For this assignment, you will compare and contrast two works - a poem and a song. I will ask you to post a copy of your song (video if you have it) and your poem in addition to the piece you create, comparing the the two works. I want you to focus on theme, diction, sound, imagery, denotation, connotation, tone shifts, and any other details that are important in relation to the works you chose. Remember each work has its own set of bells and whistles. Some details are more important in one work than they are in another. The two works you pick should be linked in terms of the theme or subject. For example, if I wanted to compare and contrast Poe's famous poem "The Raven" with the song "Haunted" by the contemporary artist Poe, this may work because the subject in both poems relates to how the speaker is "HAUNTED." I will post an old video here of Vincent Price reading Poe's poem "The Raven" in addition to a video created for Poe's "Haunted" song. I will also post the text for both the poem and the song, and I will write a paragraph that critiques the use of diction in both. Please note, though I have written a paragraph, you need to write an entire essay. AS AN ADDED BONUS. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO CONTINUALLY SEEK EXTRA CREDIT: You may make a video using PhotoStory, MovieMaker, or IMovie of your poem or the song you choose. The effort needs to be significant as it will replace your lowest essay grade for the first quarter. NOW, LETS LOOK AT THOSE TWO VIDEOS:
SONG LYRICS - HAUNTED - BY POE
Come here
Pretty please
Can you tell me where I am?
You
Won't you say something?
I need to get my bearings
I'm lost
And the shadows keep on changing
And I'm haunted
By the lives that I have loved
And actions I have hated
I'm haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head
Don't cry
There's always a way
Here in November in this house of leaves
We'll pray
Please, I know it's hard to believe
To see a perfect forest
Through so many splintered trees
You and me
And these shadows keep on changing
And I'm haunted
By the lives that I have loved
And actions I have hated
I'm haunted
By the promises I've made
And others I have broken, I
We're haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head
Hallways... always...
I'll always want you
I'll always need you
I'll always love you
And I will always miss you, ah...
Come here
No I won't say please
One more look at the ghost
Before I'm gonna make it leave
Come here
I got the pieces here
Time to gather up the splinters
Build a casket for my tears
By the hallways in this tiny room
The echo there of me and you
The voices that are carrying this tune
(Father: What is it, Annie?)
(Daughter: You think I'll cry? I won’t cry! My heart will break before I cry!)
(Daughter: I will go mad.)
Come here
Pretty please
Can you tell me where I am?
You
Won't you say something?
I need to get my bearings
I'm lost
And the shadows keep on changing
And I'm haunted
By the lives that I have loved
And actions I have hated
I'm haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head
Don't cry
There's always a way
Here in November in this house of leaves
We'll pray
Please, I know it's hard to believe
To see a perfect forest
Through so many splintered trees
You and me
And these shadows keep on changing
And I'm haunted
By the lives that I have loved
And actions I have hated
I'm haunted
By the promises I've made
And others I have broken, I
We're haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head
Hallways... always...
I'll always want you
I'll always need you
I'll always love you
And I will always miss you, ah...
Come here
No I won't say please
One more look at the ghost
Before I'm gonna make it leave
Come here
I got the pieces here
Time to gather up the splinters
Build a casket for my tears
I'm haunted
By the hallways in this tiny room
The echo there of me and you
The voices that are carrying this tune
(Father: What is it, Annie?)
(Daughter: You think I'll cry? I won’t cry! My heart will break before I cry!)
(Daughter: I will go mad.)
Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912.
Edgar Allan Poe. 1809–1849
84. The Raven
ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'T is some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door; 5
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore, 10
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore:
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 15
"'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door:
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 20
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door:—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 25
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore:"
Merely this and nothing more. 30
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore;
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore: 35
'T is the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, 40
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door:
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,—
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, 45
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore:
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; 50
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 55
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered,
Till I scarcely more than muttered,—"Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore." 60
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore:
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 65
Of 'Never—nevermore.'
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, 70
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 75
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 80
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!"
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! 85
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore:
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 90
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore:
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!" 95
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting:
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! 100
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 105
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor:
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
The Stranger Theme Card
15 years ago
