Saturday, September 24, 2011

Keats, the master

St. Agnes' Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. 

Learn from John Keats how to convey images. You can feel the cold from those visuals- an owl, inspite of its feathers. the hare limping through the frozen grass. But the prize goes to the image of the beadsman's frozen breath going towards heaven and his 'numb fingers'. Writers, learn from poets and lyricists the way of evoking a visual with words.

1 comment:

pooja said...

they sketch out verbal takes one to amazing lands.....