Poets' Corner - Part I

[Zulfiya]

During the month of hassles and crowds, we decided to infuse it with the spirit of poetry. Because of the zeitgeist of December - shopping, wrapping, family obligations, cold, snow, and etc., we are usually very unlikely to start anything massive or Dickensian. Thus, we are rejuvenating our poetry project and are going to post most influential poems, and we also cherish hope that you will enjoy the idea of an elegant short read and hopefully an entailing enthusiastic discussion.

Meanwhile, we might consider infusing some fresh blood into our group, but we are still very firm on the Dickens project that will return back on January 03 with Little Dorrit.

Today, I am posting the poem by Robert Browning


Memorabilia BY ROBERT BROWNING
I.
Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,
And did he stop and speak to you?
And did you speak to him again?
How strange it seems, and new?

II.
But you were living before that,
And you are living after,
And the memory I started at -
My starting moves your laughter.

III.
I crossed a moor with a name of its own
And a certain use in the world no doubt,
Yet a hand's-breath of it shines alone
'Mid the blank miles round about -

IV. For there I picked up on the heather
And there I put inside my breast
A moulded feather, an eagle-feather -
Well, I forget the rest.



Questions.
Do you cherish your memories?
Do they 'spice up' our lives on a dreary day?
Are they a worthy theme in poetry?
Is poetry per se memorabilia of sorts?

[Emma]

This seems to be about how personal and individual memories are. Given the same event, two participants might write quite different poems about their memories of it - so memories can't be shared, exactly, but the idiosyncratic experience of memory can. I think.

[Renee]

I love that it was such a meaningful moment that browning just had to mention it; write a poem about it. The import of the detail that it was an eagle feather, but he forgets the rest. That's so true to experience. The snapshot quality of memory.

[Silver]

Thank you for setting this up. I love Browning's work but I have yet to read this one of his. I think this was a great choice for December. The holiday season is one of which I believe invokes many memories.

I particularly enjoyed the last stanza

IV. For there I picked up on the heather
And there I put inside my breast
A moulded feather, an eagle-feather -
Well, I forget the rest.

I really relate to the idea of collecting tokens in which to remember certain people or events, saving things which are symbolic of personal experiences.

I also appreciate the ironic humor in the last line of the poem being "I forget"

Is poetry per se memorabilia of sorts

This is an interesting question. I think that in a way poetry can be seen as a form of memorabilia. A lot of poems are about capturing these private personal moments, and maybe also a way of wanting to remember or of delving into the past and drawing upon old memories and feelings.

[Everyman]

Silver wrote: "I think that in a way poetry can be seen as a form of memorabilia. A lot of poems are about capturing these private personal moments, and maybe also a way of wanting to remember or of delving into the past and drawing upon old memories and feelings. "

Most definitely. Wordsworth does this all the time. Tintern Abbey is basically nothing but remembrance memorabilia. So are his Lucy poems. So, to a very significant extent, is the Prelude. Indeed, as I think about it, I am tempted to say that the majority of his work can easily be considered memorabilia.