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11 paź 2017 · Nonetheless, many poets have written about the self, and their individual identity, as the following classic poems about selfhood demonstrate. 1. William Wordsworth, ‘ Tintern Abbey ’. And passing even into my purer mind. With tranquil restoration:—feelings too. Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence.
- T. S. Eliot’s Influential Essay ‘Tradition and The Individual Talent
A reading of Eliot’s classic essay by Dr Oliver Tearle...
- My Own Heart Let Me More Have Pity On
‘My own heart let me more have pity on; let / Me live to my...
- Seduction Poems
Donne wrote several great poems of seduction, so unusually...
- On a Columnar Self
‘On a Columnar Self’ by Emily Dickinson does something which...
- I Am
As Clare’s biographer Jonathan Bate points out, in his...
- Song of Myself
‘Song of Myself’ is perhaps the definitive achievement of...
- T. S. Eliot’s Influential Essay ‘Tradition and The Individual Talent
Explore the depths of introspection & personal growth with evocative poetry About Finding Yourself that illuminate the path identity, and inner transformation.
29 sty 2024 · Looking for some beautiful, comforting, yet inspirational words about death and dying? These poems about loss are perfect for funerals.
17 wrz 2014 · I write many death poems myself, I think it’s something that should be looked at in great depth. My favourite here has to be ‘The Guest House By Jelaluddin Rumi’ A very powerful poem that can be related to many different life paths.
Through their poignant verses, poets like Dylan Thomas, Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou, and Robert Louis Stevenson offer us a new perspective on mortality, encouraging us to live passionately, cherish our loved ones, and find solace in the face of death.
When we feel we have lost hope, we may find inspiration in the words and deeds of others. In this selection of poems, hope takes many forms: an open road, an unturned page, a map to another world, an ark, an infant, a long-lost glove that returns to its owner.
Dull to myself, and almost dead to these My many fresh and fragrant mistresses; The Dying Child. John Clare; He could not die when trees were green, For he loved the time too well
