In Virginia Woolf's "The Lady in the Looking-Glass: A Reflection," Woolf writes on knowing her friend, Isabella Tyson. She opens with the comment that people should not leave mirrors hanging in their rooms "any more than they should leave open cheque books or letters confessin some hideous crime." The idea is that mirrors, or as she uses it as a narrative device to tell of her reflection on Isabella, reveal everything about a person. In the third and fourth paragraph, she tells us the house is empty, and she feels like a hidden researcher, seeing in the house all the natural changes in light and movement because of open doors and windows. She sees through to the outside garden path, and notices that the path is both reflected completely still, as no wind blows, and cut off, "sliced" by the mirror's reflection. Even the noise of the house, and that which comes from outside, does not exist in the reflection. This sounds nearly magical, and the juxtaposition of views in the mirror versus the realities reflects something maybe ominous and unnatural.

Woolf begins to muse on how to "know" Isabella completely, imaging going through her private things to reveal a deeper person than she is ever able to know. It is through this reflection that I also began to imagine what it is to really "know" someone, and realize it is impossible. She studies Isabella in the garden through the mirror, but she is distant and small, hard to make out; this view runs parallel to the idea of not fully understanding someone. It seems as if Isabella has moved into a different world by seeing her leave the house by her reflection, also reinforcing the idea that no one can be fully known. The mirror reminds us that we are only seeing a piece of her life.

Woolf, in contemplating Isabella through the looking glass, looks around the room, and it becomes "more shadowy and symbolic." After discussing Isabella's things and the metaphoric cabinets and drawers that make her up, her physical belongings take on the weight of Isabella's character and of Woolf's intense longing to know her. Maybe the room seems to come alive because only a person's things can know him or her as well as herself because they are imbued with the purpose and understanding of their acquisition, so by studying her things she feels she is studying the person. Even this poses problems, and Woolf is suddenly startled by the view in the mirror being "blotted out." It is the postman, leaving the mail. Looking at the mail gives us the impression of knowing Isabella.

Soon Woolf looks in the mirror to see Isabella returning from the garden. She enters the house and picks up the mail. As she does so, the mirror casts light upon her, and it seems she becomes part of the looking-glass world, frightful and still--"light seemed to fix her; that seemed like some acid to bite off the unessential and superficial and to leave only truth." The reflection of Isabella reveals that she is "perfectly empty," without thoughts or friends, the letters were all bills. She becomes a plain, if not ugly, woman showing her age.
The mirror has stripped her of all character; she was caught in a world (the mirror world) where everything is revealed, and Isabella, alone, is shown to be nothing but a shell. While this may not really be the truth that Woolf is looking for, I am reminded that the mirror offers only a part fo her life, and what is true in the mirror doesn't take into account the entire picture (forgive me). It reflects not only images it catches, but is is also a symbol of Woolf's perception of her. Because she does not know Isabella entirely, then what she sees in the mirror also can not be the whole truth that makes up Isabella.

In "Journey of the Magi," Eliot continues his themes of alienation from one's peers and world. The poem is the story of the magi travelling to meet Jesus, told as a reminiscence by one of the now elderly magi. The poem was written by Eliot upon his conversion and acceptance into the Anglican Church, so it can also be taken as a description of his own spiritual journey.

The poem, a dramatic monologue, begins with the magi describing the journey across a hostile landscape among hostile peoples, "Just the worst time of the year for a journey...the weather sharp...the camel men cursing and grumbling and the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly." By depicting the journey as difficult and full of peril, Eliot describes his own journey. This part of the poem, though, sets up an anticipatory feeling for the end of the trip.

When the magi eventually come to the end of their journey, they come across a "temperate valley," a place of greenery and ample water, marking the transition to a comparative and symbolic paradise. The images of a running stream and a water mill bring to mind the symbology of water as nourishing and life-giving, also in some pagan mythology as a portal, in this case a portal between disbelief and belief, the hard journey to faith and the coming acceptance of that faith. Eliot gives us many symbols of Christian belief, like the three trees in the valley, reminiscent of the three crosses, one of which Jesus was hung upon. At the tavern vine-leaves are carved over the lintel, symbolizing growth, fertility, here possibly the fertility of the spiritual place the magi have come to. Also referenced are "six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver," reminding me of the gambling soldiers under Jesus's cross, and also of silver pieces that Judas received for his betrayal. The one I'm not sure of is the "old white horse (that) galloped away in the meadow. The old white horse could represent a pagan interpretaion of Pegasus, leaving the place where "modern" religion is to be born, further sanctifying the sylvan paradise the magi find themselves in.

It is in the last stanza that we see what the effect of this journey has been on the magi, and so also on Eliot. Though the magi witnessed the Birth of the Savior, and are changed by it spiritually, they question the event as a relationship between Birth and Death. The magi wonders at the purpose of their visit (as does Eliot), asking "were we led all that way for Birth or Death?" Stating that they were led implies destiny in their conversion, but while it has changed them spiritually, they are not fully ready to accept their new lives. Having witnessed the miraculous, they are disenchanted with their previous lives, with the material world and its charms, but still can not immerse themselves fully in the world of the divine. There has been death for them, because their spiritual birth killed their ability to live as pagans, and they return to their old worlds "no longer at ease...with an alien people...I should be glad of another death."
The elderly magi has nothing to do but wait for death because he no longer feels at home among his people.

I wonder if Eliot was ever able to reconcile his life with his faith and achieve some sense of peace from it. The poem is brilliant in its inclusion of subtle symbology and the use of the narrator, who I think shares a lot more than he means to, simply out of the anguish his experience has created in him.

I loved reading Yeat's section, but have always liked reading "Leda and the Swan." I love mythology, and use it frequently in my own writing. The poem relates the rape of Leda by Zeus in swan form. Not depicted in the poem is that she lays eggs and has several children, Helen and Clytemenestra as told us in the footnote, but also Castor and Polydeuces, gods of war, among others. In this depiction, we see how immediate acts can have drastic and long term consequences, and how every action effects future history.

The poem draws the reader immediately into the action--"A sudden blow:the great wings beating still...her thighs carressed...her nape caught in his bill..." The rape remains fresh in our heads, and Yeats emphasizes the brutality of the act in depicting the end: "A shudder in the loins" is as graphic and unromantic as you can get. The "broken wall, the burning roof and tower and Agamemnon dead" refers to future events, the great Trojan War, after returning from which Agamemnon the king was murdered by Clytemenestra, blind prophet and concubine to the king and sister to Helen. The act of rape created world-changing events later on in time. Also, I thought it was brilliant how Yeats was able to describe with immediacy the rape while at the same time distancing it in relation to time.

The poem ends in a question: Did Leda take on Zeus's power and foresee the many and complicated consequences of her attack? The purpose of this is to make the reader ask himself the same question, in that can he consider the future implications of his actions when all is subject to the sweep of time? The answer is probably no, since too many variables exist. But the poem also makes me ask about the role of destiny in our lives--was it destiny that Leda be raped and therefore "engender," or create, the actions of her children in the future? Or could they have chosen differently. Keats wrote in one of his journals that he saw the Trojan war as an event that seperated ancient history from modern history. Without such a break would we still be living in ancient times?

In reading the section on World War I, I learned how advancements in technology changed society. When the War first started, the intro tells us that British leaders joined for idealistic causes, not for money or land, but that this idealism and patrioticism soon changed. Writers both glorified and condemned the war, but also people's attitudes about the war. Because the war lasted so long, it changed their idealism to suspicion. It was marked as a "rupture with the past," which changed everyone's perceptions of their world.

Rupert Brooke was a writer who became known for his patriotic verse. He glorifies the cause of war in "The Soldier," in that the soldier is fighting for a nationalistic cause, for ideals of freedom and peace. Even should the soldier die, one is not to mourn the death, but celebrate the idea and love of England that is carried to a "foreign field." That a piece of England lies in another country should inspire gratitude in the bringing of love of England to that country. Implied is that the soldier is not an individual, but an extension of a romanticized perception of home country. The poem takes a high tone, and was popular probably because it moved people to think in a nationalistic way. To me it sounds like propaganda--get people caught up in an emotion, and in this case, remove the individual from his ghastly circumstance (death in a war), prettify that death, and gloss over the importance of that life for the sake of maintaining support at home.

It is in Sassoon's poems that a more realistic picture of war is written, and in such see the pessimism and suspicion of a world "ruptured" from its past. Sassoon, in "The Glory of Women," details the horrors of war. "You love us when we're heroes, home on leave, or wounded in a mentionable place." Here Sassoon confronts the hypocrisy of those at home who hold in their head an ideal of a soldier, which is more than merely human. People thought that British soldiers were reservoirs of strength and admirable action, but Sassoon says that even they "retire," a euphemism for run scared, when overcome by horror--for which the ideal of a British soldier holds no room. He is talking about how people are caught up in the symbols and idea of adventure of war, but know nothing about the true horror of it, nor want to. He gives us the image of the German mother who doesn't yet know that her son is killed while knitting socks for him, which places the hypocrisy of the general public in their own faces. While they must not sympathize with a German, the image of a mother who will soon realize her son is dead must resonate with anyone as fellow humans.

Because Sassoon's poetry was so anti-war and realistic, it was not well-received by the British public. But the War was going on and on, and the text tells us that in the four years Britain was involved over a million troops died. It was the war, in addition to changes in all aspects of society, that helped to usher in the modernist movement. So we see a world which is drafted in death and struggle, and these themes influenced modern writers.

I had never read any of Hardy's poetry, so this was a great chance to familiarize myself with his further work. Each of the poems presented in this selection had a different verse form, which I found interesting. Maybe using various forms challenged him.

In "Wessex Heights," Hardy contrasts in several places the difference in emotions and thoughts he has between high and low places. When he is on some "heights shaped as if by a kindly hand," he is free to think and contemplate on his life, as "mind-chains do not clank where one's nect neighbor is the sky," but when in the"lowlands", he has no friends, he is "tracked by phantoms," and does not trust himself, as where he writes "Down there I seem to be false to myself." He remembers that he once "fellowed" with some of these people, and now seperates himself from them because they say "harsh heavy things" and "hang about," implying lack of motivation or purpose. The low terrain and towns are symbols of low points in his life.

It is a contrast between himself at a previous time, and himself in the present, as a changing person. He as one who still has growing to do sees his better part watching him, wondering what makes him act so, and calls him his "chrysalis," indicating the holder of transformation for himself. There is a feeling of self-forgiveness here, but he is still weary of his old ways. He talks about seeing ghosts in the town and on the plains, representing people in his past whom he no longer has contact with.

The fact that Wessex was an imaginary place means that the poem can operate on two levels. The terrain of Wessex is also symbolic of his inner world, his thoughts and feelings. He is haunted in the low places, and peaceful in the high places, surrounded by Nature and apart from men. We see here the function of memory in creating one's self. Hardy can not bear to remember the spirits of his past; they cause him distress because he remembers a bad time in his own life, and deals specifically with one whose love was lost to him. He is but a rare and unpreffered thought of hers, and this casting of himself from another perspective further reduces his importance and surety. This rejection also further pushes him away from the world of other men, and more into finding himself by visiting the solitary and nature-focused places of his imagination, where he can contemplate his life and his destiny freely, and find union with nature again, the place where he "was before my birth, and after death may be." His contemplation of better things in the high places becomes synonymous with his oneness with nature and himself.

Reading Hopkin's work was like reading the diary of a severely conflicted man. Overall, he seems to be working to maintain his faith harder than a priest should. As the text tells us he struggled with dissappointment in what he perceived to be a lack of productivity; his "terrible sonnets" deal with this frustration and also with his "spiritual sterility," meaning, I guess, his mixed feelings over his conversion to Catholocism. The poems were also more difficult to read than those we have covered so far, in that he experiments with syntax and crams a lot of ideas together in a seemingly unplanned manner.

Take "Carrion Comfort" for example. Hopkins calls it a sonnet, but it doesn't have the traditional form of one. This is the modern sonnet, experimenting with new forms and dealing with themes of self-doubt instead of love and Nature and beauty.
In this poem, Hopkins is arguing for his rejection of despair. Despair provides false comfort, after all what kind of comfort is found in carrion, besides a unity with death, the giving up of life and purpose? He portrays despair as a beast hunting him, who "scan(s) with darksome devouring eyes my bruised bones?" and taunts him by fanning him as he lies "heaped" by "turns of tempest." He is trying to escape his despair, and states plainly that though it hounds him, he is able to make the choice to reject it: "I'll not...feast on thee...Not untwist...these last strands of man in me." He then outlines this choice with "cry I can no more. I can;" He has enough humanity, or hope, left in him to be able to "not choose not to be."

In the second stanza, he questions why not let despair take over. Why does despair hunt him? Is it just to see him ruined and wasted, like chaff blown away, his "grain" to be wasted in disuse? Hopkins says that he has accepted the bad in the world, and in his life, by kissing the hand that holds the rod, and was able to gain a measure of peace, allowing his heart ot "lap strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer." All these things his heart can do imply that joy is not his, that laughter doesn't come easily. In the last few lines, he doesn't know what his heart would cheer for, be it for God for whom he feels is responsible for his despair, or for himself, who fights the despair--"Cheer whom though? The hero whose heaven-handling flung me, foot trod me? or me that fought him?" He is battling sadness adn hopelessness, and is unsure and confused as to where the battle lays, either within himself or with the God he believes in, but has mixed feelings for.

"The Importance of Being Earnest" is full of Wilde aphorisms!

In keeping with this kick I've gotten on regarding expected behavior roles for the sexes and classes, I decided to read Wilde's play. From the beginning, it's obvious that Wilde is satiring the sexes and classes, and includes some important themes from his aesthete philosophy; for example, in the opening, Algernon states that anyone "can play (piano) accurately-but I play with wonderful expression!" Aesthetes believed art should exist for art's sake alone, not as social commentary. Playing with expression mimics the idealism of aestheticism, as music--the art--should be passionate. Later in the first act, Algernon states that romance is wonderful, but marriage is horrible. Romance is the art of the people, but marriage fails to live up to the ideal.

The play is Wilde's satire on Victorian society's definition of roles for men and women, and the classes. One thing that occurred to me was why Algernon and Jack would create alter egos for themselves, and came to the conclusion that because of the way they were expected to act, they created new people to allow themselves to act more in accordance with their characters. As gentlemen, Jack and Algernon had to create new personalities to escape the stifling expectations of their class status. As Ernest and a friend to Bunbury, both could escape the class structure they were in and engage in near profligate behavior without upsetting their peers with their ungentlemanly actions.

Wilde makes several comments on the shallow nature of Victorian society, and the importance of appearances, which stifled individuals and created an obsession with moving up the social ladder. Gwendolyn says "in matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing (p878)." She says previously that "we live in an age of ideals, (p855). Lady Bracknell, who in the play is the epitome of the Victorian lady--stressing good breeding and manners over everything else--makes several similar observations as well, stating that "we live in an age of surfaces (p881), and stating that Algernon "has nothing, but he looks everything (p882)." These comments reflect the nature of the times. People had to live up to certain ideals, and as long as people behaved "properly" then they could be accepted into society. What they did was unimportant as long as they behaved properly in public. Disregarding this rule was part of Wilde's later downfall.

Wilde also makes fun of the upper class's pursuits. The more leisure time someone had, the better they were presumed to be. When Lady Bracknell is questioning Jack she asks him if he smokes. He answers yes, and she praises his having a decent occupation. Of course the irony is that smoking is not an occupation, but by having so much leisure time, he is deemed "acceptable" (at least so far) as a potential husband. Later on, Algernon makes the comment that it is hard work doing nothing, and he doesn't mind itwhen there is no point to it. Again, we see how Wilde satirizes the upper classes by using irony to show us that the "problem" of the leisure class is working hard to be idle.

Wilde also satirizes the place of women in society, who were deemed as frail, gentle, flighty. When Cecily is taking her lessons, her tutor, Miss Prism, leaves for a walk with the Canon. She tells Cecily to continue reading Political Economy, but tells her to leave off the chapter on the Fall of the Rupee. Cecily can read the book to gain some gerneral knowledge on the subject adn therefore be able to have some genteel conversation, but focusing on specific problems isn't ladylike. Wilde is showing us the ridiculousness of what women were expected to know, as it only served to create meaningless chatter.

The play itself was very well written, and full of ironic statements that challenged the reader (or the viewer) to think about the silliness of the upper classes behavior. I had never read this play before, so it was a very good read to me.

Victorian Gender Roles

In the section on Victorian Ladies and Gentlemen, we are given examples by many writers the ways in which a man and woman should behave. I learned a lot out of these readings, and was surprised at the simple distinction the text makes between who were and were not ladies or gentlemen: "people born into the aristocracy and landed gentry were indisputably ladies and gentlemen; people who worked with their hands...were not." This implies the whole definition of who was best, being those who could afford to engage in leisure activity. In fact, the text tells us that even among the upper classes, there was competition in who could have the most leisure time and do the least amount of work. Even schools emphasized "character over intellect...taught boys how to assimilate manners and customs of those over them socially."
All this work to be without work seems to me like the Victorians got caught up in obsessive cycles of behaviour. being so focused on moving up socially made strict codes of conduct for men and women overly necessary, and people were defined by where they lived, who they visited, or let visit them, what they wore, where they ate, and how they acted over what they were really like. Much of this has carried over into our culture today, but with a more important focus on money, not just the mannerisms of having it.

In Victorian times, there was the carrying on of a huge debate on the place of women. Women had been taught that their virtue was in maintaining the home, reffered to as the domestic sphere. Women's subjugation as house wives and mothers (including their being "unfit" for intellectual and physical pursuits) was justified by some writers, like Sarah Ellis, by telling women that as a gentler and more fair sex they carried the heavy responsibility of maintaining the man's morality. They did this by being "humble monitresses" who by maintaining a clean and orderly home gave the man a place to rest from the wicked and busy world of his business.
Ellis overstates the hardship of men's work adn efforts to maintain a Christian character to increase the importance of women's place in the home. She recommends to ambitious women that they learn the art of conversation if they want more influence, as it keeps men's interest. But she also says that real education--not like the education of Aurora Leigh--is unwomanly and meaningless, in regards to combatting the "growing evils of society", saying that an "increase of intellectual attainments (will not) enable them to assist their brothers, husbands, or their sons in becoming happier and better men." Ellis obviously sticks to her socialization, implying that women who want men's education are frivolous and endangering society by taking away comfort and guidance from a man in need of a "safe haven." She uses a backwards argument to justify women in sticking to the traditionally accepted roles of the time. She says that since women are called on to care for the sick and take care of children, and rarely to translate Latin, what good would education do, since Latin won't help the ill (p559). This argument is shallow, completely disregarding the why of the given situation.

Other women were eager to change the status quo, though this smaller group was written off and ignored for the most part. An interesting exception was Caroline Norton, who strove for women's equality. She wrote the "Letter to the Queen," in which she outlines the lack of rights that women have, like not owning property or having the right to file for divorce or keep their children if the man didn't want the woman to have them. Her protests and her letter helped to get women some rights they didn't have before, like file for custody and divorce, and after her death, own property.

I was also interested to read John Newman's expression of the roles of gentlemen. Those aspiring to this class also had to contend with certain behaviours, which to some degree were contradictory to the typical expectations of "men." In the "Idea of a University: A Definition of a Gentleman," he outlines the social expectations of a gentleman. He had to make everyone around him comfortable, "avoid(ing) whatever may cause a jar or jolt in the minds of with whom he is cast." If he did anything out of the ordinary, or openly argued with another he would lose his position as gentleman through social ostracization. He was expected to be tender and gentle and merciful. He had to avoid topics of conversation that would irritate, so political adn religious debate was probably out of the question. Those aspiring to be gentlemen also struggled with roles typical of men and gentlemen, and had to avoid speaking their minds or acting in a way that was traditionally masculine, at least in regards to standing up for their opinions or physical aggression, a sign of debasement. Having to remain morally "above" other men was also a stressful situation for gentlemen, and they were confined by social expectation nearly as much as women, though obviously women had the short end of the stick.

In the midst of all this social climbing and pretense of refined gentility, lay the heart of Victorian ideals: the civilization of mankind. In order to achieve this civilization, men and women were guided by very strict definitions of behaviour; to try to change those roles or step out of them in any way resulted in loss of that class standing, or at least in being ostracized from their social circles. A person's standing was most important to the Victorians, as we read already, "character over intellect," and behavior over character.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

In EBB's "Aurora Leigh," we get the story of the titled heroin, who struggles to find "artistic and economic independence" in Victorian times, when women were expected to remain meek, docile, adn in the deomestic sphere. In the "Aurora's Education" section, we are given a list of things that women were--and were not--taught. She travels to be with her father, adn is educated accordingly. While she is eager to get more education, the things that she is to learn--and not learn--are things that her father have deemed are proper for a lady, so Aurora is given only enough education to make her aware she wishes to learn more; in actuality, her education is based more on what is not taught, like not being able to speak Italian anymore, or being taught French, but being "kept pure of Balzac and neologism," literature and ideas deemed inappropriate for women. Through this she is taught that she should not desire to learn more, that deep thought is unnecessary for a woman, and is only important for a woman to have a general grasp on various topics, supposedly to help in conversation; furthermore, she being socialized into role expectations through this education.

She is taught that it is only necessary for a woman to know generalizations of various subjects, like learning German, because the teacher liked a range of liberal ed in the languages, and states most specifically--not in books, as if books are useless to ladies. Aurora tells us that she learns a little math and science, but not too much because the teacher "misliked women who were frivolous," as if science and math was not a woman's place and to work in those fields meant a woman was being silly or "frivolous." She learns a list of useless information to her, like the laws of Burma, the difference in feet of different mountains, all because her teacher thinks it important to know "general facts," nevermind they are unimportant. Aurora learns how to do crafts, because it was seen as an 'accomplishment" to "model flowers in wax." How frustrating for Aurora, who is curious and intelligent. It is the ironic way the Aurora shares what she learns and doesn't, and her teachers reasons for learning it, that tell the reader she is unhappy about the quality of her education.

She begins to describe her feelings regarding her education, and the state of women. Women must consign themselves to lives of servitude and acquiessence, being of "particular worth...as long as they stay quiet by the fire and never say no when the world says ay." She skewers the modern interpretation of a woman's virtue as being only good in the home, calling women's virtue as defined by men being only good to "sit and darn, and fatten household sinners," which her teacher holds up as an ideal. Her attitude toward her teacher is also one of irony and disdain. It seems like she can't believe her female teacher is impressing this type of education on her. When she talks about being taught to cross-stitch because her teacher felt that she shouldn't be idle (and apparently leisure reading was not an option), she refers to her instructor as a "shepherdess", though you can tell by her tone and the aside "the pastoral saints be praised for't) that she is being ironic. She calls the tutor's head similar to the "tortoise shell which slew the tragic poet," symbolizing the teacher's destruction of real knowledge.

Aurora finishes this section by stating that men do not appreciate what women do, tedious labor and tasks that dim the eyesight to keep the household running smoothly ("We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull our sight..."), because it is not seen as work by men.

"Aurora Leigh" is a great poem, and especially so in that it was a marked protest against what women should have been like. This poem leads me to my next section, "Victorian gender roles."

Browning wrote in the introduction that the poem came to him as a whole from a dream. I think that such a dream could be viewed as prophecy, the seeing in symbolic terms the effects of the Industrial Revolution on the world, soul, and mind of man, and also as an allegory of man’s separation from Nature, himself, and his spirituality.
The poem is the tale of an untried knight (that’s what “childe” means here), questing for the Dark Tower, though there is no known purpose. The knight is weary and jaded, inviting failure just for the sake of the end of his journey The knight continues through a nightmare world, full of apocalyptic scenery, visions of old friends, and personal battles. The poem is, to me, symbolic of man’s meaninglessness in the modern world. The fact that the knight’s purpose in finding the Dark Tower is not clearly given supports this, and the arid wasteland represents the world, even forgotten by Nature, and the ambiguous ending of the poem further detracts from a sense of purpose.

What the Dark Tower is symbolic of is itself not told to us, as most of the poem is open to interpretation. A tower, mixed with the speaker being a knight, implies to me a stronghold, or castle. Being “dark”, and also being the destination to which so many men previous had died trying to attain, I see it as death (“I had…been writ so many times among the “Band”—to wit, the knights who to the Dark Tower’s search addressed their steps—that to fail just as they…). The poem operates on at least two levels, the world/self and the spiritual.

We know from the first line of the poem that there is something very wrong. The knight tells us of meeting a man, whom he immediately doesn’t trust. The knight tells us that the man watched him “with malicious eye askance to watch the working of his lie on mine.” The old man is giving him directions to the Dark Tower, and the knight thinks he is lying, but I’m not sure what the knight is lying about—maybe his purpose, since he has asked directions. The old man represents dark forces in the world, the destructive and negative side of man, which come to confuse man from a pure purpose. The knight thinks the old man is a trap, put there to deter him from the tower, yet he follows his instructions because he is weary and ready for an end, even if it is failure. He talks of “acquiescingly” turning down the path, without hope or pride “rekindling at the end descried/So much as gladness that some end might be.” The knight knows that he is nothing to the “hoary cripple”, who would write his “epitaph for pastime in the dusty thoroughfare.”

Having already set up an atmosphere of uneasiness and awkwardness, the knight moves down the path of the Dark Tower, already confused and lost, and too weary to care. It is in our world as well that we often follow directions that we feel may be wrong because we are too lost to do different. The world can be confusing and dangerous, and its separation from beauty and nature dulls man’s senses to it, taking away hope. Anyway, the knight is symbolic of man, and his hopeless trek through an apocalyptic landscape represents man’s journey through life, where there is little hope, and must wait only for an end.

The Dark Tower is that end; symbolic of Death, the Tower represents not only the end of life, but the end of everything. Once the knight has decided to go down that path, everything around him changes. He begins the path, and then turns around, and sees that everything has turned to “grey plain all around,” instead of the only recently left crossroads and cripple. Once the knight has lost hope, there is only way for him to go. Yet his lack of understanding of his own search leads him forward; this sense of purposelessness is significant in that it reflects man’s nature. The knight begins to see that his landscape is changing, from crossroads to plain to wasted desert: “I think I never saw such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve.” There are only weeds and thistles. In contemplating his surroundings, personified Nature tells him that this was not her fault, that she can do nothing until Judgment Day when fire cleanses the world. Nature’s defense of herself clearly indicts mankind. Man’s disregard of the world has destroyed the balance of Nature, imprisoning Nature itself; only when mankind is gone and fire has cleansed the world can things come right. The changes in the landscape that Roland encounters are unnatural and broken, mirroring changes in the Industrial landscape, but also showing us the state of Roland’s soul, broken by hopelessness and meaninglessness: “The grass, it grew scant as hair in leprosy,” or the wrathful “black eddy” of the river, the “drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit of mute despair, a suicidal throng.”

Roland closes his eyes to these sights, and looks for memories of happier times. He remembers old friends to fight his loneliness and despair, but in contemplation of them, even they are corrupted, one being lost and another a traitor. The ugliness and loneliness of the wasteland is creating psychological tension for Roland, and it is difficult for him to maintain a sense of purpose (though he never really had one). In this way, the modern world creates tension for us, making it difficult for us as well to maintain purpose. Whether Roland (the modern man) is trapped in his own mind or in Hell, he keeps obsessing on the end of the journey and of failure. He doubts himself tremendously, wishes only that this nightmare would end, and doesn’t believe he’ll find the Dark Tower. The Dark Tower is symbolic of death and in doubting his ability to find it we know that he has given up any hope; his only reason for going on is to find Death. Just as he thought he would never find an end, he is given guidance, by a Demon: “And just as far as ever from the end! Nought in the distance but the evening…At the thought, a great black bird, Apollyon’s bosom friend, sailed past…”. The knight has neared the end of the journey. He describes it unbelievingly, rebuking himself for not seeing it sooner: “Dunce, dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce, after a life spent training for the sight,” and believes it to be a trap, as if “giants at hunting, lay, chin upon hand, to see the game at bay—“now stab and end the creature-to the heft!”

While the knight has nearly reached the end of his journey, there is no joyous revelation of meaning. He comes to the Dark Tower, and there he hears the names fo all those lost in pursuit of the Dark Tower, symbol of Death and worldliness; the cacophony is too much for him. He sees the spirits of those people, lined up to watch him, and there is no reunion. The spirits are seen through a sheet of flame, representing they have been somehow cleansed of the world. These spirits or people are only here to witness his death without interference. Roland puts the horn to his lips and blows, “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.” I think it is relevant that here Browning uses “came” instead of something like “comes,” as it implies, again, that there is no reason for the knight’s long road just to die. “Came” implies his purpose was simply to trudge through the wasteland, to come to the tower, and that’s all. If he’d said “comes” it would mean he has not yet done what it was meant for him to do.

Going back to the cleansed witnesses, we do find that there is hope for Roland’s soul in death, since Nature had told him previously that only fire could release her “prisoners”, so the witnesses in a sheet of flame represent hope for another life. Though the world has taken his hope and purpose, he can find it anew in death. The Dark Tower is symbolic of the world and its traps, a beacon of things physical and worldly.

Tennyson and Ulysses

Tennyson wrote “Ulysses” shortly after his best friend’s death. In the poem we hear Ulysses, home from the Wars for only a short time, speaking of his readiness for new adventure. He begins by saying “It little profits an idle king/by this still hearth, among these barren crags,/match’d with an aged wife I mete and dole/unequal laws unto a savage race.” He feels useless, too old to rule over his wild people; the hearth, recognized as the central area of the home and symbolic of the state of family life is still. It being still, and he an “idle” king, tells us he feels stagnant, that being home makes him feel his age, though throughout the world people love him, respect him, honor him: “cities of men and manners, climates, councils, governments,/myself not least, but honour’d of them all.”

Ulysses is seemingly experiencing an attack of wanderlust, and as he goes on, becomes more and more passionate until he has slipped into the form of rhetoric, a persuasive argument using emotional appeal. If he leaves, his son will take his place; Ulysses describes him as perfect for the job, yet there is condescension in his description—his son is “most blameless…centered in the sphere/Of common duties, decent not to fail/In offices of tenderness…He works his work, I mine.”—in other words, not an adventurer, but more officious. Ulysses implies his “work” was better somehow than what his son could do as a good ruler—which raises questions of whether or not Ulysses himself was a good king. After all, he wanted adventure before, ended up being gone for years, during which—if you’ve read Homer’s “Odyssey,” you know--his friends all died, his family fell apart, and his kingdom nearly did as well. Now, after a short time home, he is ready to shirk his duties and responsibilities yet again. Unfortunately, Ulysses has the heart of a hero, and this makes him selfish; is he responsible, however, for his character? Fate has given him duties, but not the character to carry them out. Like anyone, Ulysses yearns to live the life that he is meant for, and that life has little room for the formalities of Kingship.

Ulysses says that even many lives would not be enough to sate his thirst for adventure, but every moment would be a moment taken away from his time in the afterlife—“Life piled on life/were all too little, and of one to me little remains, but every hour is saved/From that eternal silence…” In his eagerness for adventure, Ulysses is willing to forget the toll his first absence had on his family and kingdom. He is feeling his age, and wants one more adventure before death—“You and I are old; old age hath yet his honor and his toil;/Death closes all: but something ere the end, some work of noble note may yet be done.”

In the last stanza, Ulysses looks out to the sea. We find that it is twilight, that he sees the spirits of his fellow mariners. In speaking to them, Ulysses is inviting his death, and we realize that all the speech beforehand is leading to this point. He is bored, feeling useless, and knows that he is too old for real adventure. The sea issues out voices (the deep/Moans round with many voices) to which Ulysses responds invitingly—he calls his friends ghosts out of the water in which they died, and encourages them to “seek a newer world…to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all western stars…” These references are to places that are imaginatively limitless, mysterious; they offer the thrill of the unknown, and the promise of greatness, though from them no one has ever returned. Underneath this wish to sail is the knowledge that he alone has survived his adventures, and that he could not survive another. His plans for journeying become a journey of the soul, eagerness to let loose of his ennui and sadness and take on the adventure of the unknown. Ulysses is “one equal temper of heroic hearts” and though “made weak by time” has the will to not submit on Death’s terms, but to submit on his own—his body made weak by time, but his will is “not to yield”—he will find adventure even in dying, and even for that, be a hero still.

Dickens and Industrialism

In Dickens’ account of his visit to Newgate Prison, we are reading about the first encounter with the effects of urbanization—the extremely rapid changes in culture combined with the social Darwinism popular in his time. Many people believed at the time that to be poor was reflective of having no morals, not that poverty was the result of a mix of ideals and practices set forth by various Institutions, like law, the church, or education. If you look at whom Dickens sees in the prison, you come across men and women of all ages, but none of high social class (I don’t think there was such a thing as a middle class then, but I could be wrong). It was believed that since the poor were themselves to blame for their condition and criminality, then it was easier to “get rid” of them than rehabilitate, like the fourteen year old condemned for stealing bread; there was very little public aid available then; that which was was for widows and the disabled.

Newgate prison is built in a fairly respectable section of town, along the colleges and marketplace, but all those that pass by it are “utterly unmindful.” The overcrowding of cities has made people disregard that which does not immediately concern them. Instead of knowing your neighbors and helping each other, in the cities, everyone struggles just the same, and if someone else is in trouble, at least it is not you. Dickens’ description of the inside of the prison is that of a bleak fortress, where one is ushered through gate after gate; the sheer size of it alone must be overwhelming. Prisoners are crowded into rooms without any privacy. Both the men’s and women’s rooms were described as light and spacious; the women kept their pottery clean and were provided with texts of scripture; they also were given work to perform, which must have at least made the time go by faster, if not providing some source of self-worth. I was surprised to see no evidence of the men having any work to do. Maybe, because of society’s view on acceptable forms of work for men and women, there was nothing “worthy” for the men to do, despite their prisoner status. This lack of work for men must have surely contributed to their apathy.

When Dickens gets to the boy’s section, he is amazed that many of the boys line up as if they are pleased, or if they had “done something excessively meritorious in getting there at all.” He calls them “hopeless creatures of neglect.” There were uncountable numbers of orphans on the streets in those times, and orphanages were hardly more than workhouses. Again, we see how the overcrowding of cities without proper planning or aid to the poor results in more crime and more prisoners.

When he gets to the section where he describes the prison chapel and “death row,” we get a great idea of the dehumanization and psychological intimidation that inmates went through. The chapel itself is composed of “mean appointments—bare and scanty pulpit…” dingy benches, dusty and damp. Maybe this is the most depressing of all the rooms, because as we read from the testimonies of the two factory worker girls in our text, the people in the prison probably had little or no training in religion. The religion of the State, or of the Rich, had little comfort to give to the poor or condemned, as it was used as justification for not helping the poor. Why should they be interested? Considering that at one time the prison wardens would put those about to be executed in the front pews—specifically labeled for the condemned--next to their own coffins for one last sermon, what spiritual comfort could possibly be derived from such a stark, bleak atmosphere? We see examples of this disregard for religion in the condemned cells, where the Bible evidenced “no tokens of its having been in recent use.”

The combination of industrialization, overcrowding, and attitudes toward the poor—in lack of resources and opportunities—had dehumanized the majority of the population, and also those in power. As Dickens states, “they have entered at once upon the stern realities and miseries of life, and to their better nature it is almost hopeless to appeal.”
Being so many, the masses were a commodity and a hindrance to the upper classes, who viewed them as deserving of their condition.

In Shelley's "Ozymandias," Shelley gives us a poem that is also a departure from the traditional romantic themes we have come across so far. The ruined statue of Ozymandias, a great king of old, lies forgotten in the desert, covered by sand. Shelley was described in the intro as an anarchist and revolutionary, infamous for his intolerance of "kingcraft"; Ozymandias is his statement on what comes of man's pride.

Shelley tells us of meeting a stranger, who tells him about the statue. The first thing the traveller tells us about is the "trunkless legs of stone;" the torso has fallen and vanished beneath the shifting desert sands, maybe telling us that this Ozymandias lacked heart or "guts", or courage. The only clue to his personality is his "visage...whose frown,/and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command" tells us that this king was cruel and arrogant. Shelley tells us that the sculptor "mocked" those "passions" that he included in the king's image, telling us that people do not respect power or the poeple who hold it for power's sake alone. The king was mighty and powerful in his time, but now even his image lies wasted. That we get this image in a tale from someone who is hearing it from someone else further reduces the power that Ozymandias had.

Next we come to his epigraph, an obviously ironic statement: "Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" His works lie in ruins, his name and kingdom forgotten and buried by sand, victims of true power--the power of time, to which humans are insignificant. Human power doesn't last, Shelley is telling us, as time will bury us all, cover us in "lone and level sands". Conversely though, this is not just a statement on those who wield power over others as a weapon, but on anyone, good or bad. If we are all subject to being forgotten, then our works do not matter regardless of what we do.

Keats is one of my favorite Romantic poets, and "La Belle Dame sans Merci" was one of my favorite poems. The first time I read it, in high school, I thought that it was just a "mood" poem about a Siren. It was in further reading that I began to see it on a deeper level, as a story about the danger in living in fantasy, and not accepting reality.

Keats opens with an unknown speaker addressing a knight, who is "loitering" around a hill. He says the knight looks "haggard and woe-begone," describing his physical and mental states. The speaker may or may not be soemone who is simply concerned for the knight. In his statements he offers the knight two choices based on his behavior and appearance: the first is death, symbolized by the "wither'd lake"; the second is life, seeing that "the squirrel's granary is full," or that there is the presence of normal, natural life. We also know that from the footnotes he perceives the knight's melancholy is due to lost love--lily symbol for death and rose for love or beauty. What we find from the knight, however, is that his love was not for a person, or at least a real one, but for the fantasy life that she allowed him to be a part of.

In the knight's telling of his tale, Keats mixes details that are normal to us, and some that are otherworldly, like the knight himself versus the lady, who speaks in "language strange," or the reference to manna which the lady prepared for him, a "miraculous dew" to create a sense of mystery. Keats use of word choice like "a fairy's child", her "elfin grot", reinforce the idea of something imaginary. Also, we can see where the lady, a symbol of fantasy or imagination, has taken control of the knight in the seventh stanza, where the knight switches from use of "I" to "She." In the fifth stanza, the knight has taken her onto his horse, and "nothing else saw all day long; for sideways would she lean...". She is blocking his view of the world, enticing him to accept her enthrallment, which he does.

When he falls asleep with her, he dreams of her previous victims, all "kings, and princes too,/pale warriors..." Keats seems to imply that men of power may live in a fantasy land too, being out of touch with reality, or how real people live. This vision proves terrifying to the knight, and forces him back to a waking state. It is upon waking, though, that the knight seems even more lost. He is not loitering, or merely hanging out, but "sojourn(ing)," implying a stay, again avoiding the real world, but not letting go of his fantasy world either. The trouble is one can not survive in a fantasy; nor can one ignore reality and live. At the end, the knight echoes the lines of the questioner, "That is why I sojourn here/Alone and palely loitering,/Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,/And no birds sing." In doing so, and in using the symbology of the withered lake, the knight is telling us that he has chosen death. He is dying from an inability to let go of his fantasy world, which though deadly to him, explains why he wouldn't leave the hillside after waking; conversely, not leaving the hillside will surely kill him as well because he can not live actively.

Byron, though sometimes difficult to read, has that mysterious something that makes a reader remember and think about what he has to say. His poetry is powerful, and imagery more so.
"She walks in beauty" seems so simple upon first reading, his admiring tone so formal, as such an object of beauty can not be addressed more personally. But we get from this poem a deeper understanding of the mechanics of beauty as seen through the Nature-appreciating attitude of the speaker. The subject of the poem represents divine beauty, surpassing even that beauty which "heaven to gaudy day denies," meaning that she is a balance (all that's best of dark and bright..."). Her beauty comes from her calmness, her "days in goodness spent." I just think it's a great love poem.

In "So, we'll go no more a-roving", we have a writing about sorrow, written when he turned 29. In it, Byron opens by saying that while the world outside has not changed, (the heart be still as loving,/And the moon be still as bright...) something inside the speaker has. In the second stanza, he makes the point that the "soul outwears the breast," like repeated in and out of a sword in the sheath will wear out the sheath, because the sword,like the soul, is made of harder stuff than that which holds it. The "heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest", or it will destroy the body and mind. He seems to be saying that he recognizes his aging, and must rest, or risk running himself down. He ends on a sadder note, that he is giving up on loving, ("though the night was made for loving...we'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon."), perhaps lamenting his womanizing, but definitely lamenting his loss of youth.

If you thought he was depressed at turning 29, read what he wrote when turning 37. He recognizes his age, and his loss of youthful charm, stating "Tis time this heart should be moved/since others it hath ceased to move...My days are in the yellow leaf...The worm, the canker, and the grief/are mine alone!" He wishes that someone would return his affection, seeming almost desperate to be loved and not alone, which we see from the first quote and when he says, "the fire that on my bosom preys/is lone as some volcanic isle." His desire for love has become "a chain" which oppresses him. He changes tone, though, and seems to be giving himself a sad little pep talk, comparing himself and his love life to that of a soldier. He mentions that he was slave to his own passions in his youth, comparing it to the conscription of a soldier with no option of retreat--"The Spartan borne upon his shield,was not more free." He encourages this "soldier", his spirit, to "track down" and destroy his passion, to which he should remain indifferent. He asks why he should live if he regrets his youth, and in keeping with the metaphor of the honorable soldier, decides to choose his place to die willingly. In these last lines you see him becoming more passionate, but less for love and life, and more for ending the pain of loneliness.
There is a lesson here on what happens if you spend your life in affairs--one day you wake up and find that you are alone, and because of your reputation, you remain so.

Regarding Coleridge, I loved the Ancient Mariner; it has always been a favorite of mine. For this blog, however, I wanted to focus on another lesser known poem in the text. "Work without Hope," seems to me to be a great departure from most of the Romantic poems we have read so far. In it, the speaker is a depressed figure, who sees all around him the workings of a new Spring, bees, slugs, and birds leaving their lairs, but being that he is stuck in his depression, or in Winter, is unable to appreciate the beauty growing around him. He contrasts the busy-ness of Nature around him to his own unproductiveness: "And I, the sole unbusy thing, nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing." He is unable to glorify Nature because it reminds him of the stagnancy of his own life--"Bloom, O ye aramanths...for me ye bloom not." The text also mentions that aramanths are an unfading flower, so it seems Coleridge is focusing on his own fading nature, which again, takes him out of the traditional understanding of Nature, as he is disregarding his inner life, which is also unfading.
He is brooding over his attitude of hopelesness, "with lips unbrightened, wreathless brow I stroll." A wreath is usually a symbol of power, so he is lamenting his life as a failure; he addresses the streams in a melancholy query, "Would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?", as if he believes even Nature could not remain so hopeful if it were to experience whatever it is that makes him so hopeless. He ends by saying that just as it is impossible to "draw nectar in a seive," you can't work without hope because hope has to have some place to go or work out to survive.

In Dorothy's poem "Thoughts on My Sick-bed," we listen to her reminisce about her youth, spent joyfully roaming about. However, in thinking about those times, she seems to be wondering if she'd contributed enough to her friends, or to the world. She was eager to grow up and experience life--she mentions "welcoming...the Celandine" a symbol of aging, and "with busy eyes I pierced the lane/In quest of known and unkown things. She talks about being the "companions of nature", though I get the feeling she didn't fully appreciate that because she was so busy looking for experience. Looking back, though, she seems to have a deeper awareness of Nature, and her place in it. She mentions that her friends bring her fresh flowers from her home, and it stirs within her memories of her youth. Though ill, she is full of joy, because memory has given her "Power unfelt before, controlling weakness, langour, pain." That Nature has made her more consciuos, more aware of her place in the world, through memory, gives her strength to wander in the world (through spirit) and away from her ill body, no longer a "prisoner."
We can take a valuable lesson from her--to enjoy the time that we are in, and to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. being conscious and aware of our place in the world gives us great peace and strength, even in the bad times.

I liked all of Wordsworth’s poems, but the Lucy poems stood out to me the most (besides Tintern Alley). In the first, “Strange fits of passion have I known,” he tells us of traveling to Lucy’s home, and creates an atmosphere of languorous daydreaming, backed by the clopping of his horses hooves. “Upon the moon I fix’d my eye,/all over the wide lea;/My horse trudg’d on…”, then mentions the paths, the orchard plot, the hill leading up to Lucy’s house. By focusing on the landmarks and mentioning his horse moving on, “hoof after hoof he rais’d and never stopp’d:” we are lulled into the same dream that the speaker mentions in the fifth stanza. We follow the moon with him, which is slowly descending, and by the time the speaker has reached Lucy’s cottage, the moon is hidden behind it, and he fancies that Lucy has died.
This poem is centered on creating a mood, using the slow progress of the speaker, and the onward trudging of his horse through lea, path, orchard, and hill. Wordsworth gives us the symbol of the moon, which represents Lucy, and its slow descent until hidden from view, being Lucy’s death. Lucy and the moon are one, and he has her in his thoughts through his whole journey.

In the second poem, “Song”, we get an idea of Lucy herself as a lonely woman, “A Maid whom there were none to praise/And very few to love.” She is to Wordsworth a symbol of delicate beauty, barely known (“A Violet by a mossy stone/Half hidden from the Eye). He laments her passing as making a grave difference to him.

In “Three years she grew in sun and shower”, Wordsworth’s love of Nature stands out. Nature has made Lucy a template of the perfect woman, and reclaimed her, through death, to be company to Herself. Lucy has become Spirit, is given new life by Nature, and is made more beautiful, more mysterious, than she could have been in physical life. She attains the “calm of mute insensate things,” grace by the “motions of the storm”, gains stature from good feelings. Wordsworth’s loneliness at the end of the poem--“she died, and left to me/this heath, this calm and quiet scene, the memory of what has been,/and never more will be,” --is tempered by his knowing that she is a part of all things, and that he can be near her anytime simply by going outside. This poem seems to be the one where he has accepted her death.


In “The world is too much with us,” Wordsworth separates the World from the Natural. The World is an entity which decreases Man’s appreciation of Nature. By “Getting and spending, we decrease our powers,” meaning that we dull ourselves, and that we deny God’s inheritance—being one with Nature. He personifies Sea and Wind, so we view them as beings, ones which we ignore and for which we “are out of tune.” this makes Wordsworth sad, and wishes he could see the real spirits of Nature, like Proteus and Triton, to comfort him and place him back in the realm of what he perceives as being most important-the spiritual.

The excerpts we are given by Blake reflect an ironic, contrasting view of life. In Songs of Innocence, he portrays the innocence of young life, as unaware of the perils of the world, though even in many of these poems the characters are surrounded by the realities of the world. Scenes like the children playing in "The Echoing Green" show youth unawares of the natural order, of aging and death, though Blake's symbolism gives us this information. In youth every day must be a joy, a joy we parade in care-free sport. Blake insers into the 3d stanza "the old folk (who) soon they all say/such such were the joys/when we are all girls and boys", making us aware of our own time limit, and foreseeing the lament the portrayed children will one day have of their own lost youth. the children are rounded up at days end, and "sport no more seen," foreshadowing the end of "play" on this world, the "echoing green."

Blake's work in songs of innocence seems to be dual-minded, reflectin on themes of innocence and joy while writing into these happy poems the reality of an unkind world. Looking at "The Little Black Boy", we hear a child relating a story heard from his mother, in which she tells him we are put on this earth so we can "learn to bear the beams of love." She tells him that once we have learned love for one another then we will leave behind the black and white "clouds" that make up our physical appearance and rejoice together in God's love. This is a wonderful sentiment, and the little black boy states that he will shelter the white boy until he has learned love, and in return will win his affection. What Blake puts into the black boy's comments is a worldly view of racism, of which the child himself is unaware. The black boy is innocent of the secondary place he puts himself into in desiring to be seen the same as the white boy, to "be like him and he will then love me." His awareness of difference is there, but as a child he has not had the experience that will destroy his innocence later on.

I like how Blake contrasts views in both books of Songs. Like the contrast of both "The Chimney Sweepers," where in the Songs of Innocence, the sweepers go about their business knowing that even though their work is hard, they will achieve salvation through following their duty. They are ignorant of the fact that they are being abused. In Songs of Experience, however, the sweepers are aware of what an experienced reader of the first poem knows, that the world has taken advantage of the children's naivete--"Because I was happy upon the heath/And smil'd among the winter's snow:/they clothed me in the clothes of death/and taught me to sing the notes of woe." The sweeper is now aware of his abused situation and mortality. In the 3d stanza, the child states that because he sings and dances, the parents think he has no injury, but ignore the fact that he is singing songs of woe. It seems Blake is saying that the world corrupts out of jealousy, and pretends blindness to its own destructive tendencies.

Songs of Innocence is supposed to be a joyous celebration of youth and beauty and innocence, but really reflects youth's naivete of the harder, crueler world. The poems are ironic, since he presents to the reader images and phrases that set the characters up for the upcoming loss of that innocence. In Songs of Experience he merely strips away the veil, and presents the world in it's ugliest form, without the irony or dualism of the first book.Poems like "The Tyger" raise questions of the nature of evil and good, questioning the origins of the tyger, who is presented as a creation of evil, but created by God. So is God evil or ignorant? Is there a purpose or is there only destruction awaiting us all?The intro said that Blake had visions of God and of angels, so I figure he did believe in God, but it is hard to get a grasp on what he thought about God. His work has nothing good to say about the physical world, as it is always a corrupting influence.