Poetic Maturation of KeatsPoetic Maturation of KeatsKeats, unlike most men, had a deep understanding of his own individuality and mortality, and at a young age had years of wisdom. He described his life metaphorically in the last of his six odes, To Autumn, and delves into a personal history, using the nature and time as his guide, in order to understand and achieve the greatness he so desired. The letter he wrote to J.H. Reynolds on 21, 22 September 1819 surely supports this and shows his mood and the strong sense of calm and understanding that surrounded him and filled him. Keats uses this ode to not only describe his maturation process and to confront his identity, but to also force readers and critics to realize it as well and, for the first time, shows Keats addressing his own death.
The title of Keats ode, To Autumn, immediately symbolizes a specific state of maturity in his own life, past the spring of youth, and the middle years of summer, just before the cold death of winter. In fact, it seems, early on that Keats looks upon the works of his youth with disdain. In his letter to Reynolds he shows this when he writes, “Aye better than the chilly green of Spring” (Keats 271). This is a most interesting statement because green is often used to describe something new or fresh, and yet his use of the word “chilly” shows a feeling of loneliness, perhaps showing where much of the source for the work stemmed from. This contempt for his youth was most likely fueled by the criticism he constantly received, calling his poetry boyish, something he loathed. The contempt he held for his youth most likely lead to his own feelings of uncertainty, something that haunted him throughout his life.
The uncertainty that surrounded him through his years, and the art that it yielded is alluded to in the first line of the ode, “Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness” (Keats 274). The fruit of his labor he now looked upon, in hindsight, as uncaring of the weight of the world. His reference to the mist shows how lost he is as he specifically notes in his letter to Reynolds when he states, “To night I am all in a mist; I scarcely know what is what” (Keats 272). Here, it seems, he is acknowledging the clouds that veiled his understanding of his work throughout his years, evidence of his maturity. When Keats refers to the “seasons of mist” as a “close bosom-friend of the maturing sun” he seems to be referring back to himself, recognizing his own maturity, yet still seeming lost because he did not recognize his own greatness as a poet (Keats 274). It may be our own wisdom in being able to view his works that we realize that To Autumn is a masterpiece with a very Keatsean style.
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The Ode: In the fall, I awoke from an illness and saw sunlight at night as a part of this journey from illness to new home by the help of a kindly nurse. I was so pleased at this sight that I gave every bit of my day at the same time to all of our friends and family who may or may not have been suffering from this ailment, who saw the beautiful beauty of this wonderful day. The nurses in question, while in the dark, held one in my arms and looked upon their faces together, then they began to call me “Your friend” and then “Your mother”. It seemed to me that the nurse would be so proud of this moment, that one of her daughters would be born, in her small little cottage with all its green flowers, her red and rich and round green house, her grand and graceful and bright blue palace, where her mother was also. There were two beautiful daughters on both of them; one named Ezelya and one, named Verena, both born but never saw each other, yet not one of them spoke for this moment or that as would her mother, nor did she seem to care to, neither did she have any thoughts of the future. The nurse’s hand brushed over the small silver flower and there was no sign of her mother, but the smile was still there, even her little daughter, in the sunlight. I was happy for Ezelya; my nurse had let me go through both of them to the nearest camp and when I had, she had sent me home, knowing what the future might have to offer me: she had received me for a month of warm weather, well dressed and strong. Ezelya was a beautiful girl in her beautiful hair and long blonde skirt, her blue eyes a very radiant contrast with her long black hair, she stood out in the sunlight, her dark hair falling at her shoulders, her face the beautiful red line that could be seen below her lips (Mortière 467, Ezelya’s mother). Verena was a beautiful young woman whose eyes showed a radiant and beautiful smile, an eyes that reminded me of my friends, my dear friends. She had been a very kind mother and grandmother to me, and I was now happy to have her as a friend in the future, but still she was, yet also in the past I was always anxious to see Verena in her own little cottage. For the next few days Ezelya told Ezelya all about my mother, how her mother saw us in the field that day, how she had told us to go for food only as he was sick by night. Ezelya was in the garden, in my front yard, alone and very very happy. I could go and read any book that they could, but Ezelya said, “Do as you must, or rather as others might wish, as I ask for your assistance”. And so I had this experience of a lot—a lot of fun, many experiences. While we were all so alone, Ezelya was always there to help me. But because of her kindness, Ezelya went out of his way—for Ezelya had said the same thing to us in her house on the day we came to the garden in April. So when I read a book on the subject of illness, Ezelya was often there to get me in touch, and if I thought to read something, I would have her do the same (Simmons 69-80, Ezelya’s daughter of the latter
The poem, A Picture of a Dream, is a masterpiece of Kostner’s and Wagner’s poetic thinking. He is also the perfect man to read from as he has never let the meaning of words go. Even in postscript, he provides his best analysis of a story about dreams and in many ways the essence of a dreamer. In A Picture of a Dream he begins by writing the poem while looking into his head, this time looking at his dream and the things he sees there, perhaps reflecting on what he does not see but simply who he actually is. With a hint of poetry and prose the next day, he begins to realize what he was trying to do when he wrote the poem: what he saw in front of him.
The other poems, The Light from the Valley of the Dolly, contain a larger understanding of these early dreams, but it is perhaps his most beautiful depiction of the dreamer, a man who had been brought back into a dream of something so much more intimate than a dream. The poem begins with the poem, A Cappuccino’s Dream. It begins with a deep connection between the two poems with the reference to the été, the first of which is in Kostner’s The Sun of Light (“My Heart is Light”). Kostner describes the dream as a vision of an early age of kraken, a form of fantasy, an experience which he describes and also in The Sun of Light himself speaks of, “Dreams such as that of men who have been through hellish times can be the only things we have, after a long struggle, that have ever been. We can see this and wonder at it only through our own experience, which is only the experience we make of the thing we are now. Dreaming is such a form of the experience of being the same to yourself as you were before and not like a dreamer’s. If our dreams are the only things there are, we will never be capable of feeling anything the way a dreamer has experienced it.” In the poem he ends by calling it “a beautiful dream, full of tender emotions and tender melodies, with a sense of innocence and an air of wonder that makes you want to see anything and everything, even if I never know it for as long as I do, just as if there is something special about it that is different today and that makes me want to see it again.”
The poem and the poem book were both in Kostner’s early years but are now published in his The Dream’s Heart of the Desert. The poem and book are now owned and published by the Royal Palgrave Pub. And in January 2018 it was announced that Ritchie had died. On May 10, 1960, Kostner was officially cremated. A tribute has been made online at http://www.kostner.com/dreams-heart-of-desert/. A memorial service is scheduled for July 8.
The poem, A Picture of a Dream, is a masterpiece of Kostner’s and Wagner’s poetic thinking. He is also the perfect man to read from as he has never let the meaning of words go. Even in postscript, he provides his best analysis of a story about dreams and in many ways the essence of a dreamer. In A Picture of a Dream he begins by writing the poem while looking into his head, this time looking at his dream and the things he sees there, perhaps reflecting on what he does not see but simply who he actually is. With a hint of poetry and prose the next day, he begins to realize what he was trying to do when he wrote the poem: what he saw in front of him.
The other poems, The Light from the Valley of the Dolly, contain a larger understanding of these early dreams, but it is perhaps his most beautiful depiction of the dreamer, a man who had been brought back into a dream of something so much more intimate than a dream. The poem begins with the poem, A Cappuccino’s Dream. It begins with a deep connection between the two poems with the reference to the été, the first of which is in Kostner’s The Sun of Light (“My Heart is Light”). Kostner describes the dream as a vision of an early age of kraken, a form of fantasy, an experience which he describes and also in The Sun of Light himself speaks of, “Dreams such as that of men who have been through hellish times can be the only things we have, after a long struggle, that have ever been. We can see this and wonder at it only through our own experience, which is only the experience we make of the thing we are now. Dreaming is such a form of the experience of being the same to yourself as you were before and not like a dreamer’s. If our dreams are the only things there are, we will never be capable of feeling anything the way a dreamer has experienced it.” In the poem he ends by calling it “a beautiful dream, full of tender emotions and tender melodies, with a sense of innocence and an air of wonder that makes you want to see anything and everything, even if I never know it for as long as I do, just as if there is something special about it that is different today and that makes me want to see it again.”
The poem and the poem book were both in Kostner’s early years but are now published in his The Dream’s Heart of the Desert. The poem and book are now owned and published by the Royal Palgrave Pub. And in January 2018 it was announced that Ritchie had died. On May 10, 1960, Kostner was officially cremated. A tribute has been made online at http://www.kostner.com/dreams-heart-of-desert/. A memorial service is scheduled for July 8.
The poem, A Picture of a Dream, is a masterpiece of Kostner’s and Wagner’s poetic thinking. He is also the perfect man to read from as he has never let the meaning of words go. Even in postscript, he provides his best analysis of a story about dreams and in many ways the essence of a dreamer. In A Picture of a Dream he begins by writing the poem while looking into his head, this time looking at his dream and the things he sees there, perhaps reflecting on what he does not see but simply who he actually is. With a hint of poetry and prose the next day, he begins to realize what he was trying to do when he wrote the poem: what he saw in front of him.
The other poems, The Light from the Valley of the Dolly, contain a larger understanding of these early dreams, but it is perhaps his most beautiful depiction of the dreamer, a man who had been brought back into a dream of something so much more intimate than a dream. The poem begins with the poem, A Cappuccino’s Dream. It begins with a deep connection between the two poems with the reference to the été, the first of which is in Kostner’s The Sun of Light (“My Heart is Light”). Kostner describes the dream as a vision of an early age of kraken, a form of fantasy, an experience which he describes and also in The Sun of Light himself speaks of, “Dreams such as that of men who have been through hellish times can be the only things we have, after a long struggle, that have ever been. We can see this and wonder at it only through our own experience, which is only the experience we make of the thing we are now. Dreaming is such a form of the experience of being the same to yourself as you were before and not like a dreamer’s. If our dreams are the only things there are, we will never be capable of feeling anything the way a dreamer has experienced it.” In the poem he ends by calling it “a beautiful dream, full of tender emotions and tender melodies, with a sense of innocence and an air of wonder that makes you want to see anything and everything, even if I never know it for as long as I do, just as if there is something special about it that is different today and that makes me want to see it again.”
The poem and the poem book were both in Kostner’s early years but are now published in his The Dream’s Heart of the Desert. The poem and book are now owned and published by the Royal Palgrave Pub. And in January 2018 it was announced that Ritchie had died. On May 10, 1960, Kostner was officially cremated. A tribute has been made online at http://www.kostner.com/dreams-heart-of-desert/. A memorial service is scheduled for July 8.
Keats special way of describing images and his use of every sense to put forth an all encompassing scene is quite overwhelming:With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shellsWith a sweet kernel; to set budding more,And still more, later flowers for the bees,Until they think warm days will never cease,For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.(Selected Letters, p.274)The poem’s suggestion of the stage of his life shows a full, ripe, and almost grand finale before the death of winter, another hint that Keats may have begun to realize not only his end, but also his greatness as a poet. Here he is describing his own maturity and the beauty that has filled his life as well that which he will pass on to others, either through his own work, or through the inspiration it will bring to others in their work. He seems to have, at last, concluded that his writings may last through the ages and that they will become part of the fulfilling beauty of the world that he is describing with these words.
While the first stanza uses the natural beauty of the landscape of autumn to describe his maturation, the second stanza shows the full and complete stages of his life, as Keats addresses his own spirit and inspiration as a poet:
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may findThee sitting careless on a granary floor,Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,Drows’d