Dover Beach
This is a draft of what could possibly be one of my best works ever, and this took less than an hour to write. I did do quite a bit of (prewriting) deciphering of each line in the poem...enough to fill 9 pages of lined paper on all the different aspects, meanings, ect. of Dover Beach. I thought it could have been a love story, or a tragic loss, a war, a breakup, but as it turns out, it may have included it all. Enjoy this, its a fun read. I'll make you think, after you read the poem, read this, read the poem again, and try to figure out what it all means. If you dont take every single line in though, you might miss a very important segment, and there are many.
Kevin Ford
6/7/05
Pruett
6:30 Eng 111 Tues
Dover Beach: Tears Reflection
The wind blew gently, blades of grass sway back and forth in its breath. The sun paints the sky a lush gradient of sweeping blues and the clouds reflect off the soul the of sweet Mother Nature. Grass even on the other side could never shine so green, or speak so fragrantly of its pride and joy. A boy stood on these hills, looking from back to forth alongside the only road stretching into the distant city. Not a sound from its frantic core reached these parts; only the caressing speaks of the breeze. Perhaps, if one listened closely, they'd hear the soft sob of the boy. A car lay twisted on the tree next to him, an arm hanging out the window. The boys shining tears streamed, mixing in along side of the alcoholic puddle, released from the broken bottle. Close your eyes, and what is left of this image, but the peaceful sounds of an open plain.
Beauty can turn upside in less than two lines, Dover Beach creates one of the most beautiful translations of serenity, understanding, and terror ever transcribed in literature. The previous fictitious story and Dover Beach share the same message. A plea for understanding, a cry for just one simple moment to express itself. If the world would only listen, of how the human race has declined into such a lost state of mind in which the most innocent descriptions are later mutated into depressive depictions of a paradise lost. Dover Beach describes one man’s loss of sight in an age he once knew, while the world loses faith in the heavens, trust in each other, and disregard for righteous humanity. Throughout the poem, the visual effect of this poem lessens while the aural effect transcends.
I chose Dover Beach first and foremost because I am one who enjoys the beach, whether it be during the morning rise, afternoon swim, evening walk, or midnight calling. Once in a while I’ll just choose to cover a topic simply because of it’s name, and this was the case here. As it turns out, Matthew Arnolds poem is as superb as any other, and I feel is far superior to many other poems I’ve read from authors I’ve heard more acclaim from. He mixes in a light rhyming scheme, breathtaking scenery, and burrowing symbolism to devise one very deep, complicated, compact work of art. I will explain how this poem in thought, feeling, and physicality shift from pure visual bliss into aural frustration.
“The Sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; - on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.”
Lines one through five illustrate the painting of an artist with a perfect hand for capturing someone’s imagination. Close your eyes, and imagine the feeling of the perfect night beside the beach. The tide is full, the water is high up to your feet, the moon sparkles off the water. A light breeze scoots across your arms and legs. The scene is of complete tranquility, its quite, calm, still, and in complete harmony with your well content heart. Perhaps a pina colada is in your right or left hand.
“Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,”
Here we know of a man or woman, whom is not alone, their significant other awaits by their side, enjoying the full embodiment of peacefulness. The oceans heavy waves crash upon the beautiful white sand, particles of perfection float along the lowest part of Earth’s atmosphere and scent the air sweet.
“Listen! You hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin.
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in”
Listen, the visual effects begin to fade out, and what we see as readers begin to fill our imaginary ears in which we use to better understand this story. The jarring waves take notice of his sight and sound. He watched the waves roll up and down the coastline, listening to its crash against the rocks. But what has happened to our peaceful serenity, as a major change is developing inside. “With tremulous cadence slow, and bring the eternal note of sadness in” What has happened to our beautiful beach? What can the eternal note have comparison, perhaps the internal weeping of a boy lost without a parent, an undying regret, or perhaps a chilling nightmare stuck in perpetual motion of the cerebral imagination.
“Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.”
One word injects thousands of pages of literature, hundreds of documentaries, and countless numbers of over analyzed material. This one subject is not so much a word, but a person, Sophocles. Many consider Sophocles to be one of the greatest playwrights in the history of mankind. The creator of Oedipus, and his child Antigone. Sophocles characters degenerate into barbaric souls greedily seeking only power and love. They live blind to the wake of their actions, and call upon gods whom supposedly gave the ok to murder each other. Religion. Faith. Love. Murder. Betrayal. Corruption! Is this what our solitary beach holds in its water? The ebb and flow, the sea sinks farther and farther from our figure whom relies more and more on his ears. Human misery racks his ears. Not the once peaceful sounds of the ocean.
“The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
It’s melancholy long, withdrawing roar
Retreating, to the breath
Of he night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.”
Our site of the beach is gone, what was once a poem about its grace and beauty, descends into its grimy depths to speak of human misery. The most important symbol of the poem lies in this passage. The Sea of Faith was once too at the full all around the world. Its grip on the world was powerful and tight. The Sea has ebbed, embraced by fewer and fewer as they look elsewhere for their answers. These people look for these answers, answers to questions that bother them so. The answers to life, love, immortality, evolution, facts, ect. The man is one of these people, and now lives in regret. He himself no longer embraces the sight of the sea, rather, he settles for how it sounds instead, the melancholy long, withdrawing roar. Our friend is most likely disappointed with his results, as he longs for the beauty of the ocean again, of the stars glimmer, of the moons reflection. Of a smell so sweet and a breeze so gentle. This is his “eternal note of sadness”, he wishes he had resisted the lure of the “new”.
“Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! For the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain”
Yet in stranded in his answer plagued mind, one person stands there lovingly by his side. His one true love, and they talk of the pain they must endure. The sea lays in front of them, the faith, but they cannot see it. The tide has dropped the sea too far for their eyes. The sounds fill their minds now, the new world in which they live, the enlightened world. It was supposed to be filled with options, beauty, newness! But to their disappointment all these truths in the end filed down into painful realities. They, and all those in the world whom else cannot see the Sea of Faith, have gained few answers to their many questions. Their joy sinks, their love crumbles, their light fades, chivalry passes away, peace becomes a memory, and pain, the eternal pain…the misery, is all that is left.
Kevin Ford
6/7/05
Pruett
6:30 Eng 111 Tues
Dover Beach: Tears Reflection
The wind blew gently, blades of grass sway back and forth in its breath. The sun paints the sky a lush gradient of sweeping blues and the clouds reflect off the soul the of sweet Mother Nature. Grass even on the other side could never shine so green, or speak so fragrantly of its pride and joy. A boy stood on these hills, looking from back to forth alongside the only road stretching into the distant city. Not a sound from its frantic core reached these parts; only the caressing speaks of the breeze. Perhaps, if one listened closely, they'd hear the soft sob of the boy. A car lay twisted on the tree next to him, an arm hanging out the window. The boys shining tears streamed, mixing in along side of the alcoholic puddle, released from the broken bottle. Close your eyes, and what is left of this image, but the peaceful sounds of an open plain.
Beauty can turn upside in less than two lines, Dover Beach creates one of the most beautiful translations of serenity, understanding, and terror ever transcribed in literature. The previous fictitious story and Dover Beach share the same message. A plea for understanding, a cry for just one simple moment to express itself. If the world would only listen, of how the human race has declined into such a lost state of mind in which the most innocent descriptions are later mutated into depressive depictions of a paradise lost. Dover Beach describes one man’s loss of sight in an age he once knew, while the world loses faith in the heavens, trust in each other, and disregard for righteous humanity. Throughout the poem, the visual effect of this poem lessens while the aural effect transcends.
I chose Dover Beach first and foremost because I am one who enjoys the beach, whether it be during the morning rise, afternoon swim, evening walk, or midnight calling. Once in a while I’ll just choose to cover a topic simply because of it’s name, and this was the case here. As it turns out, Matthew Arnolds poem is as superb as any other, and I feel is far superior to many other poems I’ve read from authors I’ve heard more acclaim from. He mixes in a light rhyming scheme, breathtaking scenery, and burrowing symbolism to devise one very deep, complicated, compact work of art. I will explain how this poem in thought, feeling, and physicality shift from pure visual bliss into aural frustration.
“The Sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; - on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.”
Lines one through five illustrate the painting of an artist with a perfect hand for capturing someone’s imagination. Close your eyes, and imagine the feeling of the perfect night beside the beach. The tide is full, the water is high up to your feet, the moon sparkles off the water. A light breeze scoots across your arms and legs. The scene is of complete tranquility, its quite, calm, still, and in complete harmony with your well content heart. Perhaps a pina colada is in your right or left hand.
“Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,”
Here we know of a man or woman, whom is not alone, their significant other awaits by their side, enjoying the full embodiment of peacefulness. The oceans heavy waves crash upon the beautiful white sand, particles of perfection float along the lowest part of Earth’s atmosphere and scent the air sweet.
“Listen! You hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin.
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in”
Listen, the visual effects begin to fade out, and what we see as readers begin to fill our imaginary ears in which we use to better understand this story. The jarring waves take notice of his sight and sound. He watched the waves roll up and down the coastline, listening to its crash against the rocks. But what has happened to our peaceful serenity, as a major change is developing inside. “With tremulous cadence slow, and bring the eternal note of sadness in” What has happened to our beautiful beach? What can the eternal note have comparison, perhaps the internal weeping of a boy lost without a parent, an undying regret, or perhaps a chilling nightmare stuck in perpetual motion of the cerebral imagination.
“Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.”
One word injects thousands of pages of literature, hundreds of documentaries, and countless numbers of over analyzed material. This one subject is not so much a word, but a person, Sophocles. Many consider Sophocles to be one of the greatest playwrights in the history of mankind. The creator of Oedipus, and his child Antigone. Sophocles characters degenerate into barbaric souls greedily seeking only power and love. They live blind to the wake of their actions, and call upon gods whom supposedly gave the ok to murder each other. Religion. Faith. Love. Murder. Betrayal. Corruption! Is this what our solitary beach holds in its water? The ebb and flow, the sea sinks farther and farther from our figure whom relies more and more on his ears. Human misery racks his ears. Not the once peaceful sounds of the ocean.
“The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
It’s melancholy long, withdrawing roar
Retreating, to the breath
Of he night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.”
Our site of the beach is gone, what was once a poem about its grace and beauty, descends into its grimy depths to speak of human misery. The most important symbol of the poem lies in this passage. The Sea of Faith was once too at the full all around the world. Its grip on the world was powerful and tight. The Sea has ebbed, embraced by fewer and fewer as they look elsewhere for their answers. These people look for these answers, answers to questions that bother them so. The answers to life, love, immortality, evolution, facts, ect. The man is one of these people, and now lives in regret. He himself no longer embraces the sight of the sea, rather, he settles for how it sounds instead, the melancholy long, withdrawing roar. Our friend is most likely disappointed with his results, as he longs for the beauty of the ocean again, of the stars glimmer, of the moons reflection. Of a smell so sweet and a breeze so gentle. This is his “eternal note of sadness”, he wishes he had resisted the lure of the “new”.
“Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! For the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain”
Yet in stranded in his answer plagued mind, one person stands there lovingly by his side. His one true love, and they talk of the pain they must endure. The sea lays in front of them, the faith, but they cannot see it. The tide has dropped the sea too far for their eyes. The sounds fill their minds now, the new world in which they live, the enlightened world. It was supposed to be filled with options, beauty, newness! But to their disappointment all these truths in the end filed down into painful realities. They, and all those in the world whom else cannot see the Sea of Faith, have gained few answers to their many questions. Their joy sinks, their love crumbles, their light fades, chivalry passes away, peace becomes a memory, and pain, the eternal pain…the misery, is all that is left.
“Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.”
Where ignorant armies clash by night.”
posted by Kev at 8:35 PM
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