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Friday, April 26, 2013
Thomas Wyatt Hind analysis
The dead crab summary and analysis
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Break, break, break, By Alfred Lord Tennyson summary and analysis and Criticism
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad!
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill:
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
Lines 5-8
تكسّر .. تكسّر
إحدى قصائد تنيسون العديدة في رثاء صديقه ارثر هلام. ومن الغرابة أن يقال أنها لم تنظم على شاطئ البحر، ولكن في احدى طرق لنكولنشاير بين الأسيجة المزهرة المنورة.
تكسّر... تكسّر
تكسّر ! تكسّر!
على صخورك الباردة الشهباء
يا بحر تكسّرّ
لكم أتمنى لو يستطيع لساني أن ينطق فيقذف
ما فيّ من خواطرَ تنبعث
وأفكارٍ تجيش.
آه!
هنيئاً لابن الصيّاد
هرجه مع أخته وقت اللعب!
وهنيئاً لولد البحريّ
غناؤه وهو على القارب في الخليج،
والسفن الفخمة في طريقها
إلى الميناء تحت الرابية؛
ولكن واحسرتاه!
للمسةِ يدٍ زالتْ واختفت
ولرنّةِ صوتٍ سكَنَ وركد!
تكسّر، تكسّر!
على أقدام صخورك الوعرة
يا بحر تكسّر!
فالبهجة العذبة ليوم مضى ومات
لن ترجع لي!
لن تعود!
analysis
Summary
The speaker is looking at the ocean and wishing he knew how to express his grief. He sees a fisherman's kid hanging out with his sister, and he hears a sailor singing, but they don't cheer him up – they just remind him of the "voice that is still," or the voice of his dead friend that he can't talk to anymore. The ocean waves keep breaking on the beach, and time keeps marching on, but the speaker can't go back in time to when his friend was still alive.
Lines 1-4
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
- The speaker addresses the ocean directly, telling the waves to "break, break, break" onto the stony shore.
- After telling the sea to keep doing its thing, the speaker regrets that he can't express his thoughts.
- He doesn't come out and say, "I can't utter/ the thoughts," he says that his "tongue" can't "utter" them. This makes him seem kind of passive –he's not speaking, his "tongue" is doing it.
- He's not really thinking, either – the thoughts "arise in" him almost spontaneously, without effort.
O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
- The speaker thinks it's all well and good that the fisherman's kid is "shout[ing]" and "play[ing]" with his sister.
- Repeating the same sentence structure, the speaker says it's great for the sailor who is "sing[ing]" in his boat.
- The repetition makes it sound like maybe the speaker doesn't really think it's all well and good for these people to be cheerful. Is he jealous, perhaps, of their happiness? Or of their ability to communicate it, since he admitted back in Stanza 1 that his "tongue" can't "utter/ the thoughts that arise"?
Lines 9-12And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!
- The fancy, "stately ships" pass by the speaker and head to their "haven," or protected port.
- The port is "under the hill," so there must be a big hill overlooking it.
- The speaker isn't distracted by the ships, though. Sure, he notices them, but his mind is elsewhere.
- He's just wishing he could "touch" the "vanish'd hand" and hear "the voice that is still." This is the first explanation of why the speaker is so sad. He's grieving for someone he loved who is now dead.
- He doesn't come out and describe the dead friend, though – he just lists a series of missing things: the "hand" and the "voice." The lost friend is described as a series of absent parts.
Lines 13-16Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
- The speaker repeats the first line again, telling the waves to "break, break, break" again.
- But it's repetition with a difference: in the first stanza, he tells the waves to break "on thy cold gray stones," and in the last stanza, he tells the waves to break "at the foot of thy crags."
- It's not exactly the same – time has gone by, and even the breaking of the waves has changed slightly. Maybe it's the tide coming in.
- The waves have changed slightly, and we see that time is passing, despite the tragedy that the speaker has suffered. Mournfully he says that the happy old days when his friend was alive will never return
Analysis of the Poem
It is a nice poem by Tennyson, in which the moods, images and rhythms blend
perfectly. Note the heavy, melancholy feel of 'break, break, break',
contrasted with the lighter 'that he sings in his boat on the bay', and in
general the way the various moods of the sea are evoked, from dancing,
rippling waves and gentle swells, to the mealncholy, insistent breaking upon
a cold and lonely shore.
Criticism:
Great ages are fortunate which find the one voice that can turn to music
their otherwise mute beliefs and endeavors, their joy and pain. Such was
Chaucer for his time; such were Shakespeare and Spenser for theirs, Pope for
his, and preeminently Alfred, Lord Tennyson, for the time of
present disparagement of Tennyson is only our impatience with everything
Victorian; for his poetry peculiarly expresses the ideas and the enthusiasms
of the vast reading middle class of his day. He reasons like the middle-
-class liberal who keeps to the Christian faith and forms, at least in the
via media or middle course, with a mind open to the new difficulties rising
from the new science, and the prevailing evolutionary enthusiasm for
progress and some good time coming.
[..]
His poetry sings the virtues and enthusiasms of his day, domestic and
social, the patriotism, the humanitarian impulses, the utilitarian
prosperity, the fascination of death, the sombre religion or scepticism, and
the New Empire. At the same time he is nourishing and refining his age with
the beauty which it had lost, and which he shapes for its needs out of many
a corner of "the antique world." If he seems at times to be an aristocrat,
he is such with the middle-class conservatism and faith in the old English
order. He has as much of the body and fibre of English life in him as
Dickens--perhaps more--not its lusty humors so much as its peculiar and
irresistible charm mellowed by time.
[..]
He was first of all a careful, patient workman, and no man ever toiled
harder or more soberly to perfect himself in his craft. He kept it up all
his long life, revising and editing early poems, reading, observing,
travelling, scrutinizing the work of his many masters, inventing short
snatches and cadences which he saved for later use. With his minute care he
joined extraordinary range and variety--of metre, subject and material, and
final effect.
[..]
Like that otber great Alexandrian, Theocritus, Tennyson was essentially an
idyllist, a fashioner of small and highly finished pictures. Hundreds of
them are strewn from end to end of his work, from his Lady of Shalott, one
of the most idyllic, through his classical poems, his pageants of the Palace
of Art, and The Dream of Fair Women, his poems of English life, his
Princess, Maud, In Memoriam. Of this he seems to have been aware in his very
fondness for the word, "idyll"--"a small, sweet idyll," "English Idylls,"
and Idylls of the King.
[..]
But he has far greater gifts than fine minute craftsmanship. One is the
poet's supreme gift of making the language sing a new song, verse set to its
own indigenous tune, the gift of Burns, or Byron, and the Elizabethans. And
though it is usually peculiar to the youthful poet, it never wholly left
Tennyson from "Break, break, break" to Crossing the Bar.









