A.
DEFINITION OF POERY
1. Percy Bysshe Shelley
“Poetry is indeed something divine. It is at
once the centre and circumference of knowledge; it is that which comprehends
all science, and that to which all science must be referred. It is at the same
time the root and blossom of all other systems of thought; it is that from
which all spring, and that which adorns all; and that which, if blighted,
denies the fruit and the seed, and withholds from the barren world the
nourishment and the succession of the scions of the tree of life. It is the
perfect and consummate surface and bloom of all things; it is as the odor and
the color of the rose to the texture of the elements which compose it, as the
form and splendor of unfaded beauty to the secrets of anatomy and corruption.”
2.
Salvatore Quasimodo
“Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be
interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own.”
3.
T.S. Eliot
“Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion;
it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But,
of course, only those who have personality
and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.”
4.
William Wordsworth
“ Poetry
is
the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion
recollected in tranquillity: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of
reaction, the tranquillity gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to
that which was before the subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and
does itself actually exist in the mind.”
5.
Bahrul Fajrih
“ Poetry is the arrange of the word that make a sentence or phrase where
there is a beautifulness with rhyme in it.”
A. THE EXAMPLE OF
POETRY
Title : Because
I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain
We passed the Setting Sun
Or rather—He passed Us
The Dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my Gown
My Tippet—only Tulle
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground
The Roof was scarcely visible
The Cornice—in the Ground
Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain
We passed the Setting Sun
Or rather—He passed Us
The Dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my Gown
My Tippet—only Tulle
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground
The Roof was scarcely visible
The Cornice—in the Ground
Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity
Commentar :
The poetry exemplifies better than
anything else Dickinson wrote the special quality of her mind . If the word
great means anything in poetry, this poem is one of the greatest in the English
language; it is flawless to the last detail. The rhythm charges with movement
the pattern of suspended action back of the poem. Every image is precise and,
moreover, not merely beautiful, but inextricably fused with the central idea.
Every image extends and intensifies every other . No poet could have invented
the elements of this poem; only a great poet could have used them so perfectly.
She was a deep mind writing from
a deep culture, and when she came to poetry, she came infallibly.
