Poem of the Day (February 2)

[Anonymous No.19854124]

What are your thoughts on this poem, /lit/?

The Oblation by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Yesterday's poem >>19848394

[Anonymous No.19854125]

>Algernon Charles Swinburne (5 April 1837 – 10 April 1909) was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He wrote several novels and collections of poetry such as Poems and Ballads, and contributed to the famous Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica.
>Swinburne wrote about many taboo topics, such as lesbianism, cannibalism, sado-masochism, and anti-theism. His poems have many common motifs, such as the ocean, time, and death. Several historical people are featured in his poems, such as Sappho ("Sapphics"), Anactoria ("Anactoria"), and Catullus ("To Catullus").
>Swinburne is considered a poet of the decadent school, although he perhaps professed to more vice than he actually indulged in to advertise his deviance – he spread a rumour that he had had sex with, then eaten, a monkey; Oscar Wilde stated that Swinburne was "a braggart in matters of vice, who had done everything he could to convince his fellow citizens of his homosexuality and bestiality without being in the slightest degree a homosexual or a bestialiser." Common gossip of the time reported that he had a deep crush on the explorer Sir Richard Francis Burton despite the fact that Swinburne hated travel.
>Many critics consider his mastery of vocabulary, rhyme and metre impressive, although he has also been criticised for his florid style and word choices that only fit the rhyme scheme rather than contributing to the meaning of the piece. He is the virtual star of the third volume of George Saintsbury's famous History of English Prosody, and A. E. Housman, a more measured and somewhat hostile critic, had great praise for his rhyming ability.

[Anonymous No.19854237]

Time turns the old days to derision,
Our loves into corpses or wives;
And marriage and death and division
Make barren our lives.

[Anonymous No.19854259]

Pale, beyond porch and portal,
Crowned with calm leaves, she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her
To men that mix and meet her
From many times and lands.

She waits for each and other,
She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
And flowers are put to scorn.

[Anonymous No.19854509]

>>19854124
Fantastic almost deconstruction of the form of poetry. Not from the outside looking in as modernists were later wont to do, but from the inside out. Despite the ostensible subject matter, this poem has for me this lurching, almost frenetic feel to it. The way Swinburne plays with and modulates and repeats and echoes himself is almost trancelike, as if sleepwalking over to the teetering, very edge of sanity and kind of looking over the precipice.

I'm actually really fucking taken with this. Thanks, OP, and please keep up with these threads. You have great taste.

[Anonymous No.19854520]

>>19854124
do u guys like the creation by james weldon johnson
i like it a lot

[Anonymous No.19855009]

swinburne seems great from what little I've read

[Anonymous No.19856180]

Meme rhymes

[Anonymous No.19856417]

>>19856180
kys

[Anonymous No.19856879]

I think I'd appreciate this sentiment better if it were expressed in prose. The rhymes here are far too trite and clipped for what is an almost sickeningly earnest expression.

[Anonymous No.19856890]

>>19854124
Tell me how i should feel about this poem. Is it good?

[Anonymous No.19856943]

>>19854124
OP PLEASE ANSWER
Where do you find these images? Do you make them? If so what font are you using? Or are these screencaps of a poetry dot com post or something? Or is there a better tool for making poetry screenshots? Thanks

[Anonymous No.19857320]

>>19856943
Merriweather