"And Never Know the Joy": Sex and the Erotic in English Poetry

Front Cover
C. C. Barfoot
Rodopi, 2006 - 490 pages
"And Never Know the Joy" : Sex and the Erotic in English Poetry promises the reader much to enjoy and to reflect on: riddles and sex games; the grammar of relationships; the cunning psychology of bodily fantasies; sexuality as the ambiguous performance of words; the allure of music and its instruments; the erotics of death and remembrance, are just a few of the initial themes that emerge from the twenty-five articles to be found in this volume, with many an invitation "to seize the day". Reproduction, pregnancy, and fear; discredited and degraded libertines; the ventriloquism of sexual objects; the ease with which men are reduced to impotence by the carnality of women; orgasm and melancholy; erotic mysticism and religious sexuality; the potency and dangers of fruit and flowers; the delights of the recumbent male body and of dancing girls; the fertile ritual use of poetic texts; striptease and revolution; silent women reclaimed as active vessels, are amongst the many engaging topics that emerge out of the ongoing and entertaining scholarly discussion of sex and eroticism in English poetry.

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Contents

16Fahri word final MSpdf
259
17Ballam word final MSpdf
273
18Renske word final MSpdf
287
19Harrison word final MSpdf
303
20Nephie word final MSpdf
317
21Aloi word final MSpdf
337
22Tigges word final MSpdf
357
23Byrne word finalpdf
373

09Mcbride word finalpdf
135
10Lisa word final MSpdf
155
11Marshall word final MSpdf
173
12Lee word final MSpdf
189
13Brass word final MSpdf
207
14Barfoot word final MSpdf
223
15Zangen word final MSpdf
247
24Malcolm word finalpdf
389
25Wolfgang word finalpdf
399
26Notes on Contributors finalpdf
417
27Index final I MSpdf
425
28Index final II MSpdf
465
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Page 213 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit ? ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy...
Page 212 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Page 209 - Dilke on various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason...
Page 242 - First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, . . . Slow to world-greetings, quick with its 'Oh, list,
Page 215 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Page 214 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair: Ah, happy, happy boughs!
Page 242 - I never gave a lock of hair away To a man, Dearest, except this to thee, Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully, I ring out to the full brown length and say
Page 271 - Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate; The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate; Her heart was starving all this while You made it wait.
Page 250 - Laura.' up the garden, 'Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me ; Laura, make much of me: For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.

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