Resuming the Memory Feed
March 8, 2008
As part of an effort at soul-salving, I am resuming my poetry memorizing routine. I’m just going to start with a new list, including some that I already know though I haven’t sat and recited them to myself for a long time. For me, memorizing is a way to burrow into and under the words. The poems I choose aren’t necessarily "great" in a canonical sense, they are the ones that grab my tongue and ears and won’t let go, sometimes obviously with a poem like Hopkins’ "Spring and Fall" and sometimes with more subtlety as in "Song" by Seamus Heaney. I don’t have a prodigious memory by any means, so I prefer shorter works where the language adds to my ability to recall, even if it’s not necessarily rhyming.
Up now is "Musée des Beaux Arts" — a poem I’ve always loved. Not sure what I’ll do next– suggestions?
Tags:
memorization, poetry, Psyche, soul
All me-stream all the time.
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March 8th, 2008 at 1:45 pm
That’s a grand idea; something I’ve been wanting to do myself for years (I think the last thing I memorized was Sweeney Among The Nightngales as a college senior). I may mirror your efforts with my own selection, though I’d love to hear about your progress as you go. Maybe culminating in a recite-off at WCET? hmm?
March 8th, 2008 at 9:20 pm
Hi, Chris. Musée des Beaux Arts has always been one of my favorites, and I think there are few more worthwhile things than committing good poetry to memory. I have an almost corny, but for me, meaningful, suggestion for future commitment–the last 9 lines of William Cullen Bryant’s “Thanatopsis.” “So live that when thy summons comes to join…” I had to memorize them in 8th grade English class. Like everything else I was ever required to memorize, I’ve never been able to purge it, and I think of it surprisingly often. Kes
March 9th, 2008 at 10:50 am
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.