Warm Summer Sun by Mark Twain

Warm Summer Sun
by Mark Twain
Warm summer sun, Shine kindly here, Warm southern wind, Blow softly here. Green sod above, Lie light, lie light. Good night, dear heart, Good night, good night.               Mark Twain is best known for his wit and use of satire, however this poem exhibits his ability to channel genuine contentment into verse. Gut-busting humor, caustic social messages,  and the like tend to lend heavily to amusement and change, but poetry's  ability to preserve a moment of happiness cannot be neglected.  Poetry can take on the form of a time capsule,allowing memories to be  revisited and embraced long after fleeting days have slipped  away, allowing us to put time in a bottle as Jim Croce sang. Everyone  could use something to brighten their day, and Warm Summer Sun does just that.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 

 

  This poem, one of the most famous in the world, seems to have an eerily pertinent message.  Having traveled around the globe, living in different countries, visiting places across America and Asia, I am uniquely disturbed by the apathy with which so many treat priceless moments such as the one Frost illustrates here.  With transportation and communication linking the entire globe, the tranquil contentment found in a simple vision of falling snow in the woods, rain falling on plains, or fog drifting through the mountains is becoming endangered.  The bustle of modern life leaves little room for such luxuries, and necessity dictates that we rush to meet the looming deadlines which tower over us.  I have seen the opposite end of the spectrum, however, while staying at my great-grandfather's home in the Great Smoky Mountains.  Icicles glittering along the sheer cliffs, warm colored leaves blanketing the undergrowth, all remind me of the innately captivating essence of nature.  Society cannot afford to miss moments like these.  So the next time you find yourself gazing out the car window deep in the country, take it in.  Hold it in your mind, use it as the habitation of your thoughts.  Otherwise you might go without a pure, unparalleled joy that all should experience.  

The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary

     Depression is becoming overwhelmed by negative emotions or feelings, allowing them to blanket the sky and hide the all that is light from view.  This creates a whirlpool, drawing people into the bottom of the metaphorical sea, and into the abyss below.  Even the memories of the green years of youth turn into an ever tangible reminder of the disparity between it and the present.  These lines comprising Longfellow's poem show these facets of mental and emotional exhaustion.  With a withering wind biting at the last emaciated vine growing along the wall (the narrator's thoughts growing along the past), the more beneficent passions of life are being eroded. All early ambitions seem to be extinguished by the hazards of such endeavors, leaving a disheartened being.  However, the motif of a spirit void of joy is broken by the final lines of the poem. Showing true strength the plagued narrator fights on, and resolves to break through the grip of the dreary, as soon as the appointed time has passed.  Overall I believe this is an excellent poem which shows the power of spirit to mend frays and continue to cloth the humanity of humans.

Review of "Eldorado" by Edgar Allen Poe

Eldorado is a brief poem by Edgar Allen Poe which follows a knight on a journey to the legendary golden city.  Much like those who search for the fountain of youth, the tree of life, and other such mythical places the knight is met with an impossible task.  As he searches and searches his energy is sapped by his ambition.  He ages rapidly, experiencing life as a lustful search for that miracle on Earth.  As he begins to realize his folly, he starts to lose his momentum, despairing that he will never find city, when he happens upon a shade.  When asked were Eldorado may be found the being answers "Over the Mountains Of the Moon, down the Valley of the Shadow", instructing the knight to ride on if he wishes to find the fable of South America.  This poem does an excellent job of illustrating the futility of endeavors that ask one to devote a lifetime to a faint glimmer of hope that promises untold riches or immortality, and is one of my personal favorites.