Sahyadri English Literature

POEM The Altar George Herbert (3 April 1593 – 1 March 1633) A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears, Made of a heart and cemented with tears; Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workman's tool hath touch'd the same. A HEART alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow'r doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame To praise thy name. That if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease. Oh, let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine, And sanctify this ALTAR to be thine. ANALYSIS Sacrifice and Offering in George Herbert’s The Altar    George Herbert’s poem The Altar is a religious poem which reflects deeply about the sacrifice, offerings to the God. Herbert’s poems examine the relationship between God and human beings again and again. The relationship between the two is connected with the rituals of consecration, sacrifice and offering.    The poem describes the altar where the sacrif

POEM If You Forget Me Pablo Neruda (12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973) I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, eac

POEM On a Drop of Dew Andrew Marvell (1621-1678) See how the orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn  Into the blowing roses, Yet careless of its mansion new, For the clear region where ’twas born  Round in itself incloses:  And in its little globe’s extent, Frames as it can its native element.  How it the purple flow’r does slight,   Scarce touching where it lies,  But gazing back upon the skies,   Shines with a mournful light,    Like its own tear, Because so long divided from the sphere.  Restless it rolls and unsecure,   Trembling lest it grow impure,  Till the warm sun pity its pain, And to the skies exhale it back again.   So the soul, that drop, that ray Of the clear fountain of eternal day, Could it within the human flow’r be seen,   Remembering still its former height,   Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green,   And recollecting its own light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater

POEM Two Loves I Have (Sonnet 144) William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616 Two loves I have of comfort and despair,  Which like two spirits do suggest me still  The better angel is a man right fair,  The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.  To win me soon to hell, my female evil  Tempteth my better angel from my side,  And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,  Wooing his purity with her foul pride.  And, whether that my angel be turn’d fiend,  Suspect I may, yet not directly tell,  But being both from me both to each friend,  I guess one angel in another’s hell.     Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,     Till my bad angel fire my good one out. ANALYSIS Between Love and Passion –Shakespeare’s Two Loves I Have    This is a beautiful poem written by one of the greatest poet William Shakespeare. In this poem he talks about two forms of love. One is the result of an angel (fair youth).It is the source of comfort. Another is the result of a d

POEM Poem Pablo Neruda (12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973) And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when, no they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouth had no way with names, my eyes were blind, and something started in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire, and I wrote the first faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open, planets, palpitating plantations, shadow perforated, riddled with arrows, fire and flowers, the winding night, the universe. And I,

POEM The Windows George Herbert (3 April 1593 – 1 March 1633) Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word?  He is a brittle crazy glass;  Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford  This glorious and transcendent place,  To be a window, through thy grace.  But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story,  Making thy life to shine within  The holy preachers, then the light and glory  More reverend grows, and more doth win;  Which else shows waterish, bleak, and thin.  Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one  When they combine and mingle, bring  A strong regard and awe; but speech alone  Doth vanish like a flaring thing,  And in the ear, not conscience, ring. ANALYSIS The Soul and the Window in Herbert’s The Windows    The poem The Windows was written by George Herbert(1593-1633).Herbert was an important metaphysical poet of 17th century. The present poem is a metaphysical poem with an innovative metaphoric representation.

POEM Telephone Conversation Akinwande Oluwole Babatunde Soyinka (born 13 July 1934) The price seemed reasonable, location Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived Off premises. Nothing remained But self-confession. 'Madam' , I warned, 'I hate a wasted journey - I am African.' Silence. Silenced transmission of pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came, Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was, foully. 'HOW DARK?'...I had not misheard....'ARE YOU LIGHT OR VERY DARK?' Button B. Button A. Stench Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak. Red booth. Red pillar-box. Red double-tiered Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed By ill-mannered silence, surrender Pushed dumbfoundment to beg simplification. Considerate she was, varying the emphasis- 'ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT' Revelation came 'You mean- like plain or milk chocolate?' Her accent was clinica

POEM Love after Love Sir Derek Alton Walcott (23 January 1930 – 17 March 2017) The time will come  when, with elation  you will greet yourself arriving  at your own door, in your own mirror  and each will smile at the other's welcome,  and say, sit here. Eat.  You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart  to itself, to the stranger who has loved you  all your life, whom you ignored  for another, who knows you by heart.  Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,  the photographs, the desperate notes,  peel your own image from the mirror.  Sit. Feast on your life. ANALYSIS From Self Love to Self Realization in Derek Walcott’s Love after Love    Derek Walcott was a Saint Lucian poet and a playwright. He received the Nobel prize for literature in 1992. Walcott is best known for his poetry, beginning with In a Green Night:Poems. Walcott’s best known poem is “Dream o

POEM Once Upon A Time Gabriel Imomotimi Okara (born 24 April 1921) Once upon a time, son, they used to laugh with their hearts and laugh with their eyes: but now they only laugh with their teeth, while their ice-block-cold eyes search behind my shadow. There was a time indeed they used to shake hands with their hearts: but that’s gone, son. Now they shake hands without hearts while their left hands search my empty pockets. ‘Feel at home!’ ‘Come again’: they say, and when I come again and feel at home, once, twice, there will be no thrice- for then I find doors shut on me. So I have learned many things, son. I have learned to wear many faces like dresses – homeface, officeface, streetface, hostface, cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles like a fixed portrait smile. And I have learned too to laugh with only my teeth and shake hands without my heart. I have also learned to say,’Goodbye’, when I me