Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FISH, THE MAN, AND THE SPIRIT (COMPLETE), by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: You strange, astonished-looking, angle-faced Last Line: Quicken'd with touches of transporting fear. Alternate Author Name(s): Hunt, Leigh Variant Title(s): Three Sonnets Subject(s): Fish & Fishing; Sea; Anglers; Ocean | ||||||||
To Fish You strange, astonish'd-looking, angle-faced, Dreary-mouth'd, gaping wretches of the sea, Gulping salt-water everlastingly, Cold-blooded, though with red your blood be graced, And mute, though dwellers in the roaring waste; And you, all shapes beside, that fishy be, -- Some round, some flat, some long, all devilry, Legless, unloving, infamously chaste: -- O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights, What is't ye do? what life lead? eh, dull goggles? How do ye vary your vile days and nights? How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes and bites, And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles? A Fish Answers Amazing monster! that, for aught I know, With the first sight of thee didst make our race Forever stare! O flat and shocking face, Grimly divided from the breast below! Thou that on dry land horribly dost go With a split body and most ridiculous pace, Prong after prong, disgracer of all grace, Long-useless-finned, hair'd, upright, unwet, slow! O breather of unbreathable, sword-sharp air, How canst exist? How bear thyself, thou dry And dreary sloth? What particle canst share Of the only blessed life, the watery? I sometimes see of ye an actual pair Go by! link's fin by fin! most odiously. The Fish turns into a Man, and then into a Spirit, and again speaks Indulge thy smiling scorn, if smiling still, O man! and loathe, but with a sort of love: For difference must its use by difference prove, And, in sweet clang, the spheres with music fill. One of the spirits am I, that at his will Live in whate'er has life -- fish, eagle, dove -- No hate, no pride, beneath nought, nor above, A visitor of the rounds of God's sweet skill. Man's life is warm, glad, sad, 'twixt loves and graves, Boundless in hope, honour'd with pangs austere, Heaven-gazing; and his angel-wings he craves: The fish is swift, small-needing, vague yet clear, A cold, sweet, silver life, wrapp'd in round waves, Quicken'd with touches of transporting fear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALL OF OCEAN LIFE by JOHN HOLLANDER JULY FOURTH BY THE OCEAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE FIGUREHEAD by LEONIE ADAMS ABOU BEN ADHEM by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT |
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