Kenneth Allott (1912–1973)
Autor/a de The Penguin Book of Contemporary Verse
Sobre l'autor
Crèdit de la imatge: University of Liverpool Library
Obres de Kenneth Allott
Poems 1 exemplars
The ventriloquist's doll 1 exemplars
Obres associades
Eighteenth-century prose: 1700-1780 (Pelican books of English prose, vol.3) (1956) — General Editor — 26 exemplars
Etiquetat
Coneixement comú
- Altres noms
- Allott, Kenneth Cyril Bruce (birth name)
- Data de naixement
- 1912-08-29
- Data de defunció
- 1973-05-23
- Gènere
- male
- Nacionalitat
- UK
- Lloc de naixement
- Mountain Ash, Glamorgan, Wales, UK
- Lloc de defunció
- Liverpool, Lancashire, England, UK
- Educació
- University of Durham
University of Oxford - Professions
- scholar of the works of Matthew Arnold
university professor
poet - Relacions
- Allott, Miriam (wife)
- Organitzacions
- University of Liverpool
Membres
Ressenyes
Llistes
Potser també t'agrada
Autors associats
Estadístiques
- Obres
- 10
- També de
- 6
- Membres
- 327
- Popularitat
- #72,482
- Valoració
- 3.5
- Ressenyes
- 3
- ISBN
- 12
I had never heard of most of these poets, but knew the famous ones, of course – W.B. Yeats, Walter de la Mare, James Joyce, D.H. Lawrence, Aldous Huxley, W.H. Auden, Dylan Thomas, Lawrence Durrell (whom I had not realized was a poet but knew from his Alexandria Quartet), Kingsley Amis of Lucky Jim fame, Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath.
Regarding T.S. Eliot, extracts from The Waste Land and Ash Wednesday are included:
From Ash Wednesday:
“ … In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying …
This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.”
(I can’t say I understand this.)
And from the chorus of The Family Reunion:
“In an old house there is always listening, and more is heard than is spoken.
And what is spoken remains in the room, waiting for the future to hear it.
And whatever happens began in the past, and presses hard on the future.
The agony in the curtained bedroom whether of birth or of dying,
Gathers in to itself all the voices of the past, and projects them into the future.
… There is nothing at all to be done about it,
There is nothing to do about anything,
And now it is nearly time for the news
We must listen to the weather report
And the international catastrophes.”
I looked in vain for the poems by Walter de la Mare I had learnt by heart at school. I think one of them was “The listeners”:
“’Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door.”
Also,
“Someone came knocking at my wee, small door”.
(He is interested in knocking at doors.)
I also looked to no avail for Sea Fever by John Masefield:
“I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and a white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face and a grey dawn breaking.”
And Home-Thoughts, From Abroad by Robert Browning.
“Oh, to be in England.
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England – now!”
My Dad, who was also my Headmaster and teacher, loved poetry and got us to learn all these poems and more by heart. But, sadly, none were to be found in this anthology.
To return to the present anthology, it contains two poems by Arthur Waley, whom I did not know. These are translations of Chinese poetry.
The chrysanthemums in the Eastern Garden (Po Chü-i A.D. 812)
“The days of my youth left me long ago… (més)