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🗓️ 23 January 2024
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John Keats was born in London on 31 October 1795, the eldest of Thomas and Frances Jennings Keats’s four children. Although he died at the age of twenty-five, Keats had perhaps the most remarkable career of any English poet. He published only fifty-four poems, in three slim volumes and a few magazines. But over his short development he took on the challenges of a wide range of poetic forms from the sonnet, to the Spenserian romance, to the Miltonic epic, defining anew their possibilities with his own distinctive fusion of earnest energy, control of conflicting perspectives and forces, poetic self-consciousness, and, occasionally, dry ironic wit.
Although he is now seen as part of the British Romantic literary tradition, in his own lifetime Keats would not have been associated with other major Romantic poets, and he himself was often uneasy among them. Outside his friend Leigh Hunt‘s circle of liberal intellectuals, the generally conservative reviewers of the day attacked his work as mawkish and bad-mannered, as the work of an upstart “vulgar Cockney poetaster” (John Gibson Lockhart), and as consisting of “the most incongruous ideas in the most uncouth language” (John Wilson Croker). Although Keats had a liberal education in the boy’s academy at Enfield and trained at Guy’s Hospital to become a surgeon, he had no formal literary education. Yet Keats today is seen as one of the canniest readers, interpreters, questioners, of the “modern” poetic project-which he saw as beginning with William Wordsworth—to create poetry in a world devoid of mythic grandeur, poetry that sought its wonder in the desires and sufferings of the human heart. Beyond his precise sense of the difficulties presented him in his own literary-historical moment, he developed with unparalleled rapidity, in a relative handful of extraordinary poems, a rich, powerful, and exactly controlled poetic style that ranks Keats, with the William Shakespeare of the sonnets, as one of the greatest lyric poets in English.
-bio via Poetry Foundation
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0:00.0 | Welcome back to the Daily Poem, a podcast from Goldberry Studios. I'm Sean Johnson, and today is Tuesday, January 23rd, 2004. Today's poem is by John Keats, and it's called When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be. I'll read it once, offer a few comments, and then read it one more time. |
0:25.4 | Here is when I have fears that I may cease to be a sonnet that takes its title from the first line. |
0:33.6 | When I have fears that I may cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, |
0:40.1 | before high-pilead books and charactery hold like rich garners the full ripened grain, |
0:46.7 | when I behold upon the night's starred face, huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, |
0:52.4 | and think that I may never live to trace their shadows |
0:56.0 | with the magic hand of chance. And when I feel fair creature of an hour that I shall never |
1:02.4 | look upon thee more, never have relish in the fairy power of unreflecting love. Then on the shore |
1:10.2 | of the wide world, I stand alone, |
1:12.9 | and I think to love and fame to nothingness do sink. |
1:24.0 | There's a kind of meta-sadness, an overarching behind-the-scenes sadness to this poem, |
1:32.9 | given that John Keats would die at the age of 25 cut down in his prime, |
1:42.3 | which is exactly what he was worrying about in the lines of this sonnet. |
1:47.0 | He had it right, after all. |
1:51.0 | But a sonnet it is, and yet it's in many ways a kind of anti-sonnet. |
1:57.0 | If what you think of, when you think of the English sonnet is something by Shakespeare, |
2:02.5 | and you probably should, that's a correct instinct. If you were reading a sonnet that began this way |
2:10.8 | and its author were Shakespeare, you would probably expect a kind of surprising turn or solution to this problem at the end of the poem. |
2:22.9 | That's the way that a sonnet structure works. It usually proposes a problem, and then the poet |
2:28.4 | offers a solution or answer to that problem. Or a way of reconceptualizing the problem so that |
2:38.5 | you can see it in a new light that maybe makes it not so problematic after all. Here though, |
2:46.3 | we don't get to line eight or nine or line 10 or 12 and hear the poets say ah but you and your love make me forget all of these things |
... |
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