Excelsior!

[SyntaxHeir]

Here's my favorite poem. I find it inspiring and I can relate to the protagonist. I'd like to hear what you think and maybe read some of your favorites if you're so inclined to post them.

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!

"Try not the Pass!" the old man said:
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!

"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
Excelsior!

"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!

At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!

A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

[SyntaxHeir]

Longfellow's usage of the word device is uncommon today, in so much I actually looked up the definition looking for alternative usage. Here's what I found.

De-vice

N.

3. A literary contrivance, such as parallelism or personification, used to achieve a particular effect.

4. A decorative design, figure, or pattern, as one used in embroidery. See Synonyms at figure.

5. A graphic symbol or motto, especially in heraldry.

The subject in this poem has a goal which burns inside him. It's obvious from the reading other people he encounters seldom understand his purpose and often consider it folly. Yet he presses onward giving little ground to their reins and it ultimately consumes him.

We can infer little as to his condition when found, other than he has died in the snow. However, I like to think he was found with a peaceful countenance, maybe even a smile.

Our hero has followed his own vision, marched under his own banner and pursued his own glory to whatever end it would lead him. I cannot think of any better way to go.

I would like it if this poem was read at my funeral. Just not anytime soon. http://syntaxheir.org/phpbb2/images/smiles/icon_wink.gif

[TreeFrog]

I dont mean to stop the flow here but I'm not sure I understand the word Excelsior

I did a quick check and found this :
Slender, curved wood shavings used especially for packing.

Please enlighten me.

[Rikku]

It means an elite user of Micorsoft Excel :D

[Kitz E Kat]

From the latin words : ex = beyond and celcus = lofty , if you take lofty as meaning nobility , then it's beyond nobility.

I think :-)

[Daremo]

How literate of you Kitz....However ex also means 'from' Such as fabled Excalibur, which means 'Freed from the stone". Therefore excelsior can also mean 'From Nobility' or 'From the heights'. It can also mean 'From Heaven' or 'Beyond Heaven' if one takes certain literary license with the latin.

[Kitz E Kat]

"From Heaven" kinda fit's the bill.


Me and poetry never really got on that well!

[SyntaxHeir]

I have a slightly different interpretation of Excelsior. Even prior to reading Kitz's Latin translation I thought Excelsior meant "higher", "beyond" and "lofty" are somewhat synonymous.

I see two different ways in which we can interpret Longfellow's message.
One may read the passage and see it has a warning for those who would work too hard to receive "the next promotion" or "more money" or strive too hard to keep up with the Joneses. Our hero ignored the maid and the sage and ended up dying alone on a mountainside.

I prefer to see it as an allegory for over-achievers. If we truly want something there are certain compromises we have to make and certain things we must give up in the name of our ultimate goal. [i.e. forsaking the maid and the conventional wisdom of the sage.] The way this poem ends can serve as a reminder, success does not always follow sacrifice but without sacrifice one my never know their true potential for success.

The banner with the strange device, is a metaphor for whatever drives us, it's a symbol of our ambition, even if others have differing views or priorities.

It's "Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes."
It's a persistent march toward an objective.
It's an indomitable spirit and a will to reach beyond our current lot for something greater.
It's the ability of a man to elevate his life by his own conscious endeavor.

Furthermore, it's doggone stinkin' motivating!

Go back and read it again, and replace Excelsior with "higher!" or "beyond!" and see if it carries a different meaning.

I see the protagonist as being the best kind of malcontent for the status quo. He's not happy to sit about and be idle. If you look at it from that point of view he's got more than a few "hacker" qualities.

Carry on my wayward son. Excelsior!

[Daremo]

Quite interesting, Syntax, But I have an almost diametrically opposed view to the poem. This perhaps shows Longfellow's genius.

I see it as one who is called 'From Heaven'. A Paladin on a quest who can stop neither for reasons of personal safety, comfort or even to have a family and life of his own. He is 'called' and is duty bound to answer, no matter the peril or cost. This why his reply to all temptation to sway him from his duty.

As you, I also identify with the hero. After years in the Corps I see our military as those who stand in the twilight, facing the darkness so that others may live in the light. I firmly believe in duty, honor and the protection of society above one's own safety.

I see this hero as one called to duty and one who goes even though it means his death. At the end, he has his reward. When you read this poem you almost hear the strains of 'The Impossible Dream'.

[Kitz E Kat]

Ok, read it again, while looking at ARP packets, just got my switch i'm busy here :-)
I am gonna stick with my "beyond nobility" , he was not just noble in his intent , he was "beyond" that. To be noble is one thing , this guy was well beyond that .....

Any takers ?

[SyntaxHeir]

Firstly I'd like to say how pleasing it is to have such thought provoking discussion.

Secondly, I don't think duty and ambition are diametrically opposed. Duty is an extrinsic motivator, ambition is an intrinsic motivator. Different means to the same end. One is pulled, the other pushed. Better yet one is lead and the other is driven. Neither the Paladin nor the Rebel will stop short of their objective the only difference is the motivating force behind them.

[I'm using Rebel here as the personification of malcontent, neither of which are pejoratives in my opinion.]

Kitz your "beyond nobility" position would seem to fall inline with the "Paladin" idea. At the same time, given the proper purpose I see rebels as being rather noble in their own right. I can think of many "beyond noble" rebels that could rival a Paladin's dedication to duty.

Thomas Jefferson
Martin Luther King
Galileo Galilei
Rosa Parks
That fellow staring down a half dozen tanks in Tiananmen Square
Patrick Henry
Luke-friggin-Skywalker!
even Fidel Castro in his early years

[SyntaxHeir]

Just read the lyrics to "The Impossible Dream". I'd never heard of it before. Remarkable parallels can be drawn between these two pieces. Nice pull D!

[Kitz E Kat]

Duty is driven by ambition .
Ambition is driven by duty .

[SyntaxHeir]

Hmmm... that contradicts my intrinsic/extrinsic theory. To each his own I suppose. Care to expound upon that Kitz?

[TreeFrog]

!!??##^%"
I'm using one of those keyboards with the power button under the delete key. I had trained myself not to touch it but every now and then, and usually just after writing something I !??!!##~~£% press it..
Out it comes with a sharp object after I rewrite this..

So I reread it and I get something else.
It is not totally different to you guys and I would not argue with your takes at all.
I see Excelsior as being a higher reaching. "reach up" even. Like a statment.
But not just for himself.
He says Excelsior out to others as well.
I see a reaching for more than material or even generally accepted spiritual goals. Perhaps an enlightenment that is worth living for and therefore worth dieing for.

He is on perhaps but a small part of the path and would like someone to be brave enough to continue on. He would not ask for this because it has to be wanted by that person. If he is the last to try then so be it but if not then the flag is there waiting.
That flag of reaching up and above, beyond, toward heaven etc is for anyone who has the strength and passion and interest to move enlightenment, perhaps for all the people, further up the cold mountain.

I have often heard people say about others " So and so thinks they are so much better than everyone else" and I see there is something to be said against being arrogant but there should be something also said for wanting to be better. Even better than everyone else.
The difference may lie in that the not so arrogant would wish that others would have the chance to be better as well.

That is my take on it. Not so different.

[Kitz E Kat]

Hmmm... that contradicts my intrinsic/extrinsic theory. To each his own I suppose. Care to expound upon that Kitz?

Tis simple Syntax !
Duty is driven by ambition , you have a sense of duty , your ambition is to fullfill your duty !

Ambition is driven by duty, duty to yourself, to succeed in your ambition !

You can do fun thing's with words :-)

[SyntaxHeir]

Outstanding post TreeFrog. I like your ideas about balancing pride and arrogance. Acheiving something great is something to be proud of but flaunting it is taking it too far. So maybe by simply exclaiming "Excelsior!" and nothing more he is trying to inspire rather than harangue.


Duty is driven by ambition , you have a sense of duty , your ambition is to fullfill your duty !

Ambition is driven by duty, duty to yourself, to succeed in your ambition !


Okay so if we say that duty comes from some external force, we in turn find the ambition to fulfill the duty assigned to us. This brings to mind images of a welcomed burden or chore, a labor of love if you will.

If we say that ambition comes from within, we then take duty upon ourselves to fulfill our goals. This reminds me of inspiration or ardor.

I think I can see where you're coming from.

[=BB=]

Sorry to arrive a bit late in this thread. I am not a huge Longfellow fan, but there is one poem of his that I do admire:

Ultima Thule (The Chamber over the Gate)

Is it so far from thee
Thou canst no longer see,
In the Chamber over the Gate,
That old man desolate,
Weeping and wailing sore
For his son, who is no more?
O Absalom, my son!


Is it so long ago
That cry of human woe
From the walled city came,
Calling on his dear name,
That it has died away
In the distance of to-day?
O Absalom, my son!


There is no far or near,
There is neither there nor here,
There is neither soon nor late,
In that Chamber over the Gate,
Nor any long ago
To that cry of human woe,
O Absalom, my son!


From the ages that are past
The voice sounds like a blast,
Over seas that wreck and drown,
Over tumult of traffic and town;
And from ages yet to be
Come the echoes back to me,
O Absalom, my son!


Somewhere at every hour
The watchman on the tower
Looks forth, and sees the fleet
Approach of the hurrying feet
Of messengers, that bear
The tidings of despair.
O Absalom, my son!


He goes forth from the door
Who shall return no more.
With him our joy departs;
The light goes out in our hearts;
In the Chamber over the Gate
We sit disconsolate.
O Absalom, my son!


That 't is a common grief
Bringeth but slight relief;
Ours is the bitterest loss,
Ours is the heaviest cross;
And forever the cry will be
"Would God I had died for thee,
O Absalom, my son!"

While most of Longfellow's stuff isn't as ordinary as "Excelsior" (sorry),the aspects that made him so popular once are the things that guarantee he'll never have a very high literary reputation again. Longfellow was a "public" poet; not to say that he never expressed his own true feelings, but he was almost always trying to universalize his feelings, to say things that would resonate with his public. And as a "public" writer, he was writing to be understood by the average reader, which meant pretty simple language(which can make his poems seem strangely close to Hallmark greeting-cards). At his best, his style was direct and strong, as in the above poem that is probably held the highest regard today, The Chamber Over The Gate.

Among more modern poets I enjoy Philips Larkin, Charles Bukowski and Thom Gunn.

Thanks for this cool thread :D Cheers!

[Kitz E Kat]

Good things do happen around here :-)
Actually the only poet i could ever read was Brecht , he made sense.
I am off to bed !
Good luck all :-)

[SyntaxHeir]

Welcome back =BB=.

Are we to assume King David is the speaker in this poem and during Absalom's insurrection he was inprisoned in "The Chamber over the Gate"?

Followling this thinking it appears toward the end King David, while performing his duty of defending his kingdom, loses something he valued more than the kingdom itself. Thusly, placing David in the unenviable position of having to decide between his own life [metaphorically] and his son's life [literaly] and given the haste with which one must make decisions during a revolt David wasn't afforded the luxury of deliberating and was forced into making a decision he didn't have time to regret.

Unless of course this isn't about King David then the above is all nonsense. :)

So =BB= you're saying Longfellow was a poet for the people and he wrote what he thought the people would like not necessarily what was important to him. Does that make him an early version of the "sellout" muscians we have today?

I'm pretty new at this whole "poetry and literature" stuff anyway so maybe Longfellow is "Poetry for Newbies."[TM] Which is fine by me.

Poetic Idol?

Dial 216.112.221.98 to vote for Longfellow now!

[=BB=]

Hey, SH, thanks again for this thread -kinda Poetry Corner, eh? What I do like about Longfellow's "Excelsior" was the illustrated version James Thurber did. Maybe I can post some of the illustrations in this thread:
http://www.flicklives.com/Glossary/Excelsior/exc1.jpg

and . .

http://www.flicklives.com/Glossary/Excelsior/exc2.jpg


is this too much? one more example and the rest later, ok?
http://www.flicklives.com/Glossary/Excelsior/exc3.jpg

You get the idea . . it was a typical Thurber send up. Will post a poem by Philip Larkin that my daughter memorized and delivered to her grade three class . . fortunately her teacher was hip and favourably impressed, whew!

This Be The Verse

(http://www.tetrameter.com/larkin.htm#This%20Be%20The%20Verse) They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you. But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats. Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself. --Philip Larkin (1974)

Big Cheers :D!

[Daremo]

This is quite interesting. Having pictures with the poem totally destroys the poem for me. The mental imagery that Syntax and I were discussing is completely removed for me by seeing an illustration with the stanza.

The reader is now locked into the supplied imagery. Even if the poem had serious illustrations rather than Thurber's distinctive yet simplistic cartoony style, it would still lock the user into seeing that image and thus that interpretation of the poem.

If a child read this poem for the first time with images suggesting Syntax's interpretation and another child had illustrations suggesting my version, do you think they could then easily be able to discuss and mentally 'see' the others version or would they insist that the one they read was the 'right' one?

=BB=, you have just accidently pointed out that illustrations can dramatically and seriously not only detract from a poem, but actually keep a person from being able to 'see' different things from the same words. =BB=, while you may be a person who likes posting pictures, this really shows how limiting and damaging some illustrations can be. While, in some cases, a picture can actually be instructive, in the case of literature it can be quite restrictive and even harmful to a persons mental growth by keeping them from supplying an interpretation of their own.

[=BB=]

This is quite interesting. Having pictures with the poem totally destroys the poem for me. The mental imagery that Syntax and I were discussing is completely removed for me by seeing an illustration with the stanza.

The reader is now locked into the supplied imagery. Even if the poem had serious illustrations rather than Thurber's distinctive yet simplistic cartoony style, it would still lock the user into seeing that image and thus that interpretation of the poem.

If a child read this poem for the first time with images suggesting Syntax's interpretation and another child had illustrations suggesting my version, do you think they could then easily be able to discuss and mentally 'see' the others version or would they insist that the one they read was the 'right' one?

=BB=, you have just accidently pointed out that illustrations can dramatically and seriously not only detract from a poem, but actually keep a person from being able to 'see' different things from the same words. =BB=, while you may be a person who likes posting pictures, this really shows how limiting and damaging some illustrations can be. While, in some cases, a picture can actually be instructive, in the case of literature it can be quite restrictive and even harmful to a persons mental growth by keeping them from supplying an interpretation of their own.

Well sure, you could look at it that way, or you could say that James Thurber saved a rather thin and tedious poem that had fallen into disfavour long ago, from oblivion by tickling our funny bones. Or you could think that a child might actually be bothered to read the thing because it at least has the virtue of being comically illustrated.

Of course it is nonsense to talk about how much better this board, and by extension the world, would be if there just weren't so many things to see - radio versus TV, etc. I can enjoy both . . sometimes it's nice to just close your eyes and imagine how things might be, other times it is fun and helpful to see the odd picture. Different strokes . .

illustrated cheers!

[Kitz E Kat]

Ever read a book and then go see the movie of it ? Usually it's not even close to what you had in your mind.
However the opossite can apply also , in the case of a painting, sometime's the artist's interpretation can be quite different to what i would see.

[Kitz E Kat]

Actually =BB= you have skillfully avoided the original debate !
The meaning of "Excelsior" !

What's your take on it ?

[=BB=]

James Thurber may have contributed to the downfall of Longfellow when he included"Excelsior" in "Great Poems Illustrated," where he took over-familiar poems that kids were forced to memorize in school, and sent them up by drawing the characters as Thurber men and Thurber women. "Excelsior" was especially ripe for this kind of treatment because it's the kind of poem that presents itself as a serious work -- about pursuing your goals against all odds, a favorite Longfellow theme -- while the sing-song style and sheer pointlessness of it all (since the youth's goal is never defined beyond that meaningless "strange device," why should we care that he keeps carrying that damned banner?) make it seem more like bad doggerel; it has all the pretentiousness of high culture with all the silliness of low culture, a dangerous mix.

IMHO, Thurber's illustrations(to be continued), are of more note than the poor poem itself. That's not to say that I don't enjoy some things that I know to be technically inferior, There are scads of songs and poems that are basically crap that still make me happy (or wonderfully sad) . . you like what you like . . no crime there.

excelsior cheers!

Just had a PM request for a poem I personally admire, and rather than start a new post, I'll place it here:
The Old Fools


What do they think has happened, the old fools,
To make them like this? Do they somehow suppose
It's more grown-up when your mouth hangs open and drools,
And you keep on pissing yourself, and can't remember
Who called this morning? Or that, if they only chose,
They could alter things back to when they danced all night,
Or went to their wedding, or sloped arms some September?
Or do they fancy there's really been no change,
And they've always behaved as if they were crippled or tight,
Or sat through days of thin continuous dreaming
Watching light move? If they don't (and they can't), it's strange:
Why aren't they screaming?

At death, you break up: the bits that were you
Start speeding away from each other for ever
With no one to see. It's only oblivion, true:
We had it before, but then it was going to end,
And was all the time merging with a unique endeavour
To bring to bloom the million-petaled flower
Of being here. Next time you can't pretend
There'll be anything else. And these are the first signs:
Not knowing how, not hearing who, the power
Of choosing gone. Their looks show that they're for it:
Ash hair, toad hands, prune face dried into lines -
How can they ignore it?

Perhaps being old is having lighted rooms
Inside your head, and people in them, acting.
People you know, yet can't quite name; each looms
Like a deep loss restored, from known doors turning,
Setting down a lamp, smiling from a stair, extracting
A known book from the shelves; or sometimes only
The rooms themselves, chairs and a fire burning,
The blown bush at the window, or the sun's
Faint friendliness on the wall some lonely
Rain-ceased midsummer evening. That is where they live:
Not here and now, but where all happened once.
This is why they give

An air of baffled absence, trying to be there
Yet being here. For the rooms grow farther, leaving
Incompetent cold, the constant wear and tear
Of taken breath, and them crouching below
Extinction's alp, the old fools, never perceiving
How near it is. This must be what keeps them quiet:
The peak that stays in view wherever we go
For them is rising ground. Can they never tell
What is dragging them back, and how it will end? Not at night?
Not when the strangers come? Never, throughout
The whole hideous, inverted childhood? Well,
We shall find out.

Philip Larkin


I don't go in much for explaining my poems or the poems of others, most good writing explains it self to the patient and perceptive reader. I do love the old fashioned virtues of Larkin's verse, combined with his extremely modern, post-existentialist sensibility. Great, dark and true -IMHO.

"The chromatic scale is what you use to give the effect of drinking a quinine martini and having an enema simultaneously."
Philip Larkin (http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/p/philiplark162512.html)

[Rikku]

Oh dear, this thread brings back awful memories of GCSE English at college!!

[TreeFrog]

I have to say I like reading this thread but I hear you Rikku.
A host of those fucking daffodills.
In that case I liked the poem so much more than the critics shite.