When you are old (WBYeats)

[Steven]

Red Poppy,

Sometimes, it should or should not matter. There is a cross contextualization of
feelings between creative output and other stuff we know about artists (that
may or may not be part of their poems or other vehicles of expression). Repressive
regimes have recognized this and have made public relations hay out of
cultural tours. But, it is a shame to not take value from art because of less
savory aspects of the artists. It's a balancing act that individuals have to make
for themselves. More aware, conscious people, may be more perceptive of at least
some of the implications that the issue holds for them. More awareness, though,
does not make someone necessarily less vulnerable to the taint of influence that
spillover knowledge about the artists may have. Good question, Red Poppy.

[mat james]

I remember reading that Poe believed that unrequited love was the most potent theme/thrust for the poet (Hence, his " Raven").
It seems Yeats suffered as Poe suffered. The object of his love went elsewhere.
One of our Australian poets, Henry Lawson also wrote a similarly beautiful poem titled, “Do you think that I do not know”
(http://members.ozemail.com.au/~natinfo@ ... otknow.htm)
Sometimes the lover turns to another, sometimes the lover dies. Yeats seems to have suffered the first fate, and, Maud and Henry the second.
Either way it’s steeped in melancholy.
Such pain and such beauty, in synthesis.
Physical pain engenders little beauty, yet emotional pain does.

What is your take on this?
And who was suffering more, Maud or William B? (probably a silly question but I'll leave it anyway)

Matj

[blonde madonna]

I remember reading that Poe believed that unrequited love was the most potent theme/thrust for the poet (Hence, his " Raven").

Mat, I know Hot Chocolate would never qualify as poetry but it is what came into my head when I read this, forgive me. The 80's song 'It started with a kiss' (Paul Kelly has done a more recent cover of it). IMO there are no more anguished words ever sung than "you don't remember me do you?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NosS1rpJ7tU

[Joney]

Both Maud and WB married others. However the story turns a bit creepy when WB went after Maud's daughter. Unfortunately for me Mr Lawson's poem is ruined a bit when he asks if others would have felt his pain / love, it seems a bit conceited of him to think that others wouldn't have such deep feelings.

The old unrequited love, yes, so bittersweet.

Great band Hot Chocolate. The line "you don't remember me do you" is sad, obviously the love affair meant a lot less to her.

This thread may have turned full circle. Maybe Hot Chocolate's "You Sexy Thing" could be the perfect Shag Song.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=JYTJPp3xap4

[Joney]

Just realised, wrong topic, Shag song is another topic. Hard work this forum business.

[lizzytysh]

Red Poppy said:

You don't need to be a Rhodes scholar or a historian to have an opinion.

This is good news.


~ Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

Don'tcha just hate it when that happens, Joney .

This thread may have turned full circle. Maybe Hot Chocolate's "You Sexy Thing" could be the perfect Shag Song.

Maybe this is what Yeats really had in mind when he wrote to Maud .


~ Lizzy

[Birdonawire]

To be honest, im not sure it really matters what the background or political leanings of any artist is. The first Leonard Cohen album I ever heard was Songs From A Room. I hadn't a clue who Len was or had any idea as to his background. I just knew I was instantly hooked on his words. I still am.

I like Yeats, Love Sinatra, and every time I read Kavagnagh i feel I have to go and wash the mud from my hands, his imagery is simply that good. What really colours/influences a persons take on any piece of art is their own life experiences. It is through your own eyes you look. From your own mind. From your own soul.

[lizzytysh]

I was going to quote for commenting something you said, Eric; but, then, I kept moving my cursor further out to include more. I realized then that I was going to end up quoting the whole thing, anyway, so why quote any of it at all. Simply said, I agree with you.

I had no idea 'who' Leonard was when I first heard his initial album, and it took me years to find out anything... and I loved his words and songs from the moment I heard them. There are still huge areas of 'who' 'Leonard' is that I and others know nothing about, and he seems to want to keep it that way.

My knowledge and reading of Yeats are limited, but what I'm reading I like a lot. I've always loved what Frank Sinatra did with a song and I remember his huge, televised, birthday celebration. Your comment on Kavanagh really sparks interest .

What really colours/influences a persons take on any piece of art is their own life experiences. It is through your own eyes you look. From your own mind. From your own soul.
To be honest, im not sure it really matters what the background or political leanings of any artist is. The first Leonard Cohen album I ever heard was Songs From A Room. I hadn't a clue who Len was or had any idea as to his background. I just knew I was instantly hooked on his words. I still am.

What really colours/influences a persons take on any piece of art is their own life experiences. It is through your own eyes you look. From your own mind. From your own soul.

This I just felt I had no choice but to quote; it's so worth repeating.


~ Lizzy

[mat james]

Joney,

it seems a bit conceited of him to think that others wouldn't have such deep feelings.

Just for the record:
I'll include some history on the poem for you to put his poem in context.
Henry was a regularly published poet in the news papers of the time and his theme was the "bush", usually. He wrote many poems about the pain people experienced and many others about the characters he had met. But what he never wrote about was "Love".
He was publicly criticised for this in the papers.
This poem was a response to their criticisms, and therefore the repeated line, "Do you think that I do not know?"

(Henry was borne on the goldfields and always had the hard life of country poeple in the back of his mind yet he saw and loved their tough humour. His poetry is a bit rough around the edges at times, according to some experts, but his feelings run deep and his heart is pure platinum! and he is probably Australias favourite poet). He certainly bleeds with the injured and celebrates their dry resilience. He hit the bottle hard throughout his life and in the end it killed him.)

Regards, Matj

[lizzytysh]

Do You Think That I Do Not Know?

Henry Lawson
1910

They say that I never have written of love,
As a writer of songs should do;
They say that I never could touch the strings
With a touch that is firm and true;
They say I know nothing of women and men
In the fields where Love's roses grow,
And they say I must write with a halting pen
Do you think that I do not know?

When the love-burst came, like an English Spring,
In days when our hair was brown,
And the hem of her skirt was a sacred thing
And her hair was an angel's crown.
The shock when another man touched her arm,
Where the dancers sat round in a row;
The hope and despair, and the false alarm
Do you think that I do not know?

By the arbour lights on the western farms,
You remember the question put,
While you held her warm in your quivering arms
And you trembled from head to foot.
The electric shock from her finger tips,
And the murmuring answer low,
The soft, shy yielding of warm red lips
Do you think that I do not know?

She was buried at Brighton, where Gordon sleeps,
When I was a world away;
And the sad old garden its secret keeps,
For nobody knows to-day.
She left a message for me to read,
Where the wild wide oceans flow;
Do you know how the heart of a man can bleed
Do you think that I do not know?

I stood by the grave where the dead girl lies,
When the sunlit scenes were fair,
And the white clouds high in the autumn skies,
And I answered the message there.
But the haunting words of the dead to me
Shall go wherever I go.
She lives in the Marriage that Might Have Been
Do you think that I do not know?

They sneer or scoff, and they pray or groan,
And the false friend plays his part.
Do you think that the blackguard who drinks alone
Knows aught of a pure girl's heart?
Knows aught of the first pure love of a boy
With his warm young blood aglow,
Knows aught of the thrill of the world-old joy
Do you think that I do not know?

They say that I never have written of love,
They say that my heart is such
That finer feelings are far above;
But a writer may know too much.
There are darkest depths in the brightest nights,
When the clustering stars hang low;
There are things it would break his strong heart to write
Do you think that I do not know?

Hi Joney and Mat ~

If it hadn't been for your response, Mat, to Joney's comment, I'd have missed this whole, very impacting poem. I wondered what in the world you [both] were talking about until I looked back and finally found his name in your posting, Mat, with the link. I hadn't followed it before because I didn't have time to read what I thought was an article on Lawson [hence, the link, instead of the poem itself, with the being the Other Poetry section]. Then, I ended up forgetting about it altogether. Now, since this is the Other Poetry section, I brought the whole thing right on out here, just in case, so others don't miss it.

At least in this poem, he dwelt in the tender subtleties. It's a heartbreaking story and it must have really hurt when people criticized him for not writing about Love. There are many lines here that move me, the feeling of loss is so heavy throughout it. I don't see the conceit, but see tons of frustration. The problem with that is that I read it after reading your explanation of the scenario surrounding it, and I've tried to go back and see if I might have felt as Joney did, but now I can't seem to remove my knowledge and read it as though I've first come across it. In trying to read it from that 'fresh' perspective, though, it seems to me that his questioning is rhetorical to underscore that, "Just because I haven't said, doesn't mean I don't know. So, here are the details to let you know I do." I think I'd have gotten that same thing, the [literal] initial encounter with it, but...

Thanks for indirectly posting it, Mat. I hope you don't mind that I brought it out in full view.


~ Lizzy

[Joney]

I've re-read the poem and realised my mistake. When he says

Do you think that the blackguard who drinks alone
Knows aught of a pure girl's heart?

I didn't realise that he was talking about himself, I thought he was talking about others.

My mistake, that changes the poem completely for me.

Apologies, I misinterpreted the poem. He wasn't conceited. Teach me to jump in with both feet without thinking (I'm still working on this).

Regards
Joney

[lizzytysh]

Hi Joney ~

I'm glad you got that sorted . When I first read that line, my initial impression was him as an onlooker, but then with the following line [as well as my knowledge, via Mat, of how he took to drinking], I realized it was still him talking about how other people are looking at him.

It's a very moving poem, isn't it.


~ Lizzy

[Joney]

It is a very moving poem.

He wrote many poems about the pain people experienced and many others about the characters he had met. But what he never wrote about was "Love".
He was publicly criticised for this in the papers.
This poem was a response to their criticisms

How awful that he was criticised for not writing a love poem. Good grief. Still I suppose some good came out of it.

[lizzytysh]

This beautiful, heartwrenching poem came of it. He also got some serious pain out of himself and on to paper, at least for awhile.


~ Lizzy