Speech (the longest blog entry EVER)

alright, so i joined speech again...mostly because Rachel wanted me to, but that's okay. last year, i was in the prose category, but this year (i think i'll like it better) i'm in the Poetry category. i think i'm going to do a combination of "Irene" and "The Sleeper" by Edgar Allan Poe. (he's one of my top favorite poets, along with Emily Dickenson and Shel Silverstein.)

Irene
'Tis now (so sings the soaring moon)
Midnight in the sweet month of June,
When Winged visions love to lie
Lazily upon beauty's eye,
Or worse--upon her brow to dance
In panoply of old romance
Till thoughts and locks are left, alas!
A ne'er-to-be untangled mass.

An influence dew, drowsy, dim,
Is dripping from that golden rim;
Grey towers are mouldering into rest,
Wrapping the fog around their breast:
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not for the world awake:

The rosemary sleeps upon the grave--
The lily lolls upon the wave--
And a million bright pines to and fro,
Are rocking lullabies as they go,
To the lone oak that reels with bliss,
Nodding above the dim abyss.

All beauty sleeps: and lo! where lies
with casement open to the skies,
Irene, with her destinies!
Thus hums the moon within her ear,
"O lady sweet! how camest thou here?
"strange are thine eyelids--strange thy dress!
"And strange thy glorious length of tress!
Some gentle wind hath thought it right
"tTo open thy window to the night,
"And wonton airs from tree-top,
"laughingly thro' the lattice drop,
"And wave this crimson canopy,
"Like a banner o'er thy dreaming eye!
"Lady, awake! Lady awake!
"for the holy Jesus' sake!
"For strangely--fearfully in this hall
"My tinted shadows rise and fall!"

The lady sleeps: the dead all sleep--
at least as long as Love doth weep:
Entranc'd, the spirits love to lie
As long as--tears on Memory's eye:
But when a week or two go by,
and the light laughter chokes the sigh,
indignant from the tomb doth take
it's way to some remember'd lake,
were oft--in life--with friends--it went
to bathe in the pure element,
and there, from the untrodden grass,
wreathing for it's transparent brow
those flowers that say (ah, hear them now!)
to the night winds as they pass,
"Ai! ai! alas!--alas!"
pores for a moment, ere it go,
on the clear waters there that flow,
then sinks within (wiegh'd down by wo)
th' uncertain, shadowy, heaven below.

the lady sleeps:oh! may her sleep
as long is lasting be so deep--
no icy worms about her creep:
i pray to God that she may lie
forever with as calm an eye,
that chamber chang'd for one more holy--
that bed for one more melancholy.

far in the forest, dim and old,
for her may som tall vault unfold
against whos sounding door she hath thrown,
in childhood, many an idle stone--
some tomb, which oft hath flung it's black
and vampyre-winged pannels back,
Flutt'ring triumphant o'er the palls
of her old family funerals.

The Sleeper
At midnight, in the month of June,
i stand beneath the mystic moon.
an opiate vapour, dewy, dim,
exhales from out her golden rim,
and, softly dripping, drop by drop,
upon the quiet mountain top,
steals drowsily and musically
into the universal valley.
the rosmary nods upon the grave;
the lily lolls upon the wave;
wrapping the fog about it's breast,
the ruin moulders into the rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
a concious slumber seems to take,
and would not, for the world, awake.
all Beauty sleeps!--and lo!! where lies
(her casement open to the skies)
Irene, with her Destinies!

Oh, lady bright! can it be right--
this window open to the night?
the wonton airs, from the tree-top,
laughingly through the lattice drop--
the bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
flit through thy chamber in and out,
and wave the curtain canopy
so fitfully--so fearfully--
above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
that o'er the floor and down the wall,
like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
why and what art thou dreaming here?
sure thou art come o'er far-off seas,
a wonder to these gardon trees!
strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress!
strange, above all, thy length of tress
and this all solemn silentness!

The lady sleeps! oh, may her sleep,
which is enduring, so be deep!
heaven have her in it's sacred keep!
this chamber changed for one more holy,
this bed for one more melancholy!
I pray to God that she may lie
Forever with unopened eye,
while the dim sheeted ghosts go by!

My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
as it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
far in the forest, dim and old,
for her some tall vault unfold--
some vault that oft hath flung it's black
and winged pannels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,
of her grand family funerals--
some sepulchre, remote, alone,
against whos portal she hath thrown,
in childhood, many an idle stone--
some tomb from out whos sounding door
she ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.



Well, that was about the longest blog i've ever typed, and i think i may possibly have carpel tunnel or something of the sort. (as a matter of fact, the only reason i even bothered was because typing and/or writing something out helps me memorize it. ) i mean, i could've just done this: http://www.pambytes.com/poe/poe.html

gah!

Brii333