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engl 203 final

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English (Arts)
ENGL 203
Tabitha Sparks

Oscar Wilde The Portrait of Dorian Gray – the artist creates beautiful things and the critic translates his opinions on them in to another medium – finding ugly meaning in beautiful things is a fault, and finding beautiful ones is hopeful – books cannot be amoral, only judged on how they are written – artists do not desire to prove anything, as even truth cannot be proved – artists aren't morbid, nor do they have ethical sympathies; thought and language are their medium, and there's both a surface and symbolic level: going beneath the surface is dangerous; art mirrors the spectator, and creating disagreements between the critics is what artists strive to do – all art is useless: making a useful thing doesn't require admiration, but when it's useless, you must admire it intensely Thomas Hardy The Convergence of the Twain – aaa bbb ccc – she lies deep under the sea, away from everything – the currents are crashing against the boiler room – the sea worm watches, indifferent – everything materialistic designed to make it beautiful is for naught – the fish are confused as to why it's there – it's because of the Imminent Will – the natural iceberg was the ship's mate – the ship and the iceberg drew together – humans couldn't see that this was meant to be – they are two parts of the same thing – the two come together at the behest of the Imminent Will Channel Firing – abab – the guns fired, the dead thought it's judgement day – everyone was shocked/scared – it's just shooting out at sea, according to God – they don't understand why humans are so mad as to go to war, accomplishing nothing – it's a good thing it's not judgement day – God says it will be warmer on judgement day, if it ever comes – they lay down again, wondering if the world will ever stop the madness – the parson regrets preaching, wishing he'd stuck to vice – the guns fire again Wilfred Owen Arms and the Boy – consonance (para-rhyme) – let the boy try the bayonet, feeling its hunger for flesh – let the boy try guns, which ache to kill, full of the sharpness of grief and death – he seems to be innocent, no demon of any sort, so let's not let him stay that way Dulce et Decorum Est – abab – worn down, old, broken, the men march, limping on despite the abuse they've endured, deaf to the gas behind them – someone hears it, and they get their masks on just in time, all but one man who drowns in it – this dying man haunts the narrators dreams – if you could see him in your dreams too, hear his death-rattle, you (Jessie Pope, who wrote poetry to get men to join the army) would not tell tales of war for glory, and the old lie about it being honorable to die for one's country Anthem for Doomed Youth – petrarchan sonnet with English sonnet rhyme scheme (ababcdcdeffegg) – what bells are there for those who die int he war? None: there are only bugles. There are no candles, only the haunted eyes of those they've left behind. The women they've left at home are wearing their funeral pallor, the sunset is the drawing of the blinds Strange Meeting – consonance (para-rhyme) – he dreamt that he escaped the battle and went down a long tunnel – there were many people sleeping, and then finally when he causes one to stir, he realizes he's in Hell. – The man's face is full of pain, and he speaks to him. He says that whatever hope Owen has left, it was once his as well, but now it's gone. He went hunting for beauty and must die now. Men will be content with land ruined by war, or they won't and they'll go to war again. Courage and wisdom were his. He'll wash the blood from them. – He discovers that he's talking to the man that he killed yesterday W.B. Yeats Easter 1916 – abab – he has met “them,” passed them with a meaningless greeting, and thought of them in order to tell stories about them. Aterrible beauty is born. – The woman spent her days in ignorance and then someone younger came in to the scene.Aman rides in on a pegasus with his helper and friend and wins fame because he's sensitive and sweet. Then another man, a lout, he comes in because he has a part too, despite being a bastard. – Hearts with one purpose are enchanted.Ahorse comes, ridden by birds and raging from cloud to cloud. Minute by minute things change and the stone is in the middle of it all – a sacrifice makes a stone of the heart. Our part is to murmur name upon name, as mothers do. Then sleep comes, and what is that but nightfall, death. Is this death necessary? The English can keep faith; we know the dream that the Irish had before they died, and here's a list of their names. Aterrible beauty is born Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen – abab#### – many lovely things are gone, protected from the moon. There's an image of olive wood wrought of iron and stone replacing ivories and grasshoppers, but it's gone now – they used to have many pretty toys, and were indifferent to others' opinions, they thought that they'd outlive everything, as the worst humans had died out – cannons should be turned into ploughs, but they are not. The trumpeters are still trumpeting – the nightmares come, and the mother crawls in her own blood and the rulers are like rodents fighting – shallow wits are intoxicating, and there is but one comfort left, as triumph would be too happy – man loves the things that don't exist. No one can be found to ruin all the art – Chinese dancers, and there's another dragon and lots of whirling and there is a gong – the soul is like the swan and there's an image of it with its wings spread to fly, prideful, as the night approaches – a man lost in a maze and we should cast off the body and vanish and die and stay alone – the swan brings wildness, beings rage. What they dreamed to fix now no longer affects mankind as the wind blows – though they talked of honor and truth, they're revelling in pleasure like weasels – four stanzas on mockery – violence of horses, with pretty riders, decorated and running, feet thundering, there are cries. There is wind, and it lurches past. Robert and Lady Kyteler and bird imagery A Prayer for my Daughter – aabbcddc – there's a storm and his kid sleeps and a wind rolls in and there is a great gloom on his mind – he has walked and prayed for the kid and then there's storm description, he's imagining the future on the “murderous innocence” of the sea – he wants his girl to be pretty but not /that/ pretty, instead being kind – Helen of Troy had too much trouble, the horn of plenty is undone – he wants her to be courteous, because all men love kindness – she should be like a hidden tree, rooted in one place – his mind is dried up, and choked with hate. The wind can never tear it apart – smart women are the worst, they end up in a lot of trouble – the soul recovers innocence, as it is self-sustaining, and then there's more stuff about wind – he hopes that his kid's husband will bring her home ceremoniously. Mentions the laurel tree The Second Coming – no discernible rhyme scheme – the falcon can't hear the falconer, everything is falling apart, anarchy, no innocence, passionate intensity – the second coming is at hand, there is a sphinx in the desert among the birds – two thousand years of sleep and now something is creeping towards Bethlehem The Circus Animals' Desertion – abababcc – the narrator, an old man, has been trying to come up with something to write about. His circus animals are all on show – anything that he could write now will have been written before. Everything from the past is vain and embittered, and he doesn't care for it – he speaks of the countess Cathleen, and heaven and the destruction of her soul and how this brought forth dreams – the fool and the blind man and their theft and Cuchulain and the mysteries of the heart and how death dominates the memory – the images he used to be all for did grow from a pure mind, but they're crap. Everything is old and broken like him, so he has to retreat to an awful place he cannot escape Katherine Mansfield The Garden Party – the weather is ideal for a garden party. Roses are the only flowers that impress people at garden parties – the men come to put op the marquee, and the mother is going to leave everything to the children. – Laura has to talk to the men about the marquis, because Jose and Meg aren't suited to and she's very good at arranging things – she tries to copy her mother's voice, but falls back into her childishness – they're to put up the marquis somewhere it'll be conspicuous, though it will interrupt the beautiful trees. – Laura thinks that the workmen are very nice, and she would prefer to be friends with them: she feels like a work-girl – the telephone
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