I'm still up in the air about poetry. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I really don't. I guess it just depends on the poetry. I did like that our book though warned us about the dangers of looking for too much meaning in the poems. That's a lot of the reason I don't like poetry, because people, either the poet or the critic, try to make it too deep. The book said that if you have to choose one or the other, it is better to only take the poem at face value, not understanding anything of it's metaphors and analogies, rather than over analyze.
I've got my first "midterms" this week. Which is just a way of saying big test here. Ugh, it bothers me so much when people say "We'll have 4 midterms in this class". So, we're going to have 4 tests all in the middle of the term are we? Because it's only a midterm if it... in the middle of the term! Go figure right? Blah, anyway, here's hoping my tests go well.
And so, now I leave you, with a poem we read in class today that I enjoyed.
A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
by John Donne
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"The breath goes now," and some say, "No,"
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of the earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we, by a love so much refined
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion.
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two:
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the other do;
And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like the other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.