Saturday, January 11, 2014

Mr. Blake's Monster

To Winter

O winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine: there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

He hears me not, but o'er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchain'd, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath rear'd his sceptre o'er the world.

Lo! now the dire monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! That deal'st
With storms, till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.

~Wm. Blake
Mt. Hekla is one of Iceland's most active volcanos.

1 comment:

  1. I wasn't familiar with either this poem or Burns's - maybe because I don't like reading about winter! - but I like the way you've compared them. Still don't like Winter :-)
    (You've got a typo here, in the second line: built.)
    Thanks, M.K.!


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