Make Us Gird Your Sinews and Find Simplicity Again

ten Greatest Poems Always Written

Updated: September 4, 2021

by Evan Mantyk

What is poetry? What is great poesy? The poems below answer these questions. From to the lowest degree greatest (10) to greatest greatest (ane), the poems in this list are limited to ones originally written in the English and which are under fifty lines, excluding poems like Homer's Iliad, Edgar Allan Poe's "Raven," Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy , and Lord Byron'south mock epic Don Juan . Each poem is followed by some brief analysis. Many proficient poems and poets had to be left off of this listing. In the comments section beneath, feel gratuitous to brand additions or construct your own lists. Y'all tin can besides submit analyses of archetype poetry to submissions@classicalpoets.org. They will be considered for publication on this website.

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10. "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost (1874-1963)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked downwardly one as far as I could
To where it aptitude in the undergrowth;

So took the other, as just equally fair,
And having perchance the better merits,
Considering it was grassy and wanted article of clothing;
Though as for that the passing at that place
Had worn them really about the aforementioned,

And both that morning time equally lay
In leaves no stride had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how manner leads on to way,
I doubted if I should always come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has fabricated all the departure.

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Analysis of the Poem

This poem deals with that big noble question of "How to make a departure in the globe?" On start reading, it tells usa that the choice one makes really does matter, ending: "I took the one less traveled by, / And that has fabricated all the divergence."

A closer reading reveals that the solitary pick that was made earlier past our traveling narrator perchance wasn't all that significant since both roads were pretty much the same anyway ("Had warn them really about the same") and it is just in the remembering and retelling that it fabricated a deviation. Nosotros are left to ponder if the narrator had instead traveled down "The Road Not Taken" might information technology have besides fabricated a deviation too. In a sense, "The Road Non Taken" tears apart the traditional view of individualism, which hinges on the importance of selection, every bit in the instance of commonwealth in general (choosing a candidate), every bit well as various ramble freedoms: choice of religion, choice of words (freedom of spoken communication), choice of group (freedom of assembly), and option of source of information (freedom of printing). For example, nosotros might imagine a young man choosing between being a carpenter or a banker later on seeing great significance in his choice to be a banker, simply in fact there was not much in his original conclusion at all other than a passing fancy. In this, nosotros run across the universality of man beings: the roads leading to carpenter and banker being basically the same and the carpenters and bankers at the end of them—seeming similar individuals who fabricated significant choices—actually being just function of the collective of the human race.

And then is this poem not nearly the question "How to make a departure in the world?" after all? No. It is still most this question. The ending is the near clear and striking role. If nothing else, readers are left with the impression that our narrator, who commands beautiful poesy, profound imagery, and time itself ("ages and ages hence") puts value on striving to make a deviation. The striving is reconstituted and complicated here in reflection, simply our hero wants to brand a divergence and so should we. That is why this is a slap-up poem, from a bones or close reading perspective.

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nine. "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)

Non like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With acquisition limbs astride from country to land;
Here at our body of water-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-manus
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, aboriginal lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe gratuitous,
The wretched pass up of your teeming shore.
Transport these, the homeless, storm-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

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Analysis of the Poem

Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor, this sonnet may have the greatest placement of whatsoever English language poem. It also has one of the greatest placements in history. Lazarus compares the Statue of Freedom to the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Vii Wonders of the Ancient World. Like the Statue of Freedom, the Colossus of Rhodes was an enormous god-like statue positioned in a harbor. Although the Colossus of Rhodes no longer stands, it symbolizes the aboriginal Greek world and the greatness of the ancient Greek and Roman civilization, which was lost for a one thousand years to the Westward, and just fully recovered again during the Renaissance. "The New Colossus" succinctly crystallizes the connection between the ancient globe and America, a modern nation. It'due south a connection that tin can be seen in the White House and other state and judicial buildings across America that architecturally mirror ancient Greek and Roman buildings; and in the American political system that mirrors Athenian Democracy and Roman Republicanism.

In the midst of this vast comparison of the aboriginal and the American, Lazarus still manages to clearly render America'due south distinct grapheme. It is the can-do spirit of taking those persecuted and poor from effectually the world and giving them a new opportunity and hope for the futurity, what she calls "the golden door." It is a uniquely scrappy and empathetic quality that sets Americans apart from the ancients. The relevance of this poem stretches all the way dorsum to the pilgrims fleeing religious persecution in Europe to the controversies surrounding modernistic immigrants from Mexico and the Eye East. While circumstances today have inverse drastically, in that location is no denying that this open door was function of what fabricated America dandy once upon a time. It's the perfect delineation of this quintessential Americanness that makes "The New Colossus" also outstanding.

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viii. "Ozymandias" by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

I met a traveler from an antique country
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My proper noun is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Cypher beside remains. Round the disuse
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

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Analysis of the Poem

In this winding story inside a story within a verse form, Shelley paints for the states the epitome of the ruins of a statue of ancient Egyptian king Ozymandias, who is today commonly known as Ramesses Ii. This rex is still regarded as the greatest and nigh powerful Egyptian pharaoh. Yet, all that'south left of the statue are his legs, which tell the states information technology was huge and impressive; the shattered head and snarling face, which tell the states how tyrannical he was; and his inscribed quote hailing the magnificent structures that he built and that accept been reduced to grit, which tells us they might not have been quite as magnificent equally Ozymandias imagined. The image of a dictator-like male monarch whose kingdom is no more creates a palpable irony. But, beyond that at that place is a perennial lesson about the inescapable and subversive forces of time, history, and nature. Success, fame, power, money, health, and prosperity tin merely last so long before fading into "alone and level sands."

There are yet more layers of meaning here that elevate this into ane of the greatest poems. In terms of lost civilizations that show the ephemeralness of man pursuits, in that location is no improve case than the Egyptians—who we associate with such dazzling monuments as the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid at Giza (that stands far taller than the Statue of Liberty)—yet who completely lost their spectacular linguistic communication, civilization, and civilisation. If the forces of time, history, and nature tin accept downwardly the Egyptian civilisation, it begs the question, "Who's adjacent?" Additionally, Ozymandias is believed to have been the villainous pharaoh who enslaved the ancient Hebrews and who Moses led the exodus from. If all ordinary pursuits, such as power and fame, are only dust, what remains, the verse form suggests, are spirituality and morality—embodied by the ancient Hebrew organized religion. If yous don't have those then in the long run you are a "colossal wreck." Thus, the perfectly equanimous scene itself, the Egyptian imagery, and the Biblical backstory convey a perennial message and brand this a great poem.

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7. "Ode on a Grecian Urn" by John Keats (1795-1821)

Grand yet unravish'd bride of quietness,
Chiliad foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus limited
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sugariness, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, 1000 canst not leave
Thy vocal, nor always can those trees exist bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst k kiss,
Though winning most the goal withal, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though 1000 hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt 1000 love, and she be fair!

Keats's ain cartoon of the Grecian Urn.

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever pipe songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy beloved!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a center high-sorrowful and disgust'd,
A called-for brow, and a parching natural language.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what greenish altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st k that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little boondocks by river or sea shore,
Or mount-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou fine art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease the states out of idea
Equally doth eternity: Common cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom g say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth dazzler,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

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Analysis of the Poem

Equally if in response to Shelley's "Ozymandias," Keats's "Ode on a Grecian Urn" offers a sort of antidote to the inescapable and destructive force of time. Indeed, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" was published in 1819 just a year or and then afterwards "Ozymandias." The antidote is simple: art. The art on the Grecian urn—which is basically a decorative pot from ancient Greece—has survived for thousands of years. While empires rose and brutal, the Grecian urn survived. Musicians, trees, lovers, heifers, and priests all continue dying decade after decade and century after century, but their artistic depictions on the Grecian urn live on for what seems eternity.

This realization nearly the timeless nature of fine art is not new now nor was it in the 1800s, but Keats has chosen a perfect case since ancient Greek civilization so famously disappeared into the ages, being subsumed past the Romans, and mostly lost until the Renaissance a k years later. Now, the ancient Greeks are all certainly dead (like the king Ozymandias in Shelley'south verse form) but the Greek fine art and civilization live on through Renaissance painters, the Olympic Games, endemic Neoclassical architecture, and, of course, the Grecian urn.

Further, what is depicted on the Grecian urn is a variety of life that makes the otherwise cold urn feel alive and vibrant. This aliveness is accentuated by Keats's barrage of questions and clarion exclamations: "More happy love! more happy, happy love!" Art, he seems to suggest, is more alive and real than we might imagine. Indeed, the last two lines tin can be read equally the urn itself talking: "Dazzler is truth, truth beauty,—that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." In these profound lines, Keats places us within ignorance, suggesting that what nosotros know on earth is limited, but that artistic dazzler, which he has now established is alive, is continued with truth. Thus, we can escape ignorance, humanness, and certain decease and approach another form of life and truth through the dazzler of art. This effectively completes the thought that began in Ozymandias and makes this a smashing poem ane notch upward from its predecessor.

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half-dozen. "The Tiger" by William Blake (1757-1827)

Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the dark;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the burn down of thine optics?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the burn?

And what shoulder, and what fine art,
Could twist the sinews of thy centre?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread paw? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its mortiferous terrors squeeze!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd sky with their tears:
Did he smile his work to run across?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal paw or heart,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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Analysis of the Poem

This poem contemplates a question arising from the idea of creation by an intelligent creator. The question is this: If in that location is a loving, compassionate God or gods who created human beings and whose great powers exceed the comprehension of human beings, as many major religions hold, then why would such a powerful being allow evil into the world. Evil here is represented by a tiger that might, should you be strolling in the Indian or Chinese wild in the 1700s, accept leapt out and killed yous. What would take created such a dangerous and evil beast? How could information technology maybe be the same divine blacksmith who created a cute harmless fluffy lamb or who created Jesus, as well known as the "Lamb of God" (which the devoutly Christian Blake was probably too referring to here). To put it another way, why would such a divine blacksmith create beautiful innocent children and then too permit such children to be slaughtered. The battery of questions brings this mystery to life with lavish intensity.

Does Blake offer an respond to this question of evil from a good God? It would seem not on the surface. But, this wouldn't exist a great verse form if it were really that open ended. The answer comes in the mode that Blake explains the question. Blake's language peels away the mundane world and offers a look at the super-reality to which poets are privy. Nosotros wing about in "forests of the dark" through "distant deeps or skies" looking for where the fire in the tiger'due south eye was taken from by the Creator. This is the reality of expanded fourth dimension, space, and perception that Blake so clearly elucidates elsewhere with the lines "To see a world in a grain of sand / And a heaven in a wild flower, / Agree infinity in the palm of your hand, / And eternity in an hour" ("Auguries of Innocence"). This indirectly tells us that the reality that nosotros ordinarily know and perceive is actually insufficient, shallow, and deceptive. Where nosotros perceive the injustice of the wild tiger something else entirely may exist transpiring. What we ordinarily take for truth may really exist far from it: a thought that is scary, yet as well sublime or beautiful—similar the cute and fearsome tiger. Thus, this poem is great because it concisely and compellingly presents a question that yet plagues humanity today, as well as a primal clue to the respond.

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5. "On His Incomprehension" by John Milton (1608-1674)

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hibernate
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more aptitude
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My truthful business relationship, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact twenty-four hours-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, presently replies: "God doth non need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His country
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without residual:
They as well serve who merely stand and wait."

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Analysis of the Poem

This poem deals with one's limitations and shortcomings in life. Everyone has them and Milton'due south blindness is a perfect case of this. His eyesight gradually worsened and he became totally blind at the age of 42. This happened afterwards he served in an eminent position under Oliver Cromwell's revolutionary Puritan government in England. To put it merely, Milton rose to the highest position an English author might at the time so sank all the way downward to a country of being unable read or write on his ain. How pathetic!

The genius of this verse form comes in the way that Milton transcends the misery he feels. Commencement, he frames himself, non as an individual suffering or lonely, only as a failed servant to the Creator: God. While Milton is disabled, God here is enabled through imagery of a king commanding thousands. This celestial monarch, his ministers and troops, and his kingdom itself are invisible to human eyes anyway, so already Milton has subtly undone much of his failing past subverting the necessity for human vision. More than straightforwardly, through the voice of Patience, Milton explains that serving the celestial monarch only requires bearing those hardships, which really aren't that bad (he calls them "mild") that life has burdened you with (like a "yoke" put on an ox). This one thousand mission from heaven may be every bit uncomplicated as standing and waiting, having patience, and understanding the order of the universe. Thus, this is a corking poem because Milton has not but dispelled sadness over a major shortcoming in life but also shown how the shortcoming is itself imbued with an extraordinary and uplifting purpose.

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4. "A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

What the centre of the immature man said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is only an empty dream!
For the soul is expressionless that slumbers,
And things are non what they seem.

Life is real! Life is hostage!
And the grave is not its goal;
Grit thousand fine art, to grit returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined stop or style;
Merely to deed, that each tomorrow
Detect us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Nevertheless, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's wide field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past coffin its expressionless!
Deed,—human activity in the living Present!
Heart inside, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind u.s.
We tin make our lives sublime,
And, parting, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;—

Footprints, that possibly some other,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Permit u.s.a., and then, exist up and doing,
With a middle for any fate;
Withal achieving, still pursuing,
Acquire to labor and to wait.

Assay of the Poem

In this 9-stanza poem, the kickoff half-dozen stanzas are rather vague since each stanza seems to begin a new thought. Instead, the emphasis here is on a feeling rather than a rational train of thought. What feeling? It seems to be a reaction confronting science, which is focused on calculations ("mournful numbers") and empirical evidence, of which at that place is no, or very fiddling, to prove the existence of the soul. Longfellow lived when the Industrial Revolution was in high gear and the ideals of scientific discipline, rationality, and reason flourished. From this perspective, the fact that the commencement half-dozen stanzas practice not follow a rational train of thought makes perfect sense.

According to the verse form, the force of science seems to restrain one's spirit or soul ("for the soul is dead that slumbers"), lead to inaction and complacency from which we must pause free ("Act,—act in the living Present! / Heart within, and God o'erhead!") for lofty purposes such equally Art, Eye, and God before fourth dimension runs out ("Fine art is long, and Time is fleeting"). The concluding iii stanzas—which, having broken gratis from science past this signal in the poem, read more than smoothly—suggest that this interim for lofty purposes can pb to greatness and can help our fellow man.

Nosotros might remember of the entire poem as a clarion call to do great things, still insignificant they may seem in the nowadays and on the empirically observable surface. That may mean writing a poem and entering it into a verse contest, when yous know the chances of your verse form winning are very small; risking your life for something you believe in when y'all know it is not pop or it is misunderstood; or volunteering for a cause that, although it may seem hopeless, you feel is truly important. Thus, the greatness of this poem lies in its ability to so clearly prescribe a method for greatness in our mod world.

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three. "Daffodils" past William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

I wandered lone as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, below the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the cakewalk.

Continuous every bit the stars that smoothen
And twinkle on the galaxy,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
X thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves abreast them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not merely be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—simply footling thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For ofttimes, when on my couch I prevarication
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inwards eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And so my eye with pleasance fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

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Analysis of the Poem

Through the narrator's gamble encounter with a field of daffodils by the h2o, we are presented with the power and beauty of the natural globe. It sounds simple plenty, but at that place are several factors that contribute to this poem's greatness. Beginning, the poem comes at a time when the Western world is industrializing and man feels spiritually solitary in the confront of an increasingly godless worldview. This feeling is perfectly harnessed by the depiction of wandering through the wilderness "lonely equally a cloud" and by the ending scene of the narrator sadly lying on his couch "in vacant or in pensive mood" and finding happiness in solitude. The daffodils then go more than nature; they become a companion and a source of personal joy. Second, the very simplicity itself of enjoying nature—flowers, trees, the bounding main, the sky, the mountains etc.—is perfectly manifested by the simplicity of the verse form: the 4 stanzas simply begin with daffodils, describe daffodils, compare daffodils to something else, and end on daffodils, respectively. Any common reader tin easily go this poem, equally easily as her or she might enjoy a walk effectually a lake.

Third, Wordsworth has subtly put forwards more than than just an ode to nature here. Every stanza mentions dancing and the third stanza even calls the daffodils "a show." At this time in England, one might take paid money to see an opera or other performance of high creative quality. Here, Wordsworth is putting frontward the idea that nature can offer like joys and even give you "wealth" instead of taking it from you, undoing the idea that beauty is attached to earthly money and social condition. This, coupled with the language and topic of the verse form, which are both relatively accessible to the mutual man, brand for a great poem that demonstrates the all-encompassing and attainable nature of beauty and its associates, truth and bliss.

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2. "Holy Sonnet 10: Death, Be Non Proud" by John Donne (1572-1631)

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art non and so;
For those whom grand think'st thou dost overthrow
Die non, poor Death, nor however canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; so from thee much more must period,
And soonest our all-time men with thee do go,
Residuum of their basic, and soul's delivery.
G art slave to fate, risk, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can brand us sleep also
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st g then?
One brusk sleep by, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, grand shalt dice.

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Analysis of the Poem

Decease is a perennial subject of fear and despair. But, this sonnet seems to say that it need not be this way. The highly focused attack on Death'due south sense of pride uses a grocery list of rhetorical attacks: Offset, sleep, which is the closest human experience to death, is really quite nice. Second, all bully people dice sooner or later and the procedure of death could be viewed as joining them. 3rd, Decease is under the command of higher authorities such every bit fate, which controls accidents, and kings, who wage wars; from this perspective, Death seems no more than than a pawn in a larger chess game within the universe. Fourth, Death must associate with some unsavory characters: "poisonous substance, wars, and sickness." Yikes! They must make unpleasant coworkers! (Y'all tin can nigh see Donne laughing as he wrote this.) 5th, "poppy and charms" (drugs) tin do the slumber job as well as Death or ameliorate. Death, you're fired!

The sixth, near compelling, and most serious reason is that if one truly believes in a soul then Decease is really cypher to worry near. The soul lives eternally and this explains line iv, when Donne says that Death can't kill him. If yous recognize the subordinate position of the torso in the universe and identify more fully with your soul, and so you tin can't be killed in an ordinary sense. Further, this poem is so great because of its universal awarding. Fright of death is then natural an instinct and Death itself so extensive and inescapable for people, that the spirit of this poem and applicability of information technology extends to most whatever fear or weakness of graphic symbol that one might have. Confronting, caput on, such a fear or weakness, as Donne has washed here, allows human being beings to transcend their status and their perception of Death, more fully maybe than one might through fine art by itself—as many poets from this pinnacle ten listing seem to say—since the art may or may not survive may or may not be any skilful, but the intrinsic quality of one'south soul lives eternally. Thus, Donne leaves a powerful lesson to larn from: confront what you fear caput on and think that there is nothing to fear on earth if yous believe in a soul.

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one. "Sonnet xviii" by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Shall I compare thee to a summertime'south twenty-four hour period?
M art more than lovely and more temperate:
Crude winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer'southward lease hath all too short a engagement:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oftentimes is his aureate complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing class, untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to fourth dimension thousand grow'st;
So long as men can breathe or optics can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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Analysis of the Poem

Basically, the narrator tells someone he esteems highly that this person is better than a summer'due south twenty-four hours because a summer'south day is often likewise hot and besides windy, and especially because a summer'south twenty-four hours doesn't terminal; it must fade away simply as people, plants, and animals die. But, this esteemed person does not lose beauty or fade away like a summer's 24-hour interval because he or she is eternally preserved in the narrator's own poetry. "So long lives this, and this gives life to thee" means "This poetry lives long, and this poetry gives life to y'all."

From a modernistic perspective this poem might come off as pompous (bold the greatness of one's ain poetry), arbitrary (criticizing a summertime'south day upon what seems a whim), and sycophantic (praising someone without substantial evidence). How then could this possibly be number one? Subsequently the bad taste of an quondam season to a modernistic tongue wears off, we realize that this is the very best of poesy. This is non pompous because Shakespeare actually achieves greatness and creates an eternal poem. It is okay to recognize poetry every bit keen if it is corking and it is okay to recognize an artistic hierarchy. In fact, it is absolutely necessary in educating, guiding, and leading others. The attack on a summer's twenty-four hours is not arbitrary. Woven throughout the language is an implicit connection between human beings, the natural world ("a summer's day"), and sky (the sun is "the middle of heaven"). A comparison of a human being being to a summer'south day immediately opens the mind to unconventional possibilities; to spiritual perspectives; to the ethereal realm of poetry and beauty. The unabashed praise for someone without a hint equally to fifty-fifty the gender or accomplishments of the person is not irrational or sycophantic. Information technology is a pure and simple way of budgeted our relationships with other people, assuming the best. Information technology is a happier style to live—immediately free from the depression, stress, and pessimism that creeps into our hearts. Thus, this poem is strikingly and refreshingly assuming, profound, and uplifting.

Finally, every bit to the question of overcoming death, fright, and the decay of time, an overarching question in these nifty poems, Shakespeare adroitly answers them all by skipping the question, suggesting it is of no consequence. He wields such sublime power that he is unmoved and can instead offering remedy, his verse, at volition to those he sees conforming. How marvelous!

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Source: https://classicalpoets.org/2016/01/07/10-greatest-poems-ever-written/

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