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10 Greatest Poems E'er Written
Updated: September 4, 2021
by Evan Mantyk
What is poetry? What is great verse? The poems below respond these questions. From least greatest (10) to greatest greatest (i), the poems in this list are express to ones originally written in the English linguistic communication and which are under l lines, excluding poems similar Homer'due south Iliad, Edgar Allan Poe'southward "Raven," Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy , and Lord Byron's mock epic Don Juan . Each poem is followed by some brief analysis. Many skilful poems and poets had to exist left off of this list. In the comments section below, experience free to make additions or construct your own lists. Yous tin also submit analyses of classic poetry to submissions@classicalpoets.org. They will be considered for publication on this website.
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x. "The Road Not Taken" past Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Two roads diverged in a xanthous wood,
And sad I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked downwards ane as far as I could
To where information technology bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just equally fair,
And having perhaps the better merits,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though equally for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning time every bit lay
In leaves no footstep had trodden blackness.
Oh, I kept the first for some other day!
Still knowing how mode leads on to mode,
I doubted if I should e'er come up back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the 1 less traveled by,
And that has made all the departure.
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Assay of the Poem
This poem deals with that big noble question of "How to make a difference in the world?" On first reading, information technology tells us that the pick one makes actually does matter, catastrophe: "I took the ane less traveled past, / And that has fabricated all the difference."
A closer reading reveals that the lonely pick that was made earlier by our traveling narrator maybe wasn't all that pregnant since both roads were pretty much the aforementioned anyway ("Had warn them really virtually the aforementioned") and it is only in the remembering and retelling that it made a difference. We are left to ponder if the narrator had instead traveled downwards "The Route Non Taken" might it have likewise made a deviation equally well. In a sense, "The Route Not Taken" tears apart the traditional view of individualism, which hinges on the importance of choice, equally in the case of democracy in full general (choosing a candidate), as well equally various constitutional freedoms: choice of religion, choice of words (liberty of speech), choice of group (liberty of assembly), and choice of source of information (freedom of press). For example, we might imagine a young man choosing betwixt being a carpenter or a banker afterward seeing dandy significance in his choice to be a banker, but in fact at that place was not much in his original decision at all other than a passing fancy. In this, we meet the universality of man beings: the roads leading to carpenter and banker being basically the aforementioned and the carpenters and bankers at the end of them—seeming like individuals who made significant choices—actually being just part of the collective of the human being race.
Then is this poem non about the question "How to brand a divergence in the globe?" after all? No. Information technology is still about this question. The catastrophe is the most articulate and striking part. If zip else, readers are left with the impression that our narrator, who commands cute verse, profound imagery, and time itself ("ages and ages hence") puts value on striving to make a difference. The striving is reconstituted and complicated here in reflection, just our hero wants to make a deviation and then should nosotros. That is why this is a keen poem, from a basic or close reading perspective.
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nine. "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)
Not like the brazen behemothic of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows earth-wide welcome; her balmy eyes control
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Proceed, aboriginal lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched reject of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
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Analysis of the Poem
Inscribed on the Statue of Freedom in New York harbor, this sonnet may accept the greatest placement of whatever English verse form. It also has one of the greatest placements in history. Lazarus compares the Statue of Liberty to the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Like the Statue of Freedom, the Colossus of Rhodes was an enormous god-like statue positioned in a harbor. Although the Colossus of Rhodes no longer stands, it symbolizes the aboriginal Greek globe and the greatness of the aboriginal Greek and Roman civilization, which was lost for a 1000 years to the West, and only fully recovered over again during the Renaissance. "The New Colossus" succinctly crystallizes the connectedness betwixt the ancient earth and America, a modern nation. Information technology'south a connectedness that tin can be seen in the White House and other state and judicial buildings across America that architecturally mirror ancient Greek and Roman buildings; and in the American political organization that mirrors Athenian Democracy and Roman Republicanism.
In the midst of this vast comparison of the ancient and the American, Lazarus still manages to clearly render America's distinct graphic symbol. It is the can-do spirit of taking those persecuted and poor from effectually the globe and giving them a new opportunity and hope for the future, what she calls "the golden door." It is a uniquely scrappy and compassionate quality that sets Americans apart from the ancients. The relevance of this poem stretches all the way back to the pilgrims fleeing religious persecution in Europe to the controversies surrounding modern immigrants from Mexico and the Heart E. While circumstances today have changed drastically, there is no denying that this open door was part of what made America keen once upon a time. Information technology's the perfect depiction of this quintessential Americanness that makes "The New Colossus" also outstanding.
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8. "Ozymandias" by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
I met a traveler from an antiquarian land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose pout,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the middle that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that jumbo wreck, boundless and bare
The alone and level sands stretch far away."
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Analysis of the Poem
In this winding story within a story within a poem, Shelley paints for us the image of the ruins of a statue of ancient Egyptian king Ozymandias, who is today commonly known equally Ramesses II. This king is still regarded as the greatest and most powerful Egyptian pharaoh. Yet, all that'south left of the statue are his legs, which tell us information technology was huge and impressive; the shattered head and snarling face, which tell us how tyrannical he was; and his inscribed quote hailing the magnificent structures that he built and that take been reduced to dust, which tells u.s. they might not accept been quite equally magnificent as Ozymandias imagined. The paradigm of a dictator-like king whose kingdom is no more creates a palpable irony. But, beyond that there is a perennial lesson well-nigh the inescapable and subversive forces of time, history, and nature. Success, fame, ability, money, health, and prosperity tin simply last so long earlier fading into "lone and level sands."
There are even so more layers of significant here that elevate this into one of the greatest poems. In terms of lost civilizations that bear witness the ephemeralness of human pursuits, at that place is no better example than the Egyptians—who we associate with such dazzling monuments equally the Sphinx and the Cracking Pyramid at Giza (that stands far taller than the Statue of Liberty)—however who completely lost their spectacular language, culture, and culture. If the forces of time, history, and nature can take down the Egyptian culture, it begs the question, "Who's next?" Additionally, Ozymandias is believed to accept been the villainous pharaoh who enslaved the ancient Hebrews and who Moses led the exodus from. If all ordinary pursuits, such as power and fame, are simply dust, what remains, the verse form suggests, are spirituality and morality—embodied by the ancient Hebrew organized religion. If you don't take those then in the long run you lot are a "jumbo wreck." Thus, the perfectly composed scene itself, the Egyptian imagery, and the Biblical backstory convey a perennial message and make this a bang-up verse form.
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7. "Ode on a Grecian Urn" by John Keats (1795-1821)
Thou still unravish'd helpmate of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more than sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the copse, thou canst not leave
Thy vocal, nor ever can those trees exist bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst one thousand kiss,
Though winning almost the goal notwithstanding, exercise not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For e'er wilt yard honey, and she be fair!
Keats'due south own cartoon of the Grecian Urn.
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For always piping songs for e'er new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For always warm and still to be savor'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human being passion far to a higher place,
That leaves a heart loftier-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A called-for forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green chantry, O mysterious priest,
Atomic number 82'st 1000 that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What picayune boondocks by river or body of water shore,
Or mount-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, tin can e'er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease u.s.a. out of thought
As doth eternity: Common cold Pastoral!
When quondam historic period shall this generation waste,
M shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom one thousand say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on globe, and all ye need to know."
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Analysis of the Poem
Equally if in response to Shelley's "Ozymandias," Keats's "Ode on a Grecian Urn" offers a sort of antidote to the inescapable and destructive strength of time. Indeed, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" was published in 1819 just a year or and so after "Ozymandias." The antidote is simple: art. The art on the Grecian urn—which is basically a decorative pot from aboriginal Greece—has survived for thousands of years. While empires rose and brutal, the Grecian urn survived. Musicians, trees, lovers, heifers, and priests all continue dying decade afterward decade and century after century, simply their creative depictions on the Grecian urn live on for what seems eternity.
This realization about the timeless nature of art is non new now nor was it in the 1800s, but Keats has chosen a perfect example since ancient Greek civilisation so famously disappeared into the ages, beingness subsumed by the Romans, and by and large lost until the Renaissance a thousand years later. At present, the ancient Greeks are all certainly dead (similar the male monarch Ozymandias in Shelley's poem) but the Greek fine art and culture live on through Renaissance painters, the Olympic Games, endemic Neoclassical architecture, and, of course, the Grecian urn.
Further, what is depicted on the Grecian urn is a variety of life that makes the otherwise common cold urn feel alive and vibrant. This aliveness is accentuated by Keats'due south barrage of questions and clarion exclamations: "More happy love! more happy, happy dear!" Art, he seems to advise, is more than alive and real than we might imagine. Indeed, the final two lines tin be read every bit the urn itself talking: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." In these profound lines, Keats places us within ignorance, suggesting that what we know on world is limited, merely that artistic beauty, which he has now established is alive, is connected with truth. Thus, we can escape ignorance, humanness, and certain death and arroyo another form of life and truth through the beauty of art. This finer completes the idea that began in Ozymandias and makes this a cracking poem one notch up from its predecessor.
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6. "The Tiger" by William Blake (1757-1827)
Tiger Tiger, burning vivid,
In the forests of the dark;
What immortal manus or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings cartel he aspire?
What the hand, cartel seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat out,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its mortiferous terrors clasp!
When the stars threw downwards their spears
And h2o'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smiling his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb brand thee?
Tiger Tiger called-for vivid,
In the forests of the dark:
What immortal manus or middle,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
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Analysis of the Poem
This poem contemplates a question arising from the idea of cosmos by an intelligent creator. The question is this: If there is a loving, compassionate God or gods who created human being beings and whose nifty powers exceed the comprehension of human beings, as many major religions hold, then why would such a powerful being permit evil into the world. Evil hither is represented by a tiger that might, should you be strolling in the Indian or Chinese wild in the 1700s, accept leapt out and killed you. What would have created such a dangerous and evil animate being? How could it peradventure exist the same divine blacksmith who created a cute harmless fluffy lamb or who created Jesus, as well known as the "Lamb of God" (which the devoutly Christian Blake was probably besides referring to here). To put information technology another way, why would such a divine blacksmith create beautiful innocent children and then also allow such children to be slaughtered. The battery of questions brings this mystery to life with lavish intensity.
Does Blake offering an answer to this question of evil from a practiced God? Information technology would seem not on the surface. Simply, this wouldn't exist a swell poem if information technology were actually that open ended. The answer comes in the way that Blake explains the question. Blake's linguistic communication peels away the mundane earth and offers a expect at the super-reality to which poets are privy. We fly about in "forests of the night" through "distant deeps or skies" looking for where the burn in the tiger's eye was taken from by the Creator. This is the reality of expanded time, space, and perception that Blake so clearly elucidates elsewhere with the lines "To see a world in a grain of sand / And a heaven in a wild bloom, / Concur infinity in the palm of your hand, / And eternity in an 60 minutes" ("Auguries of Innocence"). This indirectly tells united states that the reality that we ordinarily know and perceive is actually bereft, shallow, and deceptive. Where we perceive the injustice of the wild tiger something else entirely may be transpiring. What we ordinarily accept for truth may really be far from it: a thought that is scary, nevertheless also sublime or beautiful—like the beautiful and fearsome tiger. Thus, this poem is great because it concisely and compellingly presents a question that still plagues humanity today, also as a cardinal clue to the answer.
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5. "On His Incomprehension" by John Milton (1608-1674)
When I consider how my calorie-free is spent
Ere half my days in this dark globe and wide,
And that 1 talent which is decease to hibernate
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly enquire. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his ain gifts: who all-time
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him all-time. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And mail o'er state and ocean without balance:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
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Analysis of the Poem
This verse form deals with ane's limitations and shortcomings in life. Everyone has them and Milton'southward incomprehension is a perfect case of this. His eyesight gradually worsened and he became totally blind at the age of 42. This happened after he served in an eminent position nether Oliver Cromwell's revolutionary Puritan government in England. To put it simply, Milton rose to the highest position an English writer might at the time and so sank all the mode downwardly to a state of being unable read or write on his own. How pathetic!
The genius of this verse form comes in the way that Milton transcends the misery he feels. First, he frames himself, not as an individual suffering or lonely, but as a failed servant to the Creator: God. While Milton is disabled, God here is enabled through imagery of a king commanding thousands. This celestial monarch, his ministers and troops, and his kingdom itself are invisible to human eyes anyway, then already Milton has subtly undone much of his failing past subverting the necessity for human vision. More straightforwardly, through the voice of Patience, Milton explains that serving the angelic monarch just requires begetting those hardships, which actually aren't that bad (he calls them "mild") that life has burdened you with (like a "yoke" put on an ox). This grand mission from heaven may be every bit simple as standing and waiting, having patience, and understanding the order of the universe. Thus, this is a great poem considering Milton has not only dispelled sadness over a major shortcoming in life but besides shown how the shortcoming is itself imbued with an extraordinary and uplifting purpose.
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4. "A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
What the heart of the boyfriend said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is expressionless that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was non spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and non sorrow,
Is our destined terminate or way;
But to human action, that each tomorrow
Discover us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and dauntless,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of boxing,
In the campfire of Life,
Be not similar dumb, driven cattle!
Exist a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the expressionless Past bury its dead!
Act,—human action in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can brand our lives sublime,
And, departing, exit behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;—
Footprints, that perhaps some other,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take center again.
Allow usa, then, exist upward and doing,
With a centre for any fate;
Still achieving, nonetheless pursuing,
Learn to labor and to await.
Analysis of the Verse form
In this ix-stanza poem, the first six stanzas are rather vague since each stanza seems to brainstorm a new thought. Instead, the emphasis here is on a feeling rather than a rational train of thought. What feeling? It seems to be a reaction against science, which is focused on calculations ("mournful numbers") and empirical evidence, of which there is no, or very little, to bear witness the existence of the soul. Longfellow lived when the Industrial Revolution was in high gear and the ethics of science, rationality, and reason flourished. From this perspective, the fact that the first six stanzas do not follow a rational train of thought makes perfect sense.
Co-ordinate to the poem, the strength of science seems to restrain one's spirit or soul ("for the soul is dead that slumbers"), lead to inaction and complacency from which we must suspension free ("Deed,—act in the living Present! / Heart within, and God o'erhead!") for lofty purposes such equally Art, Heart, and God before fourth dimension runs out ("Fine art is long, and Fourth dimension is fleeting"). The final three stanzas—which, having broken free from science past this bespeak in the verse form, read more than smoothly—suggest that this acting for lofty purposes tin lead to greatness and can help our fellow human being.
Nosotros might think of the entire poem every bit a blaring call to do great things, however insignificant they may seem in the present and on the empirically appreciable surface. That may mean writing a poem and inbound information technology into a verse competition, when you know the chances of your poem winning are very modest; risking your life for something y'all believe in when you know it is non pop or it is misunderstood; or volunteering for a cause that, although it may seem hopeless, y'all feel is truly important. Thus, the greatness of this poem lies in its power to and so conspicuously prescribe a method for greatness in our modern world.
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3. "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
I wandered lonely every bit a cloud
That floats on loftier o'er vales and hills,
When all at one time I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous equally the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
X grand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly trip the light fantastic toe.
The waves abreast them danced; merely they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oftentimes, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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Analysis of the Poem
Through the narrator's chance see with a field of daffodils by the water, we are presented with the power and beauty of the natural world. It sounds unproblematic enough, but there are several factors that contribute to this poem's greatness. First, the verse form comes at a time when the Western world is industrializing and man feels spiritually lonely in the face of an increasingly godless worldview. This feeling is perfectly harnessed by the depiction of wandering through the wilderness "alone as a cloud" and by the catastrophe scene of the narrator sadly lying on his couch "in vacant or in pensive mood" and finding happiness in confinement. The daffodils then get more than nature; they become a companion and a source of personal joy. 2d, the very simplicity itself of enjoying nature—flowers, trees, the sea, the heaven, the mountains etc.—is perfectly manifested by the simplicity of the poem: the four stanzas just brainstorm with daffodils, describe daffodils, compare daffodils to something else, and terminate on daffodils, respectively. Whatever common reader tin can easily go this poem, as easily equally her or she might enjoy a walk effectually a lake.
Third, Wordsworth has subtly put forwards more than than only an ode to nature here. Every stanza mentions dancing and the tertiary stanza even calls the daffodils "a bear witness." At this time in England, one might have paid money to run across an opera or other performance of high artistic quality. Here, Wordsworth is putting forward the idea that nature tin can offer like joys and fifty-fifty requite you "wealth" instead of taking it from you, undoing the thought that beauty is fastened to earthly coin and social status. This, coupled with the linguistic communication and topic of the poem, which are both relatively attainable to the common man, make for a cracking poem that demonstrates the all-encompassing and accessible nature of beauty and its associates, truth and bliss.
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2. "Holy Sonnet 10: Death, Be Not Proud" by John Donne (1572-1631)
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou fine art non so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die non, poor Death, nor yet canst chiliad kill me.
From residuum and sleep, which just thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; so from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our all-time men with thee practice become,
Residual of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, take chances, kings, and drastic men,
And dost with poison, state of war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make the states sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why slap-up'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall exist no more; Death, thou shalt die.
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Assay of the Poem
Death is a perennial subject of fear and despair. But, this sonnet seems to say that it need not be this way. The highly focused assault on Decease's sense of pride uses a grocery list of rhetorical attacks: First, sleep, which is the closest human experience to death, is actually quite nice. Second, all smashing people die sooner or later and the process of death could be viewed every bit joining them. Third, Death is nether the command of higher authorities such as fate, which controls accidents, and kings, who wage wars; from this perspective, Expiry seems no more than than a pawn in a larger chess game within the universe. Fourth, Expiry must associate with some unsavory characters: "poison, wars, and sickness." Yikes! They must brand unpleasant coworkers! (Y'all can virtually see Donne laughing as he wrote this.) 5th, "poppy and charms" (drugs) can exercise the slumber job as well every bit Death or improve. Death, yous're fired!
The 6th, most compelling, and well-nigh serious reason is that if 1 truly believes in a soul then Expiry is really nothing to worry well-nigh. The soul lives eternally and this explains line 4, when Donne says that Death tin can't kill him. If y'all recognize the subordinate position of the body in the universe and identify more fully with your soul, then you can't be killed in an ordinary sense. Further, this verse form is so not bad because of its universal application. Fright of death is then natural an instinct and Death itself so all-encompassing and inescapable for people, that the spirit of this poem and applicability of it extends to almost any fear or weakness of grapheme that i might accept. Confronting, head on, such a fear or weakness, as Donne has done here, allows human beings to transcend their status and their perception of Decease, more fully perchance than one might through art by itself—as many poets from this top ten list seem to say—since the fine art may or may not survive may or may not be any good, but the intrinsic quality of one's soul lives eternally. Thus, Donne leaves a powerful lesson to learn from: confront what you fear head on and call up that there is cypher to fearfulness on earth if you believe in a soul.
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ane. "Sonnet 18" past William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Shall I compare thee to a summertime's day?
One thousand fine art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds exercise milkshake the darling buds of May,
And summer'southward lease hath all besides short a date:
Former too hot the center of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
Past chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;
Only thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that off-white chiliad ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time k grow'st;
And then long every bit men tin can exhale or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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Assay of the Poem
Basically, the narrator tells someone he esteems highly that this person is ameliorate than a summer's 24-hour interval because a summertime's day is often too hot and likewise windy, and especially because a summer'southward day doesn't last; it must fade away simply every bit people, plants, and animals die. But, this esteemed person does not lose beauty or fade away like a summer's solar day because he or she is eternally preserved in the narrator's ain poetry. "So long lives this, and this gives life to thee" means "This poetry lives long, and this poesy gives life to you."
From a modern perspective this poem might come up off as pompous (assuming the greatness of i'south own poetry), arbitrary (criticizing a summer'southward day upon what seems a whim), and sycophantic (praising someone without substantial evidence). How and so could this peradventure exist number one? Subsequently the bad taste of an old flavour to a modern tongue wears off, we realize that this is the very best of poetry. This is not pompous because Shakespeare actually achieves greatness and creates an eternal poem. It is okay to recognize verse equally great if it is swell and it is okay to recognize an creative hierarchy. In fact, it is admittedly necessary in educating, guiding, and leading others. The attack on a summer'south twenty-four hour period is not capricious. Woven throughout the language is an implicit connexion between homo beings, the natural world ("a summertime'due south twenty-four hour period"), and heaven (the sun is "the centre of heaven"). A comparison of a homo to a summertime'due south day immediately opens the heed to anarchistic possibilities; to spiritual perspectives; to the ethereal realm of poetry and beauty. The unabashed praise for someone without a hint equally to even the gender or accomplishments of the person is not irrational or sycophantic. It is a pure and uncomplicated way of budgeted our relationships with other people, assuming the best. It is a happier manner to live—immediately free from the depression, stress, and cynicism that creeps into our hearts. Thus, this poem is strikingly and refreshingly bold, profound, and uplifting.
Finally, as to the question of overcoming death, fear, and the decay of time, an overarching question in these great poems, Shakespeare adroitly answers them all by skipping the question, suggesting it is of no result. He wields such sublime power that he is unmoved and can instead offer remedy, his verse, at volition to those he sees befitting. How marvelous!
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Source: https://classicalpoets.org/2016/01/07/10-greatest-poems-ever-written/
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