Monday, January 10, 2011

Kubla Khan : Poetry of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
   A stately pleasure-dome decree:
   Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
   Through caverns measureless to man
   Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
    Floated midway on the waves:
Where was heard the mingled measure
    From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
    A damsel with a dulcimer
    In a vision once I saw:
    It was an Abyssinian maid,
    And on her dulcimer she played,
    Singing of Mount Abora.
    Could I revive within me
    Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 't would win me
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

4 comments:

M Pax said...

A lot of great imagery and inspiration in this poem. Thanks for sharing it, Mike.

Anonymous said...

Angel aka the Philosopher said...

Ah yes, I seem to remember reading this one
a while ago. Quite descriptive and thought
provoking, my friend. ;)....

AkaProfessorM said...

@M Pax: I find that the Classics are filled with inspiration & often the writer may miss their subtleties, the first time around, M Pax.

Ever so often then, I find it quite helpful to once more reacquaint myself, with one of these pieces. The flow and symmetry of the words used, makes one marvel at the minds that did produced them.

I believe that if someone wishes to be a writer then reading must be their first passion. Once I became a reader, my intensity for those printed words increased as did the scope as my choices.

The internet provides me with the resource to feed my passion while tempting my palate with a myriad of choice from which to choose.

Glad you liked this one! :)

AkaProfessorM said...

@Angel aka The Philosopher: You, unlike most of my readers, have already shown a very high degree of awareness and understanding with the offerings you've made on TPWS, Angel.

Poetic verse, like this, is certainly not really everyone's cup of tea. This piece is laced with such vivid imagery, intense passion and hints of undeniable mysticism.

Coleridge's work shows the effects of mental illness and drug addictions. Yet like so many artists, there are flashes of real brilliance which can't be dismissed.

Whatever the reason, the real drawing power of the medium is the message each derives from what they themselves get from it.

Thanks for the read and the comment, Angel! ;D