he this old now. But again with the thought that he has been with nature all the years make him happy again. Being that he has a lot of memory of childhood and nature to remember and feel the joy like he felt before. In the final stanza Wordsworth states that he will forever be in love with nature and all of it beauty. For at one time he was a child. And the love of nature was with him form now and it will be with him to the day he dies.
Wordsworth love of nature can be found in many of his poems. But why he should a connect to nature was not known. To find that answer for yourself you can simple read the poem. Being that Wordsworth talk about many topic from what nature is for a child to adulthood. He explain why we are connected with nature at childhood .And how in adulthood with many responsibly we get separated from nature. What we can do to get in touch with nature once again. For nature is our second mother.


| Posted on 2006-04-08 | by Approved Guest


.: Boring! :.

In this poem, Wordsworth talks a whole load of cack. I think poetry is the most boring thing in the whole universe, especially this poem! Anyone who enjoys this kind of thing is a pompous, idiotic pratt who thinks they're incredibly intelligent for wasting their precious time reading and analysing this total and utter poop. So two fingers to all you stupid so called intellectuals who enjoy this kind of pathetic nonsense.

I personally much prefer the poem below. It has a much more interesting content. I think the poet who wrote it is truly brilliant.

| Posted on 2006-01-21 | by Approved Guest


.: :.

In this poem, Wordsworth is longing to return to his childhood. He looks at youth and becomes filled with a grief and a sadness that he can no longer be part of that imagination and excitment youth provides.Youth is a time which is full of dreams and you dont have to be sleeping to experience dreams. you can be wide awake.At various points throughout this poem he claims he can feel the bliss and the joy of the children but he is only fooling himself. When you mature, that magic of youth and the imagination, unfortunately disapear and they never return. In this poem, therefore Wordswoth is begging the youth to enjoy the magnbificant joy the imagination can provide before it is to late!

| Posted on 2005-12-02 | by Approved Guest


.: -- :.

'great' people like poets use satire and wit to criticise the society and its people(here not to harm theM but to teach them a lesson or to make them realise on some important fact). 'mad' and 'sick' people use filth, not to criticise but to attack or to make the 'great' people collapse mentally. it is obvious to any human being who possesses 'human qualities' that some of these 'barbarians' show thier jealousy and foolishness by attacking people without any solid reason. may be due to people and the false,immature attitudes like these that the poets like Wordsworth, blake and shelly wanted to lead a movement to change the false society. i must say to all the people who have contributed to the success of this page, that please donot let any idiot block your way. take what they say to you as an additional inspiration. pity on these inhuman poeple since they have no brain, no family and no back-bone.(ATTENTION-IF YOU EVER COME ACROOS SUCH A PERSON, PLEASE HELP THEM TO CONSULT A PSYCHIATRIC. THEY BADLY NEED HELP AND GUIDANCE TO BACOME A 'HUMAN BEING'..)

| Posted on 2005-11-26 | by Approved Guest




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Poetry 211
Poetry 166
Poetry 176
Poetry 58
Poetry 59
Poetry 163
Poetry 149
Poetry 179
Poetry 94