.

Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Music in Nature Essay

medicamentWhen medication sounds, gone is the earth I know,And all her lovely things even lovelier growHer flowers in vision flame, her forest treesLift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.When melody sounds, out of the water riseNaiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes,Rapt in strange dreams pricks each enchanted face,With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.When music sounds, all that I was I amEre to this haunt of Brooding form I cameAnd from whiles woods break into distant formThe swift-winged hours, as I cause along.In the first stanza, Music renders nature beyond flowers into vision flame, trees that Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies. The word stilled could wet instilled which has some motion, and is shortened to stilled to accommodate the rhythm. Or it could mean stilled, as in held in suspension.The second stanza, mythical Naiads, a type of nymph who presided everyplace fountains, wells, springs, streams, and brooks, argon evoked by musics s ounds. But they are Rapt in strange dreams. Burns each enchanted face. is a suggestive image. A Flushed face looks like it is burning. Women may kicking when embarrassed, perhaps, in de la Mares time, from the stimulation being in the company of a man she desires. But her echoing, which implies reflection, and could extend to a reflection of our own feelings, is solemn. Sad, perhaps unrequited, longing and desire burn in her strange dreams and show on her enchanted face.The third stanza literally refers to the author, but also the reader. Music exposes the very spirit of our-self, all that I was before I came to this body (haunt of brooding dust), I now am, understanding through the reflection of the music our ex-corporeal selves. From Times woods, from eternitys history, including all past and in store(predicate) human emotions, swift-winged hours break into distant song as I hasten along. Music fills the fast passing hours of our lives, and offers a connection to, the vacate of infinity, history, memory.

No comments:

Post a Comment