The Romantic Written Word


When people find themselves texting family members in the same house, then it truly is a sign that civilization as we know it is on the decline.
So many young people embrace this modern technology, it will make your life better they say. Us old fogies, who can easily remember life before  technology, are beginning to question if lives have truly improved.  In many cases we can most definitely say yes. For instance, I would not  had been able to share this blog with the world 10 or 15 years ago. The world has become a smaller place, doorways of possibilities  we never would have dreamed of have opened up,  However,  in the advance of progress what are we giving up?


  One of the devices of modern technology I have promised not to own is one of the Electronic Readers. Now before everyone defends their use of the little book killers, I understand they do have great merit, but for myself, it is a statement of trying to keep to the old ways. The old ways of opening a book, of smelling the new book smell, or even better, that musty old  book smell! How often have your pressed flowers or small mementos into pages of those dear books, only several decades later, to fall out as you open the pages. A small pressed flower, that brings a smile, remembering a simple loving gesture, that would be impossible without a book.

Do you think the world's best loved poems would have had the same response if they conveyed in a text message? Lover's would read words of deep emotion to their beloved, words from the greatest poets, Shakespeare, Keats, Browning. I still remember from high school lines from my two favorite writers.

SONNET 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


 Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
        from Sonnets from the Portuguese
                              XLIII
    How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday's
    Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
    I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
    I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints,–I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!–and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.
 

Looking for something special this year that your love would remember? Put the box of chocolate back on the shelf and take the extra time to visit your local thrift or antique store and find an old hardback book of poetry.It must be hardback, paper back wouldn't do as I will explain. Purchase one long stem red rose. Before you wrap the book, find one or two poems that you enjoy, and pick a time to read those to her. When the rose is no loner fresh and beautiful-the two of you take it and press it between the pages of the book. Next year, find that page, read the poems as that rose will remind you of a very romantic Valentines' Day the year before.

1885 HC: PEARLS OF POETRY - Ilustrated - nice Victorian engravingsListing of Victorian Poetry on Ebay.



Who is your favorite poet. Share with us a line or two?





How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

  by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15384#sthash.OC1ujHKj.dpuf

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

  by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15384#sthash.OC1ujHKj.dpuf

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

  by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15384#sthash.OC1ujHKj.dpuf


How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

  by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15384#sthash.OC1ujHKj.dpuf




1 comment:

Tat said...

I have an ebook reader... I resisted for a long time, but I've given in. I still buy paper books. The books that I think I will read once and never come back to them, I read on my reader. Sometimes I buy an ebook, and then I get the paper copy.

That's such a romantic suggestion for Valentine's day!