There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
A. E. HousmanRead
They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the universal nature of sorrow and the deeper emotional experiences expressed through poetry.
A. E. Housman's quote conveys that poetry often evokes feelings of sadness and sorrow that resonate not only with the poet but with humanity as a whole. The 'tears of eternity' suggest that human sadness is a timeless and universal condition, while the verse itself serves as a poignant reminder of the collective emotional experiences we share.
In practice
In a literary discussion about the emotional weight of poetry.
There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
I am not a pessimist but a pejorist (as George Eliot said she was not an optimist but a meliorist); and that philosophy is founded on my observation of the world, not on anything so trivial and irrelevant as personal history.
Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.
And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.
Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking_x000D_ _x000D_ Spins the heavy world around.
A man's rights rest in three boxes: the ballot box, the jury box, and the cartridge box.
A man only has a soul to be won or lost.
The devil is not as black as he is painted.
No social system will bring us happiness, health and prosperity unless it is inspired by something greater than materialism.
We should be wary of politicians who profess to follow history while only noticing those signposts of history that point in the direction which they themselves already favour.
God! how is it that we fail to recognize that the mask of pleasure, stripped of all hypocrisy, is that of anguish?
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