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The Ballad Of Father Gilligan by William Butler Yeats (Text and Analysis)

The Ballad Of Father Gilligan by William Butler Yeats The old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day; For half his flock were in their beds, Or under green sods lay. Once, while he nodded on a chair, At the moth-hour of eve, Another poor man sent for him, And he began to grieve. 'I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace, For people die and die'; And after cried he, 'God forgive! My body spake, not I!' He knelt, and leaning on the chair He prayed and fell asleep; And the moth-hour went from the fields, And stars began to peep. They slowly into millions grew, And leaves shook in the wind; And God covered the world with shade, And whispered to mankind. Upon the time of sparrow-chirp When the moths came once more. The old priest Peter Gilligan Stood upright on the floor. 'Mavrone, mavrone! the man has died While I slept on the chair'; He roused his horse out of its sleep, And rode with little care. He rode now as he never rode, By rocky lane and fen; The sick man&#
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Symbolism in Literature

SYMBOLISM                      Symbolism is a literary device that refers to the use of symbols in a literary work. A symbol is something that represents something beyond the literal meaning. A symbol can be a word, object, action, person, animal, bird, event, or concept that embodies and evokes a range of additional meaning and significance.  A strong   symbol   usually gives a bunch of characteristics with whatever it is meant to symbolize or is related to it in some other way.  Some additional key details about symbolism: Symbolism can be very subtle, so it isn't always easy to identify or understand. It can sometimes be difficult to say whether an author  intended  for something to be symbolic or not. Symbolism allows writers to convey things to their readers poetically or indirectly rather than having to say them outright, which can make texts seem more nuanced and complex. Symbolism Pronunciation Here's how to pronounce symbolism:  sim -buh-liz-uhm The term Symbolism bega

A Passer By- Robert Seymour Bridges (Text and Detailed Analysis)

A PASSER BY-  ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West, That fearest nor sea rising, not sky clouding, Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest? Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest. When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling, Wilt thou glide on the blue Pacific, or rest In summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling? I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest, Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air: I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest, And anchor queen of the strange shipping there, Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare; Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capped, grandest Peak, that is over the feathery palms more fair Than thou, so upright, so stately, and still thou standest. And yet, O splendid ship, unhailed and nameless, I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine That thou hast a

OZYMANDIAS- PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (Text and Detailed Analysis)

  OZYMANDIAS- PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias  , King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost (Text and Detailed Analysis)

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening -Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.