You are inscrutible Anum. “For that fel sargent death is swift in his arrest” but, perhaps Hamlet was happier dead given his tortured conscience (should he, shouldn’t he) avenge the death of his father by murdering his uncle Claudius. I am also reminded, by your poem of Keat’s beautiful Ode To A Nightingale, “to cease on midnight with no pain. Thus does it seem rich to die when thou art pouring forth your song” (sorry I am quoting from memory so this may be rather off beam, Kevin
I agree absolutely. Ode To A Nightingale is one of those poems to which I return again and again. It brings tears to my eyes. I can not express adequately the emotions it produces in me but the most profound things in life are, after all beyond words.
You are inscrutible Anum. “For that fel sargent death is swift in his arrest” but, perhaps Hamlet was happier dead given his tortured conscience (should he, shouldn’t he) avenge the death of his father by murdering his uncle Claudius. I am also reminded, by your poem of Keat’s beautiful Ode To A Nightingale, “to cease on midnight with no pain. Thus does it seem rich to die when thou art pouring forth your song” (sorry I am quoting from memory so this may be rather off beam, Kevin
I incline more towards Keat’s view here. However, you may interpret it anyway you want. 🙂
I agree absolutely. Ode To A Nightingale is one of those poems to which I return again and again. It brings tears to my eyes. I can not express adequately the emotions it produces in me but the most profound things in life are, after all beyond words.
Indeed