(This post contains videos of the two poems’ analysis – see bottom of post)

(This post contains videos of the two poems’ analysis – see bottom of post)
Romanticism is one of those terms that seem to mean everything and nothing at the same time.
Poems aren’t easy to read, but if there’s any poetic form that grants both pleasure and closure, it’s probably the sonnet.
Two of the most commonly mixed-up words in the study of English Literature are ‘form’ and ‘structure’.
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s – he takes the lead
In summer luxury, – he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
[…]— On the Grasshopper and Cricket (1884), by John Keats
‘The wind howled in anger’, ‘the trees danced in the wind’, ‘the keyboard said, “are you done with typing already?!”
What do these three phrases share?
If paradox is perplexing and conceit is confusing, then allusion is probably one of the most annoying literary devices out there.
Following our discussion of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, I figured that we should look at a less turbulent and more loving union of literary minds: Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Poets are a hypersensitive bunch.
For many people, colonialism is hard to talk about.
Of all the areas in literary analysis, writing about sound is probably one of the most challenging.