[John Whitworth]

I'll buy that. The whole of Finnegans Wake with none of the pain, Orwn.

[Orwn Acra]

Thanks, John. I really want to like Finnegans Wake but I just can't do it. The idea behind it sounds spectacular, an infinite onion where I can peel away as many layers of language as I like and still never get to the center of it. Endless entertainment! But I quit after 10 pages.

[Philip Quinlan]

Finnegans Wake is a great book to dip into, though - for inspiration or off-beat quotes.

[Holly Martins]

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

A.E. Housman

This must be one of the saddest poems ever written. It's interesting that in such a short poem both 'blue remembered hills' and 'land of lost content' have become (relatively) common phrases.

[Janice D. Soderling]

Thanks, Holly, this is as close to perfection as one can get.

[Philip Quinlan]

Oh yes - AE Housman, how could I have forgotten him?

I wrote a poem dedicated to Housman and it was one I read at my first (one and only) public reading - in, of all places, Much Wenlock in the lovely county of Shropshire. Poetic, ye might say!

Another one for my little list!

Philip

[David Anthony]

It's difficult to discuss the perfect poem without first agreeing on how to define it, which is impossible since poetry is subjective.
However, it's interesting to see people's preferences, and some lovely poems have been posted above.
Here's a favourite of mine:

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats

[David Anthony]

Originally Posted by Holly Martins

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

A.E. Housman

This must be one of the saddest poems ever written. It's interesting that in such a short poem both 'blue remembered hills' and 'land of lost content' have become (relatively) common phrases.

--I think this is, in fact, quite an imperfect poem.
But it is a great one.

[Holly Martins]

That's interesting, David. Tell us why you think the Housman falls down. A poem doesn't have to be wonderful to be perfect. Perfection means there's nothing in the poem you could ever change to make it better. I feel this is the case with several of Housman's poems. Short simple lyrics stand more chance of attaining perfection than long complex poems. 'The Waste Land' is a great poem but it can't be perfect. Byron's 'So we'll go no more a-roving' is perfect but is not as great as 'The Waste Land'. Or is it????

[David Anthony]

Dear Alf,

There's definite promise in this one. It's obviously an early draft and you fall into a few beginner's traps. You are wise to try the workshop experience and we will help you improve.

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:

--Excellent opening image and the Chernobyl allusion is powerful. However, you should avoid archaisms like 'yon' and strive to avoid inversions to achieve a more conversational tone.

What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

--'Blue' hills? If you can see the spires and farms, how can you say it's a far country? 'Those' is obviously rhyme-driven.

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,

--For 'plain' consider 'plainly', which is grammatically correct.


The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

--Good close.

Thus, you might consider:

Into my heart an air that kills
blows from the not very distant country over there:
What are those (green? brown?) remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are they?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plainly,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

Take or leave as you think appropriate.

Welcome to Erato, and good luck in revision.

Best regards,

David