
A FRAGMENT
Farewell the softer hours, Spring's opening blush
And Summer's deeper glow, the shepherd's pipe
Tuned to the murmurs of a weeping spring,
And song of birds, and gay enameled fields,—
Farewell! 'T is now the sickness of the year,
Not to be medicined by the skillful hand.
Pale suns arise that like weak kings behold
Their predecessor's empire moulder from them;
While swift-increasing spreads the black domain
Of melancholy Night;—no more content
With equal sway, her stretching shadows gain
On the bright morn, and cloud the evening sky.
Farewell the careless lingering walk at eve,
Sweet with the breath of kine and new-spread hay;
And slumber on a bank, where the lulled youth,
His head on flowers, delicious languor feels
Creep in the blood. A different season now
Invites a different song. The naked trees
Admit the tempest; rent is Nature's robe;
Fast, fast, the blush of Summer fades away
From her wan cheek, and scarce a flower remains
To deck her bosom; Winter follows close,
Pressing impatient on, and with rude breath
Fans her discoloured tresses. Yet not all
Of grace and beauty from the falling year
Is torn ungenial. Still the taper fir
Lifts its green spire, and the dark holly edged
With gold, and many a strong perennial plant,
Yet cheer the waste: nor does yon knot of oaks
Resign its honours to the infant blast.
This is the time, and these the solemn walks,
When inspiration rushes o'er the soul
Sudden, as through the grove the rustling breeze.

I have written 2,352 words on Barbauld before adding biography sprinkles, then rewriting it a little bit more 'academically' (it is a bit 'ABC Barbauld' at the moment). Then I have to signpost it a bit more obviously and then pare back to arround the 2,200 mark.
I am a bit perplexed at my writing commitment - originally I would read/note-take in the moring and write in the afternoon. These days, I am busy running around Hubby (nurse appointments), college, uni and then finding a burst of hyperbole about 9 o'clock at night, lasting to about now. I am hoping to get this dusted by Sunday evening, get the lecturer's advice for both The Yellow Wallpaper and Anna Barbauld, then maybe hand it in - leaving me with Post Modernism to do and the ILS/IAS to do.
I am knackered already and have less than three weeks :-/
I am a bit perplexed at my writing commitment - originally I would read/note-take in the moring and write in the afternoon. These days, I am busy running around Hubby (nurse appointments), college, uni and then finding a burst of hyperbole about 9 o'clock at night, lasting to about now. I am hoping to get this dusted by Sunday evening, get the lecturer's advice for both The Yellow Wallpaper and Anna Barbauld, then maybe hand it in - leaving me with Post Modernism to do and the ILS/IAS to do.
I am knackered already and have less than three weeks :-/
Anna Laetitia Barbauld - Day 3
May. 11th, 2015 07:03 pm
I am doing a lot better on this assignment than I previously thought - the first half is over 1,100 and I plan to finish that tonight. Second half hopefully will be tomorrow and then off to the Mothership for the day. Thursday will be the day that I will make a brave attempt to understand Post modernism. Meanwhile - onward!
20:47
2,256 altogether and I haven't begun to truly expand the Beauty of Insects as yet. It does help to write them as two separate essays, then mesh them together. I have got at least another 244 words before I am over the limit, but will work til I have completed it, then judicial paring back.
Right now, I am done. 24 days left before the hammer falls - yikes!!!
Anna Laetitia Barbauld - Day 2
May. 10th, 2015 02:36 pm
Not sure if I entirely agree with Barbauld on this - we are united by the emotions we express as humans, but pretty insular when crying or praying (or however you communicate with the Divine if your preferences are that way). Maybe we unite more when we find joy. Will ponder on that another time.
Alas, I a really late to the desk and already find fault, viewing yesterdays work with todays eyes. I am going to have to signpost this a bit better i.e. keep my eye on the task and discuss Barbauld's influence on the Romantics.
20:40
1,703 - not a lot for today, just trying to concentrate on the soundscapes - all those fricatives and plosives etc. Eyes are crossed - think I am done for now, but aware that I have tons to do over the next few days. Plus I have to book a train ticket to Plymouth for this Wednesday. Going to trick myself that I am going to Hogwarts hahaha.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld - It Begins
May. 9th, 2015 02:41 pm
A neat quote, however I would settle for notion of thought at 14:45 of a Saturday afternoon. I have started this already because I have kicked Postmodernism to the kerb for a while. I can't afford to stare blankly at a screen for too long, when I could be doing something that I understand and leave that bloody subject for last. I even nostagically yearn for Bluebeard (due to start again in a week or so).
Problem is, I am not sure what indeed Barbauld contributed to the Romantic movements - some stunning poetry, yes and the fact she was a teacher for a long time (an interesting feat back in the late 18th c to early 19th c). Is there anything else that I could possibly wax lyrical about alongside a couple of lovely poems (I especially love her 'Beauty of Insects' one)?
I have turned off all forum activity and am back to Classic Fm and White Noise. I maybe gone for some time.
21:12
Well, I havve managed to get this up to 1,356 words from a mere 569, so I am on the right track. Tomorrow, I will expand re the Autumn poem, then move onto the Beauty of Insects
Time for Inspector Montalbano - Fazio è abbastanza carino - mi chiedo se dovrei imparare l'italiano?
Calico_Pye - 0
May. 3rd, 2015 11:05 pm
Today sucked - our phone line is playing up again and I either have intermittent or nada internet. Pain in the ass, as reading Baudrillard or McLuhan pdf files online requires me To. Be. On. Line. If I printed the lot off, I would've sacrificed a chunk of the Amazon rain forrest. Talking of Amazon, I have had to order said books from said warehouse, so I can quote chapter and verse without TalkTalk pulling the plug.
Saying than, I have typed 1,000 words today - because of the cockups, I stopped writing one assignment and started on the Anna Barbauld one. Still feel like there has been little progress.
Saying than, I have typed 1,000 words today - because of the cockups, I stopped writing one assignment and started on the Anna Barbauld one. Still feel like there has been little progress.

The Moon says My names is Moon; I shine to give you light when the sun is set.
I am very beautiful and white like silver.
You may look at me always, for I am not so bright as to dazzle your eyes,
and I never scorch you. I am mild and gentle.
I let even the little glow-worms shine, which are quite dark by day.
The stars shine all round me, but I am larger and brighter than the stars,
and I look like a large pearl amongst a great many small sparkling diamonds.
When you are asleep I shine through your curtains with your gentle beams,
and I say Sleep on, poor little tired boy, I will not disturb you.
Anna Barbauld