Ha, I totally remember this poem from high school English....senior year I believe. yeah, Blake and that tiger poem. The poems that I really love are Shakespeare's sonnets. I have a book that's has all of his works in one volume. I think I bought it at Barnes and Noble for $12.99. It's got one of those guilded binders and such. Looks great on the shelf. Favorite sonnet is probably "How shall I compare thee to a summer's day (or something like that)". He's written some great stuff....sometimes a bit tough to decifer since it's written in middle English, but once you get it, man, it's such an "aha" moment. Like truth and light all of the sudden shower you with enlightenment.Small correction, if I may: Shakespeare did not write in "Middle English"... he used what we now call "Early Modern English" (the King James Version of the Bible is another example of Early Modern English).Middle English is what Chaucer wrote in... for example:Whan that aprill with his shoures sooteThe droghte of march hath perced to the roote,And bathed every veyne in swich licourOf which vertu engendred is the flour;Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breethInspired hath in every holt and heethTendre croppes, and the yonge sonneHath in the ram his halve cours yronne,And smale foweles maken melodye,That slepen al the nyght with open ye(so priketh hem nature in hir corages);Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;And specially from every shires endeOf engelond to caunterbury they wende,The hooly blisful martir for to seke,That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.Bifil that in that seson on a day,In southwerk at the tabard as I layRedy to wenden on my pilgrymageTo caunterbury with ful devout corage,At nyght was come into that hostelryeWel nyne and twenty in a compaignye,Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalleIn felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,That toward caunterbury wolden ryde.The chambres and the stables weren wyde,And wel we weren esed atte beste.And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,So hadde I spoken with hem everichonThat I was of hir felaweshipe anon,And made forward erly for to ryse,To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse.But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,Er that I ferther in this tale pace,Me thynketh it acordaunt to resounTo telle yow al the condiciounOf ech of hem, so as it semed me,And whiche they weren, and of what degree,And eek in what array that they were inne;And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.
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