When you get old...

We read a poem in class that really made me think. So I will post it for you guys here and hopefully someone will reply. Anyway I owe everyone a story I know but I have been swamped and my back is in agony. I feel old LOL. anyway here is the poem I hope you enjoy. Until next time remember my motto and #1 rule to live your life by.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Carpe Diem,
Silas Marner

Silas Marner and Artist Objectification

This week in class one topic we talked about was objectification in art. We read a poem and answered some questions about it. I am going to post the same poem and see what you have to say about it. So to start here is the poem.

One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
A saint, an angel — every canvas means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

So, what do you think this poem is about as a whole? How is this poem about objectification? Finally, do you think that artistic rendering naturally leads to objectification? Hopefully someone will post their opinion on this topic. Below I will tell you what I thought and maybe it will give you some ideas.

I think this poem is about an artist who painted a woman who was young and beautiful, the woman of his dreams. It is about objectification because it seems like the woman is no longer young and beautiful in real life only in his dreams. They seemed to like each other when he was painting her, but as she grew older she lost a little of her beauty he lost interest. He was not the type of man to wait or have sorrow. So he stopped seeing her and painting her, and left remembering her as she was not as she is. I do not think artistic rendering naturally leads to objectification. I think it is a fine line an artist must be cautious to avoid and be ever vigilant not to cross it. Because once they do cross the line into objectification, then it becomes a habit of sorts, and is hard to cross back over to the other side.

Anyway there is the poem and the questions, as well as what I thought of the poem and the answers to the questions. Feel free to post anything you want. If you want to answer the questions great, if not that is okay. The point is you can post anything you want whether it is about the poem or not. I hope to see some replies next time I log on here. On a side note I know I promised to tell the story about my accident and back injury, but I have been in a ton of pain this week and cannot sit and type for very long. So, hopefully next week I will feel better and can post my story.

Until then, remember my life motto and my #1 rule to live by. Until next time remember those and have a great week.

Carpe diem,
Silas Marner

A small post on the Victorian Age by Silas

This week in class we covered authors from the Victorian era. I had a picture and thought process in my mind when I heard the word Victorian or thought about that time period. However, I found out that the Victorian era was really the 2nd English Renaissance. There were huge leaps and accomplishments in every aspect of academics and human life in general. I just wanted to let everyone know that they might be thinking about the Victorian era all wrong, just like I used to. I am going to post a poem from class this week, and then sign off. I know I still owe everyone the story about my back injury, but I just do not have the time right now. Here is Mathew Arnold's "The Forsaken Merman."

COME, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below.
Now my brothers call from the bay;
Now the great winds shoreward blow;
Now the salt tides seaward flow;	5
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away.
This way, this way!
Call her once before you go.	10
Call once yet.
In a voice that she will know:
'Margaret! Margaret!'
Children's voices should be dear
(Call once more) to a mother's ear;	15
Children's voices, wild with pain.
Surely she will come again.
Call her once and come away.
This way, this way!
'Mother dear, we cannot stay.'	20
The wild white horses foam and fret.
Margaret! Margaret!
Come, dear children, come away down.
Call no more.
One last look at the white-wall'd town,	25
And the little grey church on the windy shore.
Then come down.
She will not come though you call all day.
Come away, come away.
Children dear, was it yesterday	30
We heard the sweet bells over the bay?
In the caverns where we lay,
Through the surf and through the swell,
The far-off sound of a silver bell?
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,	35
Where the winds are all asleep;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam;
Where the salt weed sways in the stream;
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;	40
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail, and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye?	45
When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once) that she went away?
Once she sate with you and me,	50
On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,
And the youngest sate on her knee.
She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well,
When down swung the sound of the far-off bell.
She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea.	55
She said, 'I must go, for my kinsfolk pray
In the little grey church on the shore to-day.
'Twill be Easter-time in the world—ah me!
And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee.'
I said, 'Go up, dear heart, through the waves.	60
Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves.'
She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, were we long alone?
'The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.	65
Long prayers,' I said, 'in the world they say.
Come,' I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay.
We went up the beach, by the sandy down
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town.
Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,	70
To the little grey church on the windy hill.
From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,
But we stood without in the cold-blowing airs.
We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,
And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.	75
She sate by the pillar; we saw her dear:
'Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here.
Dear heart,' I said, 'we are long alone.
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.'
But, ah! she gave me never a look,	80
For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book.
Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Came away, children, call no more.
Come away, come down, call no more.
Down, down, down;	85
Down to the depths of the sea.
She sits at her wheel in the humming town,
Singing most joyfully.
Hark what she sings: 'O joy, O joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy.	90
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well.
For the wheel where I spun,
And the blessèd light of the sun.'
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,	95
Till the shuttle falls from her hand,
And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand;
And over the sand at the sea;
And her eyes are set in a stare;	100
And anon there breaks a sigh,
And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,
A long, long sigh	105
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,
And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away, children.
Come children, come down.
The hoarse wind blows colder;	110
Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.	115
We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl.
Singing, 'Here came a mortal,	120
But faithless was she:
And alone dwell for ever
The kings of the sea.'
But, children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow;	125
When clear falls the moonlight;
When spring-tides are low:
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starr'd with broom;
And high rocks throw mildly	130
On the blanch'd sands a gloom:
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie;
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.	135
We will gaze, from the sand-hills,
At the white, sleeping town;
At the church on the hill-side—
And then come back down.
Singing, 'There dwells a loved one,	140
But cruel is she.
She left lonely for ever
The kings of the sea.' So that is a little taste of Victorian poetry, if anyone has any thoughts feel free to post them. I have my own interpretation of the poem, but I would like to hear yours. If I don't see any posts soon I will tell you what I think in a few days. Anyway, until then remember my motto and #1 rule to live by.   Carpe diem, Silas Marner  

"Frankenstein" Through the Eyes of Silas

Well we had to read Frankenstein in class this week and let me tell you, I was pleasantly surprised. I had never actually read the book or seen the movie but I thought I had an idea of what the story was about. Boy was I wrong! This isn't about a crazy mad scientist who creates this big green monster, who gets loose and causes destruction in the local town, then gets chased back up to the castle where he was created and both the scientist and the monster are killed by villagers with fire and pitchforks. I will not spoil the story for you, but if you have that image in your head, or one that is similar, I highly recommend you read the book. To me this story really kind of boils down to a love story. I don't mean a simple love story between a man and woman, but a love story about companionship, love, knowledge, family, and life. This was an amazing book and I highly recommend that anyone who has not read it needs to read it. Anyway, I just wanted to post something small and tell you about the book and revelation I had after reading it. I know I promised last week to tell everyone about my injury and the story behind my back injury and continued pain and problems in that area. But that will have to wait until next week when I am not so busy. Anyway I hope everyone is doing well and I am still waiting for my first comment. If anyone actually reads this. But if anyone does feel free to post and I will say something about it. As always I leave you saying remember my motto and my #1 rule in life that always needs to be followed. Hope all is well and everyone has a great week.

P.S. If you do not know my motto or my #1 life rule look at previous posts or I will post them again next time I write.

Carpe Diem,
Silas Marner