My professor for "Romantic Poetry and Prose" in my second year of university (waayyy back in the day), was one of the top three teachers I have had in my life.
He would pepper his classes with interesting facts about the times in which the writers about which we were learning, lived (did you know that they believed that barnacle geese grew on trees?)
Every one of his classes was riveting. He was erudite, articulate, passionate, and kind.
So. When we started in on Keats, he gave a biographical blurb about him, and then said:
"Keats' poetry is sloppy."
<pause>
"But it's glorious."
I've never forgotten that moment, from that day 'til this. The light in his eyes, the way the word "glorious" rolled off of his tongue - a slight lengthening of the alveolar "L" in glorious.
My professor for "Romantic Poetry and Prose" in my second year of university (waayyy back in the day), was one of the top three teachers I have had in my life.
He would pepper his classes with interesting facts about the times in which the writers about which we were learning, lived (did you know that they believed that barnacle geese grew on trees?)
Every one of his classes was riveting. He was erudite, articulate, passionate, and kind.
So. When we started in on Keats, he gave a biographical blurb about him, and then said:
"Keats' poetry is sloppy."
<pause>
"But it's glorious."
I've never forgotten that moment, from that day 'til this. The light in his eyes, the way the word "glorious" rolled off of his tongue - a slight lengthening of the alveolar "L" in glorious.