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British Poetry: A Greatest Hits ListTitles Poets Historical Periods/

Lit. MovementsLiterary Key Words

“Barbara Allen”

“Scarborough Faire”

minstrels Medieval Period balladnarrative poetry

Sonnet 29

“One Day I Wrote Her Name”

William Shakespeare

Edmund Spenser

Renaissance orElizabethan Age16th Century

Shakespearean Sonnet

Spenserian Sonnet

“The Passionate Shepherd to His Love”

“The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd”

Christopher Marlowe

Sir Walter Raleigh

Renaissance orElizabethan Age

pastoral

“Death Be Not Proud”

“Death”

John Donne

George Herbert

17th CenturyJacobean eraMetaphysical poetry

literary conceit(extended metaphor)

“To His Coy Mistress”

“To the Virgins to Make Much of Time”

Andrew Marvell

Robert Herrick

17th CenturyCavalier Poetry

Carpe diem(car-PAY DEE-em)

“Tyger, Tyger” and “Little Lamb” by William Blake

“The World Is Too Much with Us,” “I Wandered Lonely” by William Wordsworth

“Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Late 18th –Early 19th

Century

Romanticism

Lyric

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”“The World Is Too Much”

“She Walks in Beauty”

“Ode on a Grecian Urn”

“Ozymandias”

William Wordsworth

Lord Byron

John Keats

Percy B. Shelley

19th CenturyRomanticism lyric

ode

“The Charge of the Light Brigade”

“The Secret of the Machines”

“My Last Duchess”

“Porphyria’s Lover”

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Rudyard Kipling

Robert Browning

Robert Browning

The Victorian Era (1830-1901)

Industrial Revolution

ElegyNarrative poem

Dramatic Monologue

Gothic“Dulce et Decorum Est”

“The Hollow Men”

Wilfred Owen

T.S. Eliot

Early 20th Century

Modernist poetry

social commentary

streamof consciousness

free verse

Groups Renaissance 2 Sonnets Early Modern-17th C 2 Cavalier poemsEarly Modern-17th C 2 Metaphysical poemsVictorian 2 poems (1 Kipling; 1 Tennyson)Romanticism 2 poems (2 Wordsworth or

1Wordsworth, 1 Keats)Modernist 2 (1 Eliot; 1 Owen)

Research Project: British PoetryYour Task: Write an essay demonstrating how two poems reflect the characteristics of a certain time period or literary movement in British literary history.

1. Conduct library research on the time period, literary movement, and genre.

2. Share your findings with your classmates in a digital presentation.3. Analyze how the poets use a variety of poetic techniques to make

meaning in the poems. 4. Explain how these poems are representative of the time period and genre to which they belong.

Suggested Essay Structure:

Introduction ● Engaging opener (connect to universal topic/theme/question)● Titles and poets● Theme or topic of the poems● Introduction to the time period/genre● Thesis statement (how these poems represent a specific literary period/genre)

Body Paragraph 1● Description of time period (historical context) or literary movement● Defining characteristics of the poetic genre● Key terms needed to discuss the time period/genre● Critical reception of the poets at the time they published their work● Be sure to cite sources in parenthesis at end of sentences containing summary, paraphrase, or quotations.

Body Paragraph 2● Analysis of Poem 1 (How does the poet develop a central idea?)● How Poem 1 is representative of the time period/genre/literary movement● Be sure to cite sources in parenthesis at end of sentences containing summary, paraphrase, or quotations.

Body Paragraph 3● Analysis of Poem 2 (How does the poet develop a central idea?)● How Poem 2 is representative of the time period/genre/literary movement● Be sure to cite sources in parenthesis at end of sentences containing summary, paraphrase, or quotations.

Body Paragraph 4● Discussion of both poems (similarities/differences in terms of theme/technique)● Be sure to cite sources in parenthesis at end of sentences containing summary, paraphrase, or quotations.

Conclusion ● Relevance to today● Discuss timeless themes or popular poetic styles/structures

Works Cited page● Follow the models given to you and/or consult the Purdue OWL for MLA format rules

Project Tasks/Deadlines:

● Works Cited Page w/ In-Text Citation:_________

● Notes: __________

● Presentation:___________

● Poem Analysis Packet: ___________

● Rough Draft: ___________

● Final Draft: ___________

Research Project: Step by Step

Find articles on the following:● at least 2 articles on literary movement and historical context/time period ● 1 biographical article on each poet ● at least 1 article defining a key literary term (a poetic genre, concept, stylistic feature, etc.)

Where/How to Look:● Go to the RHS Library website for our project to find the links you need.● Use the key terms on the greatest hits list of poetry. ● Find detailed information in academic databases (ProQuest or Gale) and/or www.poets.org or

www.poetryfoundation.org.● Use the library catalog to find reference materials (or books you can check out).● Download articles to your Google Drive.

Take notes in Google Docs:● Title your Notes document: “Notes British Poetry” or “Notes on Modernism”● Notes must have the source citation at the top in MLA format. ● This citation also needs to be listed on your Works Cited page and in a shortened form in the text of

your essay (that’s called in-text or parenthetical citation). ● Start a new page for each source. Use bullets to organize the material.● Take notes by summarizing, paraphrasing, or quoting a source directly.

Create a Google Slide Presentation: ● Share the presentation with your group members.● Organize your presentation in a logical, coherent form.● Be concise: Do NOT overload audience with text-heavy slides. Include brief talking points only.● A Works Cited slide must appear at the end of the presentation. Use MLA format.

Take Notes on Classmates’ Presentations● Unit test will require you to use these notes to answer questions about all of the different poetic genres

and literary periods.● You will be asked to compare and contrast literary styles in different literary movements.

The Medieval Period:Background Information

Poets Literary Movement(s)

Historical Context Stylistic Features and Themes

The Medieval Period: PoetryBarbara Allen

In Scarlet town, where I was born, There was a fair maid dwellin’, Made every youth cry Well-a-way! Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin’, Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay, For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man in to her then, To the town where she was dwellin’; “O haste and come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen.”

So slowly, slowly rase she up, And slowly she came nigh him, And when she drew the curtain by— “Young man, I think you’re dyin’.”

“O it’s I am sick and very very sick, And it’s all for Barbara Allen.”— O the better for me ye’se never be, Tho’ your heart’s blood were a-spillin’!

“O dinna ye mind, young man,” says she, “When the red wine ye were fillin’, That ye made the healths go round and round, And slighted Barbara Allen?”

He turned his face unto the wall, And death was with him dealin’: “Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And be kind to Barbara Allen!”

As she was walking o’er the fields, She heard the dead-bell knellin’; And every jow the dead-bell gave Cried “Woe to Barbara Allen.”

“O mother, mother, make my bed, O make it saft and narrow: My love has died for me today, I’ll die for him tomorrow.”

“Farewell,” she said, “ye virgins all, And shun the fault I fell in: Henceforth take warning by the fall Of cruel Barbara Allen.”

Scarborough Faire

Are you going to Scarborough Faire?Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.Remember me to one who lived there.She once was a true love of mine.

Have her make me a cambric shirtParsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.Without no seams, nor fine needle work.Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to weave it in a sycamore wood lane.Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeGather it up in a basket of flowersThen she'll be a true love of mine

Have her wash it in yonder dry wellParsley, sage, rosemary and thymeWhere water ne'er sprung, nor drop of rain fell.Then she'll be a true love of mine

Tell her to to find me an acre of land.Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeBetween the sea foam and over the sand.Then she'll be a true love of mine

Plow the land with the horn of a lamb.Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeThen sow some seeds from north of the dam.Then she'll be a true love of mine

Have her reap it with a sickle of leather.Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeGather it up in a bunch of heather.Then she'll be a true love of mine

If she tells me she can't, then I'll reply.Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeLet me know, that at least she will try.Then she'll be a true love of mine

Love imposes impossible tasks Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeThough not more than any heart asks.And I must know she's true love of mine

When thou has finished thy task.Parsley, sage, rosemary and thymeCome to me my hand for to ask.For then you'll be a true love of mine

The Renaissance:Background Information



The Renaissance: SonnetsSonnet 29 by William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,I all alone beweep my outcast state,And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,And look upon myself and curse my fate,Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,With what I most enjoy contented least;Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,Haply I think on thee, and then my state,(Like to the lark at break of day arisingFrom sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Amoretti LXXV: by Edmund SpenserOne day I wrote her name upon the strand,But came the waves and washed it away:Again I wrote it with a second hand,But came the tide, and made my pains his prey."Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay,A mortal thing so to immortalize;For I myself shall like to this decay,And eke my name be wiped out likewise.""Not so," (quod I) "let baser things deviseTo die in dust, but you shall live by fame:My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,And in the heavens write your glorious name:Where when as death shall all the world subdue,Our love shall live, and later life renew."

The Renaissance: PastoralsThe Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe

Come live with me and be my love,And we will all the pleasures prove,That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the Rocks,Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,By shallow Rivers to whose fallsMelodious birds sing Madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of RosesAnd a thousand fragrant posies,A cap of flowers, and a kirtleEmbroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;

A gown made of the finest woolWhich from our pretty Lambs we pull;Fair lined slippers for the cold,With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and Ivy buds,With Coral clasps and Amber studs:And if these pleasures may thee move,Come live with me, and be my love.

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and singFor thy delight each May-morning:If these delights thy mind may move,Then live with me, and be my love.

The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd by Sir Walter Raleigh

If all the world and love were young,And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,These pretty pleasures might me move,To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,And Philomel becometh dumb,The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,To wayward winter reckoning yields,A honey tongue, a heart of gall,Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posiesSoon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,The Coral clasps and amber studs,All these in me no means can moveTo come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,Had joys no date, nor age no need,Then these delights my mind might moveTo live with thee, and be thy love.

The 17th Century:Background Information



17th Century: Metaphysical PoetsHoly Sonnets: Death, Be Not Proud by John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,And soonest our best men with thee do go,Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,And poppy or charms can make us sleep as wellAnd better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?One short sleep past, we wake eternallyAnd death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Death by George Herbert

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The sad effect of sadder groans:Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.

For we considered thee as at some six Or ten years hence, After the loss of life and sense,Flesh being turned to dust, and bones to sticks.

We looked on this side of thee, shooting short; Where we did find The shells of fledge souls left behind,Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.

But since our Savior’s death did put some blood Into thy face, Thou art grown fair and full of grace,Much in request, much sought for as a good.

For we do now behold thee gay and glad, As at Doomsday; When souls shall wear their new array,And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad.

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Half that we have Unto an honest faithful grave;

Making our pillows either down, or dust.

17th Century—Cavalier PoetsTo His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell (Metaphysical poet)Had we but world enough and time,This coyness, lady, were no crime.We would sit down, and think which wayTo walk, and pass our long love’s day.Thou by the Indian Ganges’ sideShouldst rubies find; I by the tideOf Humber would complain. I wouldLove you ten years before the flood,And you should, if you please, refuseTill the conversion of the Jews.My vegetable love should growVaster than empires and more slow;An hundred years should go to praiseThine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;Two hundred to adore each breast,But thirty thousand to the rest;An age at least to every part,And the last age should show your heart.For, lady, you deserve this state,Nor would I love at lower rate. But at my back I always hearTime’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;And yonder all before us lieDeserts of vast eternity.Thy beauty shall no more be found;Nor, in thy marble vault, shall soundMy echoing song; then worms shall tryThat long-preserved virginity,And your quaint honour turn to dust,And into ashes all my lust;The grave’s a fine and private place,But none, I think, do there embrace. Now therefore, while the youthful hueSits on thy skin like morning dew,And while thy willing soul transpiresAt every pore with instant fires,Now let us sport us while we may,And now, like amorous birds of prey,Rather at once our time devourThan languish in his slow-chapped power.Let us roll all our strength and allOur sweetness up into one ball,And tear our pleasures with rough strifeThrough the iron gates of life:Thus, though we cannot make our sunStand still, yet we will make him run.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time by Robert Herrick

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying;And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting,The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer;But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry;For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry.

Romanticism:Background Information

Poets Literary Movement


RomanticismI Wandered Lonely by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Bryon

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

The Victorian Era:Background Information



Victorian PoetryThe Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I

Half a league, half a league,Half a league onward,All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.“Forward, the Light Brigade!Charge for the guns!” he said.Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

II“Forward, the Light Brigade!”Was there a man dismayed?Not though the soldier knew Someone had blundered. Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

IIICannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered;Stormed at with shot and shell,Boldly they rode and well,Into the jaws of Death,Into the mouth of hell Rode the six hundred.

IVFlashed all their sabres bare,Flashed as they turned in airSabring the gunners there,Charging an army, while All the world wondered.Plunged in the battery-smokeRight through the line they broke;Cossack and RussianReeled from the sabre stroke Shattered and sundered.Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred.

VCannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered;Stormed at with shot and shell,While horse and hero fell.They that had fought so wellCame through the jaws of Death,Back from the mouth of hell,All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.

VIWhen can their glory fade?O the wild charge they made! All the world wondered.Honour the charge they made!Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!

Victorian PoetryThe Secret of the Machines by Rudyard Kipling

(MODERN MACHINERY)

We were taken from the ore-bed and the mine, We were melted in the furnace and the pit— We were cast and wrought and hammered to design, We were cut and filed and tooled and gauged to fit. Some water, coal, and oil is all we ask, And a thousandth of an inch to give us play: And now, if you will set us to our task, We will serve you four and twenty hours a day!

We can pull and haul and push and lift and drive, We can print and plough and weave and heat and light, We can run and race and swim and fly and dive, We can see and hear and count and read and write!

Would you call a friend from half across the world? If you’ll let us have his name and town and state, You shall see and hear your crackling question hurled Across the arch of heaven while you wait. Has he answered? Does he need you at his side? You can start this very evening if you choose, And take the Western Ocean in the stride Of seventy thousand horses and some screws!

The boat-express is waiting your command! You will find the Mauretania at the quay, Till her captain turns the lever ’neath his hand, And the monstrous nine-decked city goes to sea.

Do you wish to make the mountains bare their head And lay their new-cut forests at your feet? Do you want to turn a river in its bed, Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat? Shall we pipe aloft and bring you water down From the never-failing cisterns of the snows, To work the mills and tramways in your town, And irrigate your orchards as it flows?

It is easy! Give us dynamite and drills! Watch the iron-shouldered rocks lie down and quake As the thirsty desert-level floods and fills, And the valley we have dammed becomes a lake.

But remember, please, the Law by which we live, We are not built to comprehend a lie, We can neither love nor pity nor forgive. If you make a slip in handling us you die! We are greater than the Peoples or the Kings— Be humble, as you crawl beneath our rods!- Our touch can alter all created things, We are everything on earth—except The Gods!

Though our smoke may hide the Heavens from your eyes, It will vanish and the stars will shine again, Because, for all our power and weight and size, We are nothing more than children of your brain!

Modernism:Background Information



Modernist PoetryDulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumblingFitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.

NOTE: Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

ModernismT.S. EliotMistah Kurtz-he dead A penny for the Old Guy

I

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom Remember us-if at all-not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men. II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death's dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind's singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer In death's dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer- Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man's hand Under the twinkle of a fading star. Is it like this In death's other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone. IV

The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the tumid river Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death's twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men.

V Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o'clock in the morning. Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response

Falls the Shadow Life is very long Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.

1. Mistah Kurtz: a character in Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness."2. A...Old Guy: a cry of English children on the streets on Guy Fawkes Day, November 5, when they carry straw effigies of Guy Fawkes and beg for money for fireworks to celebrate the day. Fawkes was a traitor who attempted with conspirators to blow up both houses of Parliament in 1605; the "gunpowder plot" failed.3. Those...Kingdom: Those who have represented something positive and direct are blessed in Paradise. The reference is to Dante's "Paradiso". 4. Eyes: eyes of those in eternity who had faith and confidence and were a force that acted and were not paralyzed.5. crossed stave: refers to scarecrows6. tumid river: swollen river. The River Acheron in Hell in Dante's "Inferno". The damned must cross this river to get to the land of the dead.7. Multifoliate rose: in dante's "Divine Comedy" paradise is described as a rose of many leaves.8. prickly pear: cactus9. Between...act: a reference to "Julius Caesar" "Between the acting of a dreadful thing/And the first motion, all the interim is/Like a phantasma or a hideous dream."10. For...Kingdom: the beginning of the closing words of the Lord's Prayer.

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