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Poems for the Millennium, Volume Three

Poems for the Millennium, Volume Three: The University of California Book of Romantic & Postromantic Poetry

Jerome Rothenberg
Jeffrey C. Robinson
Copyright Date: 2009
Edition: 1
Pages: 960
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  • Book Info
    Poems for the Millennium, Volume Three
    Book Description:

    The previous two volumes of this acclaimed anthology set forth a globally decentered revision of twentieth-century poetry from the perspective of its many avant-gardes. Now editors Jerome Rothenberg and Jeffrey C. Robinson bring a radically new interpretation to the poetry of the preceding century, viewing the work of the romantic and post-romantic poets as an international, collective, often utopian enterprise that became the foundation of experimental modernism. Global in its range, volume three gathers selections from the poetry and manifestos of canonical poets, as well as the work of lesser-known but equally radical poets. Defining romanticism as experimental and visionary, Rothenberg and Robinson feature prose poetry, verbal-visual experiments, and sound poetry, along with more familiar forms seen here as if for the first time. The anthology also explores romanticism outside the European orbit and includes ethnopoetic and archaeological works outside the literary mainstream. The range of volume three and its skewing of the traditional canon illuminate the process by which romantics and post- romantics challenged nineteenth-century orthodoxies and propelled poetry to the experiments of a later modernism and avant-gardism.

    eISBN: 978-0-520-94220-2
    Subjects: Language & Literature

Table of Contents

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  1. Front Matter
    (pp. i-iv)
  2. Table of Contents
    (pp. v-xxiv)
    (pp. 1-18)
    Jerome Rothenberg and Jeffrey C. Robinson

    Lying behind the present gathering is a sense that the most radical and experimental works of our time—in poetry and across the arts—belong to a continuity that stretches back two centuries and more, along with a presentiment of the dark turn the world has again taken in the new century and millennium opening before us. The time, it seems to us, is ready for a reassessment of where we are and where we’ve come from—a new mapping that will stress connections, too often denied, while paying equal attention to the conflicts within the lineage we’re tracing. At...

    (pp. 19-20)

    • Jean-Jacques Rousseau 1712–1778
      (pp. 23-26)
      Jean-Jacques Rousseau

      Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains. One thinks himself the master of others, and still remains a greater slave than they. How did this change come about? I do not know. What can make it legitimate? That question I think I can answer.

      If I took into account only force, and the effects derived from it, I should say: “As long as a people is compelled to obey, and obeys, it does well; as soon as it can shake off the yoke, and shakes it off, it does still better; for, regaining its liberty by the...

    • Emanuel Swedenborg 1688–1772
      (pp. 26-29)
      Emanuel Swedenborg

      For many weeks I have been in conversation with the Apostles, with Abraham, with Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Sarah, the wife of Abraham, Leah and Rachel, at which time I could believe no otherwise than that I had been conversing with those persons: but afterwards, having been taught by experience, I could deduce that they were those who assumed the place of these persons in the interior heaven and also believed that they were those same persons. For the angels of the more interior heaven are able to speak with men by means of spirits of the interior heaven, thus this...

    • Denis Diderot 1713–1784
      (pp. 30-34)
      Denis Diderot

      He [coming close and whispering in my ear]. I shouldn’t like to be overheard, for there are hereabouts plenty of people who know me—but itisdull. Not that I worry myself much about the dear uncle—if “dear” has to come into it. He is made of stone: he could see my tongue hanging out a foot long and he would not give me a glass of water. But try as he will—with the octave, the leading note—Tum-tum-ta-ta-tum, toot-toot-toot-tra-la-toot—even though he makes a racket like the very devil, some people are beginning to catch on;...

    • Christopher Smart 1722–1771
      (pp. 34-41)
      Christopher Smart
    • Erasmus Darwin 1731–1802
      (pp. 42-45)
      Erasmus Darwin

      Mimosa. The sensitive plant. Of the class Polygamy, one house. Naturalists have not explained the immediate cause of the collapsing of the sensitive plant; the leaves meet and close in the night during the sleep of the plant, or when exposed to much cold in the day-time, in the same manner as when they are affected by external violence, folding their upper surfaces together, and in part over each other like scales or tiles; so as to expose as little of the upper surface as may be to the air; but do not indeed collapse quite so far, since I...

    • James Macpherson 1736–1796
      (pp. 46-52)
      James Macpherson

      Star of falling night! fair is thy light in the west! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud: thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings, and the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee, and bathe thy lovely hair. Farewel, thou silent beam!—Let...

    • Donatien Alphonse François, marquis de Sade 1740–1814
      (pp. 53-57)
      marquis de Sade

      Leaving the volcanic plain of Pietra-Mala, we climbed for an hour back up a tall mountain situated to the right. From the crest of this mountain, we noticed chasms more than two thousand fathoms deep, toward which our path was leading us. The entire area was enveloped by woods that were so remarkably thick, so laden with foliage, that one could scarcely see the road ahead. After descending a rigid slope for nearly three hours, we arrived at the edge of a vast lake. On an island located in the middle of that body of water, one could see the...

    • Francisco Goya 1746–1828
      (pp. 58-62)
      Francisco Goya
    • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1749–1832
      (pp. 63-65)
      Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
    • Thomas Chatterton 1752–1770
      (pp. 65-72)
      Thomas Chatterton
    • Mary Robinson 1758–1800
      (pp. 72-75)
      Mary Robinson

      The barbarity of custom’s law in this enlightened country, has long been exercised to the prejudice of woman: and even the laws of honour have been perverted to oppress her. If a man receive an insult, he is justified in seeking retribution. He may chastise, challenge, and even destroy his adversary. Such a proceeding in man is termed honourable; his character is exonerated from the stigma which calumny attached to it; and his courage rises in estimation, in proportion as it exemplifies his revenge. But were a woman to attempt such an expedient, however strong her sense of injury, however...

    • William Blake 1757–1827
      (pp. 76-78)
      William Blake
  6. A FIRST GALLERY: From Goethe & Blake to Solomos & Pushkin

    • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1749–1832
      (pp. 81-95)
      Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
    • William Blake 1757–1827
      (pp. 95-109)
      William Blake
    • Joseph Joubert 1754–1824
      (pp. 109-114)
      Joseph Joubert

      —There is no more white paper on the earth and the source of ink has dried up.—Give my pen an iron point, a diamond point, give me leaves of copper; I will engrave on them. …—

      It is not facts, but rumors that cause emotions among the people. What is believed creates everything.

      Extension is the body of God, as Newton would readily say.

      Mixture of dry and wet. Water swells before boiling.

      The ears and eyes are the doors and windows of the soul.

      … And travel through open spaces where one sees nothing but...

    • Mary Robinson 1758–1800
      (pp. 114-120)
      Mary Robinson
    • Robert Burns 1759–1796
      (pp. 121-133)
      Robert Burns
    • Jean Paul [Richter] 1763–1825
      (pp. 133-137)
      Jean Paul

      If we hear, in childhood, that the Dead, about midnight, when oursleep reaches near the soul, and darkens even our dreams, awake out of theirs, and in the church mimic the worship of the living, we shudder at Death by reason of the dead, and in the night-solitude turn away our eyes from the long silent windows of the church, and fear to search in their gleaming, whether it proceed from the moon.

      Childhood, and rather its terrors than its raptures, take wings and radiance again in dreams, and sport like fire-flies in the little night of the soul....

    • Germaine de Staël 1766–1817
      (pp. 138-145)
      Germaine de Staël

      Her lyre was ready, and all her friends were impatient to hear her. Even the ordinary people who knew her by reputation, those ordinary people who, in the South, are, through their imaginations, good judges of poetry, silently surrounded the enclosure where Corinne’s friends were gathered. Through their animated expressions all these Neapolitan faces expressed the keenest attention.… So, by common accord, all Corinne’s friends asked her to takethe memories aroused by these placesas the subject for the verses she was about to sing. She tuned her lyre and, in a faltering voice, began.…

      “Nature, poetry, and history...

    • Friedrich Hölderlin 1770–1843
      (pp. 145-160)
      Friedrich Hölderlin
    • William Wordsworth 1770–1850
      (pp. 160-182)
      William Wordsworth
    • Dorothy Wordsworth 1771–1855
      (pp. 183-190)
      Dorothy Wordsworth

      Tuesday, May 4th[1802]. William had slept pretty well & though he went to bed nervous & jaded in the extreme he rose refreshed. I wrote the Leech Gatherer for him which he had begun the night before & of which he wrote several stanzas in bed this Monday morning. It was very hot, we called at Mr Simpson’s door as we passed but did not go in. We rested several times by the way, read & repeated the Leech gatherer. We were almost melted before we were at the top of the hill. We saw Coleridge on the Wytheburn Side of the water,...

    • Novalis 1772–1801
      (pp. 190-202)

      If one intends to speak of something secret with a few others, when one is in a greater, diffused society, and the group is not close together, then one must discourse in an extraordinary language. This extraordinary language can be either in overtones, or after the image of a foreign language. The latter proves to be a metaphorical or cryptic language.

      The mystical expression is more an attracting thought. All truth is primeval. The charm of its newness lies only in the variation of expression. The more contrasting its manifestations, the greater the delight of the renewed knowledge.

      Whatever one...

    • Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772–1834
      (pp. 202-217)
      Samuel Taylor Coleridge
    • Charles Fourier 1772–1837
      (pp. 217-221)
      Charles Fourier

      I alone shall have confounded twenty centuries of political imbecility, and it is to me alone that present and future generations will be indebted for their boundless happiness. Before me, mankind lost several thousand years in fighting madly against nature. I am the first who bowed before her by studying attraction, the organ of her decrees. She has deigned to smile upon the only mortal who has brought incense to her shrine; she has delivered up all her treasures to me. I come as the possessor of the book of Destiny to banish political and moral darkness and to erect...

    • Thomas De Quincey 1785–1859
      (pp. 221-229)
      Thomas De Quincey

      Passion of Sudden Death! that once in youth I read and interpreted by the shadows of thy averted* signs;—Rapture of panic taking the shape, which amongst tombs in churches I have seen, of woman bursting her sepulchral bonds—of woman’s Ionic form bending forward from the ruins of her grave, with arching foot, with eyes upraised, with clasped adoring hands—waiting, watching, trembling, praying, for the trumpet’s call to rise from dust for ever;—Ah, vision too fearful of shuddering humanity on the brink of abysses! vision that didst start back—that didst reel away—like a shrivelling scroll...

    • George Gordon, Lord Byron 1788–1824
      (pp. 230-243)
      George Gordon
    • Giuseppe Belli 1791–1863
      (pp. 243-249)
      Giuseppe Belli
    • Percy Bysshe Shelly 1792–1822
      (pp. 250-278)
      Percy Bysshe Shelley

      • Prologue
        (pp. 279-281)

        In that spirit there was an urge to move across boundaries, while the pull of the nation-state was also very strong & the project at the outset was restrained by limits of both space & time. The poetries of the West, when brought “into their comparisons” (R. Duncan), were read as both a past & present, but the Western view of Asia froze it in time or focused solely on what was old & “classic.” At the same time, Western poets & writers could present themselves as purveyors of Asian thematics, largely the result of ancient themes received at second or third hand. Yet within...

      • Kobayashi Issa 1763–1827
        (pp. 281-285)
        Kobayashi Issa
      • Hô Xuân Huong 1775–1820
        (pp. 285-286)
        Hô Xuân Huong
      • Wu Tsao circa 1800
        (pp. 286-288)
        Wu Tsao
      • Bibi Hayati early 1800s–1853
        (pp. 288-291)
        Bibi Hayati
      • Rabindranath Tagore 1861–1941
        (pp. 291-292)
        Rabindranath Tagore
    • John Clare 1793–1864
      (pp. 293-300)
      John Clare
    • John Keats 1795–1821
      (pp. 301-314)
      John Keats
    • Heinrich Heine 1797–1856
      (pp. 314-334)
      Heinrich Heine
    • Adam Mickiewicz 1798–1855
      (pp. 335-343)
      Adam Mickiewicz
    • Giacomo Leopardi 1798–1837
      (pp. 343-357)
      Giacomo Leopardi
    • Dionysios Solomos 1798–1857
      (pp. 358-375)
      Dionysios Solomos
    • Aleksander Pushkin 1799–1837
      (pp. 375-392)
      Aleksander Pushkin

      (pp. 395-396)

      If it was the century after that finally produced a fullblownethnopoetics—& the fullness even now is far from complete—the earlier openings coincided with the Romantics’ search for new origins, an inheritance in turn from the generations that immediately preceded theirs. Something had happened—Enlightenment or Revolution or, on its more doubtful side, Imperium—that brought other worlds into view & put the inherited past into question. It was a measure of the new liberty & the new science that what had long been lost or repressed or concealed now came to the surface. The first openings here were to ancient...

    • William Blake 1757–1827
      (pp. 397-397)
      William Blake

      The ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive.

      And particularly they studied the genius of each city & country, placing it under its mental deity.

      Till a system was formed, which some took advantage of & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects; thus began Priesthood.

      Choosing forms of worship from poetic tales.

      And at length they pronounc’d that the Gods had order’d such things....

    • E.A. Wallis Budge 1857–1934
      (pp. 397-398)
      E.A. Wallis Budge
    • G. R. S. Mead 1863–1933
      (pp. 398-402)
      G. R. S. Mead

      The perfect Saviour said:Son of Man consented with Sophia, his consort, and revealed a great androgynous light. Its male name is designated “Saviour, begetter of all things.” Its female name is designated “All-begettress Sophia.” Some call her “Pistis [Faith].”

      And Pistis Sophia cried out most exceedingly, she cried to the Light of lights which she had seen from the beginning, in which she had had faith, and uttered this repentance, saying thus:

      “O Light of lights, in whom I have had faith from the beginning, hearken now then, O Light, unto my repentance. Save me, O Light, for evil...

    • Sir William Jones 1746–1794
      (pp. 402-403)
      William Jones

      1. As a tree, the lord of the forest, even so, without fiction, is man: his hairs are as leaves; his skin, as exterior bark.

      2. Through the skin flows blood; through the rind, sap: from a wounded man, therefore, blood gushes, as the vegetable fluid from a tree that is cut.

      3. His muscles are as interwoven fibres; the membrane round his bones as interior bark, which is closely fixed: his bones are as the hard pieces of wood within: their marrow is composed of pith.

      4. Since the tree, when felled, springs again, still fresher, from the root, from what root springs...

    • Edward FitzGerald 1809–1883
      (pp. 403-405)
      Edward FitzGerald
    • Daniel G. Brinton 1837—1899
      (pp. 406-407)
      Daniel G. Brinton

      1. Hail to our mother, who caused the yellow flowers to blossom, who scattered the seeds of the maguey, as she came forth from Paradise.

      2. Hail to our mother, who poured forth flowers in abundance, who scattered the seeds of the maguey, as she came forth from Paradise.

      3. Hail to our mother, who caused the yellow flowers to blossom, she who scattered the seeds of the maguey, as she came forth from Paradise.

      4. Hail to our mother, who poured forth white flowers in abundance, who scattered the seeds of the maguey, as she came forth from Paradise.

      5. Hail to the goddess...

    • Henry Wardsworth Longfellow 1807–1882 Henry Rowe Schoolcraft 1793–1864
      (pp. 407-407)
      Henry Wardsworth Longfellow and Henry Rowe Schoolcraft
    • Washington Matthews 1843–1905
      (pp. 408-410)
      Washington Matthews
    • Francis J. Child 1825–1896
      (pp. 411-412)
      Francis J. Child
    • Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792–1822
      (pp. 412-413)
      Percy Bysshe Shelley
    • Vuk Karadžić 1787–1864
      (pp. 413-414)
      Vuk Karadžić
    • Lady Charlotte Guest 1812–1895
      (pp. 414-415)
      Lady Charlotte Guest
    • Esaias Tegnér 1782–1846 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807–1882
      (pp. 416-417)
      Esaias Tegner and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
    • Christmas Gysarts [Mummers] Play from Bowden 1815
      (pp. 417-421)
    • Thomas Wentworth Higginson 1823–1911
      (pp. 421-425)
      Thomas Wentworth Higginson
    • Anonymous
      (pp. 425-426)
      (pp. 426-430)

      Wednesd. Morn. 3 ºclock, Dec. 13, 1803. Bad dreams / How oftenof a sort/ at the university—a mixture of Xts Hospital Church / escapes there—lose myself / trust to two People, one Maim’d, one unknown / insulted by a fat sturdy Boy of about 14, like a Bacchus / who dabs a flannel in my face, (or rather soft hair brown Shawl stuff) (was this a flannel Night-cap?) he attacks me / I call to my Friends—they come & join in the Hustle against me—out rushes a university Harlot, who insists on my going with...

    • Charles Darwin 1809–1882
      (pp. 431-432)
      Charles Darwin

      It is interesting to contemplate an entangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent on each other in so complex a manner, have all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the largest sense, being Growth with Reproduction; Inheritance which is almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct action of the external conditions of life, and from use...

  8. A SECOND GALLERY: From Hugo & Lonnrot to Swinburne & Mallarme

    • Victor Hugo 1802–1885
      (pp. 435-451)
      Victor Hugo
    • Elias Lönnrot 1802–1884
      (pp. 451-459)
      Elias Lönnrot
    • Thomas Lovell Beddoes 1803–1849
      (pp. 459-466)
      Thomas Lovell Beddoes
    • Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1806–1861
      (pp. 466-476)
      Elizabeth Barrett Browning
    • Aloysius Bertrand 1807–1841
      (pp. 476-481)
      Aloysius Bertrand

      Art is a coin with two antithetical faces—one side bearing resemblance to Paul Rembrandt, and the other to Jacques Callot. Rembrandt is the philosopher with long white beard self-ensconced in his retreat, his thoughts absorbed in meditation and prayer, closing eyes to dwell within and to converse with the spirits of beauty, science, wisdom and love—consumed by the desire to penetrate the mysterious symbols of nature. Callot, on the contrary, is the blustering joker who swaggers through the town, causes disturbances in taverns, and makes love to loose women—believing in nothing but his rapier and his blunderbuss—...

    • Gerard de Nerval 1808–1855
      (pp. 482-493)
      Gerard de Nerval
    • Ralph Waldo Emerson 1809–1882
      (pp. 494-504)
      Ralph Waldo Emerson
    • Edgar Allan Poe 1809–1849
      (pp. 504-509)
      Edgar Allan Poe
    • Alfred Tennyson 1809–1892
      (pp. 510-520)
      Alfred Tennyson
    • Robert Browning 1812–1889
      (pp. 520-530)
      Robert Browning
    • Edward Lear 1812–1888
      (pp. 531-540)
      Edward Lear
    • Søren Kierkegaard 1813–1855
      (pp. 540-545)
      Søren Kierkegaard

      If a man possessed a letter which he knew, or believed, contained information bearing upon what he must regard as his life’s happiness, but the writing was pale and fine, almost illegible—then would he read it with restless anxiety and with all possible passion, in one moment getting one meaning, in the next another, depending on his belief that, having made out one word with certainty he could interpret the rest thereby; but he would never arrive at anything except the same uncertainty with which he began. He would stare more and more anxiously, but the more he stared,...


      • Prologue
        (pp. 546-547)

        While theideaof a poetry outside-of-literature insinuated itself into the thinking of many within the nineteenth-century literary world, an actual but largely undervaluedoutsider poetry(many such poetries, in fact) maintained its own semiautonomous existence. With this split in the fabric of nineteenth-century consciousness (never wholly repaired up to the present) we enter the domain of the “self-taught poet,” separated from acknowledgedliteratureby the accidents of class & region. Yet it was here where the bulk of poetry was written—or spoken & memorized—or where other works of language were created that did what poetry does but without a...

      • Antoine Ó Reachtabhra [Blind Raftery] 1784–1835
        (pp. 547-548)
        Antoine Ó Reachtabhra
      • Anonymous Revolutionary Pamphlet 1775
        (pp. 548-549)

        1. And behold! when the tidings came to the great city that is afar off, the city that is in the land of Britain, how the men of Boston, even the Bostonites, had arose, a great multitude, and destroyed the Tea, the abominable merchandise of the east, and cast it into the midst of the sea:

        2. That the Lord the King waxed exceeding wroth, insomuch that the form of his visage was changed, and his knees smote one against the other.

        3. Then he assembled together the Princes, the Nobles, the Counselors, the Judges, and all the Rulers of the people, even...

      • James Reuben
        (pp. 549-551)
        James Reuben
      • Jacob Carpenter 1833–1920
        (pp. 551-552)
        Jacob Carpenter
      • Anonymous
        (pp. 552-553)
      • Ernest Jones 1819–1869
        (pp. 553-556)
        Ernest Jones
      • Thomas Cooper 1805–1892
        (pp. 556-560)
        Thomas Cooper
      • Joanna Southcott 1750–1814
        (pp. 560-561)
        Joanna Southcott

        “But now I will come to Pilate’s question,‘Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you?’the serpent, or the woman? Here is as just an inquiry as Pilate made. One of the two must be cast, before your full redemption can be accomplished. Now answer for thyself, O man! and I will for the woman. Did I not bear all the blame man cast on ME? (This refers to the Fall:‘The woman thou gavest to be with me, she tempted me and I did eat.’) And is it not just, the serpent should bear the...

      • Anonymous
        (pp. 562-562)
    • Mikhail Lermontov 1814–1841
      (pp. 563-569)
      Mikhail Lermontov
    • Walt Whitman 1819–1892
      (pp. 569-584)
      Walt Whitman
    • Herman Melville 1819–1891
      (pp. 584-590)
      Herman Melville
    • Cyprian Norwid 1821–1883
      (pp. 590-596)
      Cyprian Norwid
    • Charles Baudelaire 1821–1867
      (pp. 596-608)
      Charles Baudelaire
    • Sándor Petöfi 1822–1849
      (pp. 608-619)
      Sándor Petöfi
    • Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1828–1882
      (pp. 619-634)
      Dante Gabriel Rossetti
    • Emily Dickinson 1830–1886
      (pp. 634-644)
      Emily Dickinson
    • Christina Rossetti 1830–1894
      (pp. 644-655)
      Christina Rossetti
    • Sousândrade [Joaquim de Sousa Andrade] 1832–1902
      (pp. 655-663)
    • Adah Isaacs Menken 1835–1868
      (pp. 663-673)
    • Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837–1909
      (pp. 674-685)
      Algernon Charles Swinburne
    • Stéphane Mallarmé 1842–1898
      (pp. 686-704)
      Stéphane Mallarmé

      (pp. 707-708)

      It was Blake’s prophecy of an unfettering—& thepracticeof poetry that accompanied it—that presaged what would issue finally in the revolutions-of-the-word at the heart of any/every future avant-garde. As such, the late eighteenth-century urge to “unfetter” citizens from social constraints & repressions had its counterpart in an “unfettered” version of poetry itself. The political association to the liberation or unfettering of prisoners from their chains—in, for example, the Bastille—was revisited in the visionary liberations described in some poems of the period & in the unfettering of traditional form & conventional syntax. Often conflated with “thefancy” & set in conflict...

    • William Blake 1757–1827
      (pp. 709-709)
      William Blake
    • Two Shaker Vision Drawings
      (pp. 710-711)
    • Edward Lear 1812–1888
      (pp. 712-712)
      Edward Lear
    • Lewis Carroll 1832–1898
      (pp. 713-713)
      Lewis Carroll
    • Guillaume Apollinaire 1880–1918
      (pp. 714-714)
      Guillaume Apollinaire
    • Lewis Carroll 1832–1898
      (pp. 715-715)
      Lewis Carroll
    • The Shakers
      (pp. 716-716)
    • August Strindberg 1849–1912
      (pp. 716-717)
      August Strindberg
    • Lafcadio Hearn 1850–1904
      (pp. 717-717)
      Lafcadio Hearn
    • James Clarence Mangan 1803–1849
      (pp. 718-718)
      James Clarence Mangan
    • Leigh Hunt 1784–1859
      (pp. 719-719)
      Leigh Hunt
    • Arthur Rimbaud 1854–1891
      (pp. 719-719)
      Arthur Rimbaud
    • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1749–1832
      (pp. 720-720)
      Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      “At times,” Goethe continued, “the experience I had with my poems was quite different. I had no impression of them in advance and no presentiment. They came over me suddenly and demanded to be made then and there, and I felt compelled to write them down on the spot, in an instinctive and dreamlike fashion. When I was in such a somnambulistic state, it often happened that the paper before me lay all aslant and that I noticed this only when everything was written, or when I found no room to go on writing. I used to have several sheets...

    • Lewis Carroll 1832–1898
      (pp. 720-720)
      Lewis Carroll

      (a) All babies are illogical.

      (b) Nobody is despised who can manage a crocodile.

      (c) Illogical persons are despised.

      (a) None of the unnoticed things, met with at sea, are mermaids.

      (b) Things entered in the log, as met with at sea, are sure to be worth remembering.

      (c) I have never met with anything worth remembering, when on a voyage.

      (d) Things met with at sea, that are noticed, are sure to be recorded in the log.

      (a) No interesting poems are unpopular among people of real taste.

      (b) No modern poetry is free from affectation.

      (c) Allyour...

    • Walt Whitman 1819–1892
      (pp. 721-721)
      Walt Whitman
    • Mary Shelley 1797–1851
      (pp. 722-723)
      Mary Shelley

      [At harvest time] thecontadini[peasants] cheer themselves with songs, either singly, in harmony, or in response. … A man on one tree, will challenge another perched afar off, calling out the name of a flower; the challenged responds with an extempore couplet, sometimes founded on the metaphoric meaning attached, of the flower’s name, sometimes given at random, and then returns the challenge by naming another flower, which is replied to in the same manner. We have unluckily preserved but two of these impromptus, and they are both on the same flower:—

      Fior di cent’ erbe!

      Non bimbi voglion bene...

    • Henry David Thoreau 1817–1862
      (pp. 723-724)
      Henry David Thoreau

      As I went under the new telegraph wire, I heard it vibrating like a harp high overhead. It was as the sound of a far-off glorious life, a supernal life, which came down to us, and vibrated in the lattice-work of this life of ours.

      Yesterday and today the stronger winds of autumn have begun to blow, and the telegraph harp has sounded loudly. I heard it especially in the Deep Cut this afternoon, the tone varying with the tension of different parts of the wire. The sound proceeds from near the posts, where the vibration is apparently more rapid....

    • Stéphane Mallarmé 1842–1898
      (pp. 724-726)
      Stéphane Mallarmé
    • Laurence Sterne 1713–1768
      (pp. 726-727)
      Laurence Sterne

      The verbs auxiliary we are concerned in here, continued my father, are,am; was; have; had; do; did; make; made; suffer; shall; should; will; would; can; could; owe; ought; used;oris wont. — And these varied with tenses,present, past, future,andconjugatedwith the verbsee,—or with these questions added to them;—Is it? Was it? Will it be? Would it be? May it be? Might it be?And these again put negatively,Is it not? Was it not? Ought it not?—Or affirmatively,—It is; It was; It ought to be. Or chronologically,—Has it been...

      (pp. 727-731)
    • Sadakichi Hartmann 1867–1944
      (pp. 731-734)
      Sadakichi Hartmann

      Poetical license imagines that at Buddha’s entering Nirvana, a color revery takes place in the universe.

      This scene, a concert of self-radiant colors, is to be represented by pyrotechny brought by chemistry, electricity, and future light-producing sciences to such perfection and beauty that it becomes the new Optic Art, in which Color will rival Sound as a vehicle of pure emotion.

      Scene: Bluish-black darkness in space: a minute section of the universe, represented by a stage of at least 800 yards length and 500 yards height and depth.

      i. Out of darkness the earth, in the ban of the sun...

  10. A THIRD GALLERY: From Hopkins & Nietzsche to Yosamo & Apollinaire

    • Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844–1889
      (pp. 737-742)
      Gerard Manley Hopkins
    • Friedrich Nietzsche 1844–1900
      (pp. 743-752)
      Friedrich Nietzsche

      I call myself the last philosopher because I am the last human being. I myself am the only one who speaks with me, and my voice comes to me as the voice of someone who is dying. Let me commune with you for just one hour, beloved voice, with you, the last trace of the memory of all human happiness; with your help I will deceive myself about my loneliness and lie my way into community and love; for my heart refuses to believe that love is dead; it cannot bear the shudder of the loneliest loneliness and it forces...

    • Paul Verlaine 1844–1896
      (pp. 752-760)
      Paul Verlaine
    • Isidore Ducasse, comte de Lautréamont 1846–1870
      (pp. 760-768)
      Isidore Ducasse

      The poetic moans of this century are only sophisms.

      First principles must be above argument.

      I accept Euripides and Sophocles: but I do not accept Aeschylus.

      Do not display bad taste and a breach of the most basic proprieties towards the creator.

      Repel disbelief: you will give me pleasure.

      There are not two kinds of poetry; there is only one.

      There exists a far from tacit convention between author and reader, by which the former calls himself patient and accepts the latter as nurse. It is the poet who consoles mankind! The roles are arbitrarily reversed.

      I do not want...

    • José Martí 1853–1896
      (pp. 768-779)
      José Martí

      To write:The Supreme Moments:

      (of my life, of the Life of a Man: the little that is remembered, like the peaks of a mountain: the hours that count).

      The afternoon of Emerson.

      Ingratitude. (In jail, or learning of the departure of M’s family.)

      The mountaintop in Guatemala.

      Papa’s kiss, on leaving for Guatemala in the ship—and on coming back to Mexico, in Borell’s house.

      The afternoon in the amphitheater: (hands on the club’s balcony:) in Catskill.


      When they showed me Pepe, just born.

      The letter from Adriano Páez.

      Movement is contagious.

      Before assembling a collection of my...

    • Arthur Rimbaud 1854–1891
      (pp. 779-795)
      Arthur Rimbaud

      OmyGood! OmyBeautiful! Appalling fanfare where I do not falter! rack of enchantments! Hurrah for the wonderful work and for the marvelous body, for the first time! It began in the midst of children’s laughter, with their laughter will it end. This poison will remain in all our veins even when, the fanfare turning, we shall be given back to the old disharmony. O now may we, so worthy of these tortures! fervently take up the superhuman promise made to our created body and soul: that promise, that madness! Elegance, science, violence! They promised to bury in...

    • Jules Laforgue 1860–1887
      (pp. 795-805)
      Jules Laforgue

      • Prologue
        (pp. 806-807)

        The subversive gap in the nineteenth-century colonialist drive for control over non-European peoples appeared in the domain of culture, & particularly of poetry. That is, “orientalism” had a double inflection: the colonization of peoples mostly from the Middle East, North Africa, & India but also including China & the Far East, & the objectivizing of the exotic Other. Yet the sheer acknowledgment of the Other instilled a vision of what Victor Segalen, writing from the 1870s onward, called“le divers”& produced in readers the capacity to revel in these multiple differences. At the end of the eighteenth century the plethora of new information about...

      • William Blake 1757–1827
        (pp. 807-809)
        William Blake
      • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1749–1832
        (pp. 809-812)
        Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
      • George Gordon, Lord Byron 1788–1824
        (pp. 813-814)
        George Gordon
      • Victor Hugo 1802–1885
        (pp. 815-815)
        Victor Hugo
      • Ralph Waldo Emerson 1809–1882
        (pp. 816-816)
        Ralph Waldo Emerson
      • Walt Whitman 1819–1892
        (pp. 816-818)
        Walt Whitman
      • Charles Baudelaire 1821–1867
        (pp. 819-820)
        Charles Baudelaire

        There is a wonderful country, a country of Cockaigne, they say, which I dreamed of visiting with an old friend. It is a strange country, lost in the mists of our North, and one might call it the East of the West, the China of Europe, so freely does a warm and capricious fancy flourish there, and so patiently and persistently has that fancy illustrated it with a learned and delicate vegetation.

        A real country of Cockaigne, where everything is beautiful, rich, quiet, honest; where order is the likeness and the mirror of luxury; where life is fat, and sweet...

      • Victor Segalen 1878–1919
        (pp. 821-823)
        Victor Segalen

        Carry me on your adamantine waves, petrified sea, sea without tides; solid tempest locking the flight of clouds and hopes like flies in amber. And let me find the right characters in which to seal the full eminence of your beauty.

        My gaze preceding my steps on the sidling path aches to tame you. Your hide is rugged, your mantle of air is vast and falls straight from the cold sky. Behind the visible skyline, other peaks lift your passes higher. I know you double the length of the way one must conquer. You pile effort on effort as pilgrims...

    • Arno Holz 1863–1929
      (pp. 824-835)
      Arno Holz
    • José Asunción Silva 1865–1896
      (pp. 836-838)
      José Asunción Silva
    • Sigbjørn Obstfelder 1866–1900
      (pp. 838-844)
      Sigbjørn Obstfelder
    • Rubén Darío 1867–1916
      (pp. 844-853)
      Rubén Darío
    • Alfred Jarry 1873–1907
      (pp. 854-861)
      Alfred Jarry

      An epiphenomenon is that which is superinduced upon a phenomenon.

      Pataphysics, whose etymological spelling should be ἔπι (μετὰ τὰ φυσικά) and actual orthography’pataphysics,preceded by an apostrophe so as to avoid a simple pun, is the science of that which is superinduced upon metaphysics, whether within or beyond the latter’s limitations, extending as far beyond metaphysics as the latter extends beyond physics. Ex: an epiphenomenon being often accidental, pataphysics will be, above all, the science of the particular, despite the common opinion that the only science is that of the general. Pataphysics will examine the laws governing exceptions, and...

    • Gertrude Stein 1874–1946
      (pp. 861-868)
      Gertrude Stein

      Family living is being existing. There are very many knowing this thing, there are some completely knowing this thing.

      Everywhere something is done. Everywhere where that thing is done it is done by some one. Everywhere where the thing that is done by some one comes to be done it is done and done by some one. Certainly every where where something is done it is done and done by some one. Certainly some are doing something and it is done and done by each one of them.

      Certainly in a family living where something is done by some one...

    • Antonio Machado 1875–1939
      (pp. 868-874)
      Antonio Machado
    • Rainer Maria Rilke 1875–1926
      (pp. 874-878)
      Rainer Maria Rilke
    • Yosano Akiko 1878–1942
      (pp. 878-886)
      Yosano Akiko
    • Guillaume Apollinaire 1880–1918
      (pp. 886-892)
      Guillaume Apollinaire

    • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1749–1832
      (pp. 895-895)
      Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      If … a world literature develops in the near future—as appears inevitable with the ever-increasing ease of communication—we must expect no more and no less than what it can and in fact will accomplish.

      The world at large, no matter how vast it may be, is only an expanded homeland and will actually yield in interest no more than our native land. What appeals to the multitude will spread endlessly and, as we can already see now, will be well received in all parts of the world, while what is serious and truly substantial will be less successful....

    • William Blake 1757–1827
      (pp. 895-897)
      William Blake

      As a new heaven is begun, and it is now thirty-three years since its advent: the Eternal Hell revives. And lo! Swedenborg is the Angel sitting at the tomb; his writings are the linen clothes folded up. Now is the dominion of Edom, & the return of Adam into Paradise; see Isaiah xxxiv & xxxv Chap:

      Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence.

      From these contraries spring what the religious call Good & Evil. Good is the passive that obeys Reason. Evil is the active springing from Energy.

      Good is Heaven....

    • Friedrich Hölderlin 1770–1843
      (pp. 897-898)
      Friedrich Hölderlin
    • William Wordsworth 1770–1850
      (pp. 898-899)
      William Wordsworth

      It is the honourable characteristic of Poetry that its materials are to be found in every subject which can interest the human mind. The evidence of this fact is to be sought, not in the writings of Critics, but in those of Poets themselves.

      The majority of the following poems are to be considered as experiments. They were written chiefly with a view to ascertain how far the language of conversation in the middle and lower classes of society is adapted to the purposes of poetic pleasure. Readers accustomed to the gaudiness and inane phraseology of many modern writers, if...

    • Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772–1834
      (pp. 899-900)
      Samuel Taylor Coleridge

      No work of true genius dares want its appropriate form, neither indeed is there any danger of this. As it must not, so genius cannot, be lawless; for it is even this that constitutes its genius—the power of acting creatively under laws of its own origination. How then comes it that not only single “Zoili” [disparaging critics] but whole nations have combined in unhesitating condemnation of our great dramatist, as a sort of African nature, rich in beautiful monsters,—as a wild heath where islands of fertility look the greener from the surrounding waste, where the loveliest plants now...

    • Friedrich von Schlegel 1772–1829
      (pp. 900-902)
      Friedrich von Schlegel

      Romantic poetry is a progressive universal poetry. Its mission is not merely to reunite all separate genres of poetry and to put poetry in touch with philosophy and rhetorics. It will, and should, now mingle and now amalgamate poetry and prose, genius and criticism, the poetry of art and the poetry of nature, render poetry living and social, and life and society poetic, poetize wit, fill and saturate the forms of art with solid cultural material of every kind, and inspire them with vibrations of humor. It embraces everything poetic, from the greatest system of art which, in turn, includes...

    • Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792–1822
      (pp. 902-903)
      Percy Bysshe Shelley

      Even in modern times, no living poet ever arrived at the fulness of his fame; the jury which sits in judgment upon a poet, belonging as he does to all time, must be composed of his peers: it must be impanelled by Time from the selectest of the wise of many generations. A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.

      But poetry...

    • John Keats 1795–1821
      (pp. 904-905)
      John Keats

      My dear Woodhouse,

      Your Letter gave me a great satisfaction; more on account of its friendliness, than any relish of that matter in it which is accounted so acceptable in the “genus irritabile.” The best answer I can give you is in a clerk-like manner to make some observations on two princple points, which seem to point like indices into the midst of the whole pro and con, about genius, and views and achievements and ambition and cetera. 1stAs to the poetical Character itself (I mean that sort of which, if I am any thing, I am a Member;...

    • Heinrich Heine 1797–1856
      (pp. 905-906)
      Heinrich Heine

      As if under a triumphal arch of colossal masses of clouds, the sun drew upwards, victorious, cheerful, secure, auguring a lovely day. But for me it was like the poor moon, that still stood fading in the sky. It had wandered along its solitary path in the barren nighttime, when happiness slumbered and only ghosts, owls and sinners walked abroad; and now, as the young day climbed forth, with jubilant beams and shimmering dawn, now must it depart—just one wistful glance toward the great light of the world, and it disappeared like fragrant mist.

      “It will be a lovely...

    • Victor Hugo 1802–1885
      (pp. 906-907)
      Victor Hugo

      Behold, then, a new religion, a new society; upon this twofold foundation there must inevitably spring up a new poetry. Previously—we beg pardon for setting forth a result which the reader has probably already foreseen from what has been said above—previously, following therein the course pursued by the ancient polytheism and philosophy, the purely epic muse of the ancients had studied nature in only a single aspect, casting aside without pity almost everything in art which, in the world subjected to its imitation, had not relation to a certain type of beauty. A type which was magnificent at...

    • Ralph Waldo Emerson 1809–1882
      (pp. 907-908)
      Ralph Waldo Emerson

      By virtue of this science the poet is the Namer, or Language-maker, naming things sometimes after their appearance, sometimes after their essence, and giving to every one its own name and not another’s, thereby rejoicing the intellect, which delights in detachment or boundary. The poets made all the words, and therefore language is the archives of history, and, if we must say it, a sort of tomb of the muses. For though the origin of most of our words is forgotten, each word was at first a stroke of genius, and obtained currency because for the moment it symbolized the...

    • Walt Whitman 1819–1892
      (pp. 908-908)
      Walt Whitman

      This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you...

    • Charles Baudelaire 1821–1867
      (pp. 908-910)
      Charles Baudelaire

      Do you remember a picture (it really is a picture!), painted—or rather written—by the most powerful pen of our age [viz. Edgar Allan Poe], and entitledThe Man of the Crowd? In the window of a coffee-house there sits a convalescent, pleasurably absorbed in gazing at the crowd, and mingling, through the medium of thought, in the turmoil of thought that surrounds him. But lately returned from the valley of the shadow of death, he is rapturously breathing in all the odours and essences of life: as he has been on the brink of total oblivion, he remembers,...

    • Fyodor Dostoevsky 1821–1881
      (pp. 910-911)
      Fyodor Dostoevsky

      Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, but only to his friends. He has other matters in his mind which he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But there are other things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his mind. The more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in his mind. Anyway, I have only lately determined to remember some of my early adventures. Till now...

    • Emily Dickinson 1830–1886
      (pp. 912-912)
      Emily Dickinson

      July 1862

      Could you believe me–without? I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur–and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves–Would this do just as well?

      It often alarms Father–He says Death might occur, and he has Molds of all the rest–but has no Mold of me, but I noticed the Quick wore off those things, in a few days, and forestall the dishonor–You will think no caprice of me–

      You said “Dark.” I know the Butterfly-and...

    • Walter Pater 1839–1894
      (pp. 913-914)
      Walter Pater

      Philosophiren,says Novalis,ist dephlegmatisiren, vivificiren. The service of philosophy, of speculative culture, towards the human spirit, is to rouse, to startle it to a life of constant and eager observation. Every moment some form grows perfect in hand or face; some tone on the hills or the sea is choicer than the rest; some mood of passion or insight or intellectual excitement is irresistibly real and attractive to us,—for that moment only. Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end. A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated, dramatic life....

    • Stéphane Mallarmé 1842–1898
      (pp. 914-915)
      Stéphane Mallarmé

      Languages are imperfect because multiple; the supreme language is missing. Inasmuch as thought consists of writing without pen and paper, without whispering even, without the sound of the immortal Word, the diversity of languages on earth means that no one can utter words which would bear the miraculous stamp of Truth Herself Incarnate. This is clearly nature’s law—we stumble on it with a smile of resignation—to the effect that we have no sufficient reason for equating ourselves with God. But esthetically, I am disappointed when I consider how impossible it is for language to express things by means...

    • Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844–1889
      (pp. 915-916)
      Gerard Manley Hopkins

      Is all verse poetry or all poetry verse?—Depends on definitions of both. Poetry is speech framed for contemplation of the mind by the way of hearing or speech framed to be heard for its own sake and interest even over and above its interest of meaning. Some matter and meaning is essential to it but only as an element necessary to support and employ the shape which is contemplated for its own sake. (Poetry is in fact speech only employed to carry the inscape of speech for the inscape’s sake—and therefore the inscape must be dwelt on. Now...

    • Arthur Rimbaud 1854–1891
      (pp. 916-918)
      Arthur Rimbaud

      I have decided to give you an hour of new literature. I begin at once with a psalm of current interest.

      Poem enclosed:Paris War Song (Chant de Guerre Parisien).

      And now follows a discourse on the future of poetry:—

      All ancient poetry culminated in Greek poetry, harmonious Life. From Greece to the Romantic movement—Middle Ages—there are men of letters, versifiers. From Ennius to Theroldus, from Theroldus to Casimir Delavigne, nothing but rhymed prose, a game, fatty degeneration and glory of countless idiotic generations: Racine is the pure, the strong, the great man. Had his rhymes been effaced,...

    • Rainer Maria Rilke 1875–1926
      (pp. 918-918)
      Rainer Maria Rilke
    (pp. 919-925)
    (pp. 926-926)
    (pp. 927-928)