A Cento by John Ashbery: Sources
Annotations by Rosanne Wasserman, November 8, 2008
To a Waterfowl
Bryant, “To a Waterfowl,” title
<http://www.bartleby.com/102/17.html>
Where, like a pillow on a bed
Donne, “The Extasy,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/198.html>
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude
Milton, “Lycidas,” l. 3
<http://www.bartleby.com/4/210.html>
Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange and citron
Longfellow, “Evangeline,” l. 24
<http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/books/longfellow/evangeline07.html>
And one clear call for me
Tennyson, “Crossing the Bar,” l. 2
< http://www.bartleby.com/246/398.html>
My genial spirits fail
Coleridge, “Dejection: An Ode,” l. 39
<http://www.bartleby.com/41/421.html>
The desire of the moth for the star
Shelley, “To __,” l. 13
<https://tspace.library.utoronto.ca/html/1807/4350/poem1914.html>
When first the College Rolls receive his name.
Johnson, “The Vanity of Human Wishes,” l. 135
<http://www.online-literature.com/samuel-johnson/3242/>
Too happy, happy tree
Keats, “Stanzas,” l. 2
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/632.html>
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan.
Keats, “Ode to a Nightingale,” l. 24
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/624.html>
Forget this rotten world, and unto thee
Donne, “Of the Progress of the Soul: The Second Anniversary,” l. 1
<http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/674.html>
Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill
Arnold, “The Scholar-Gipsy,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/751.html>
And the eye travels down to Oxford's towers.
Arnold, “The Scholar-Gipsy,” l. 30
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/751.html>
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Spenser, “Prothalamium,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/106/53.html>
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair
Stevens, “Sunday Morning,” l. 2
<http://www.bartleby.com/265/355.html>
And she also to use newfangleness...
Wyatt, “They Flee from Me ,” l. 19
<http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/2407.html>
Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction?
Blake, “The Book of Thel,” l. 4.11
<http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/book-of-thel-the/>
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Byron, “Waterloo,” l. 82
<http://readytogoebooks.com/classics/LB-waterloo.htm>
Unaffected by “the march of events,”
Pound, “Hugh Selwyn Mauberley,” l. 17
<https://tspace.library.utoronto.ca/html/1807/4350/poem1656.html>
Never until the mankind making
Thomas, “A Refusal to Mourn the Death . . . ,” l. 1
<http://www.poets.org/m/dsp_poem.php?prmMID=15381>
From harmony, from heavenly harmony
Dryden, “A Song for St. Cecelia’s Day, 1687,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/399.html>
O death, O [sic] cover you over with roses and early lilies!
Whitman, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” l. 11.2
<http://www.whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1867/poems/212>
With loaded arms I come, pouring for you
Whitman, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” l. 11.5
<http://www.whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1867/poems/212>
Sunset and evening star
Tennyson, “Crossing the Bar,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/246/398.html>
Where roses and white lilies grow.
Campion, “There is a garden in her face,” l. 2
<http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/395.html>
Go, lovely rose,
Waller, “Go, lovely Rose,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/305.html>
This is no country for old men. The young
Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium,” l. 1
<http://www.online-literature.com/yeats/781/>
Midwinter spring is its own season
Eliot, “Four Quartets 4: Little Gidding,” l. 1
<http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/758/>
And a few lilies blow. They that have power to hurt, and will do none.
Hopkins, “Heaven-Haven,” l. 4
<http://www.bartleby.com/122/2.html>
Shakespeare, Sonnet 94
<http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-94-they-that-have-power-to-hurt-and-will/>
Looking as if she were alive, I call.
Browning, “My Last Duchess,” l. 2
<http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/288.html>
The vapours weep their burthen to the ground.
Tennyson, “Tithonus,” l. 2
<http://www.online-literature.com/tennyson/730/>
Obscurest night involved the sky
Cowper, “The Castaway,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/41/321.html>
When Loie Fuller, with her Chinese veils
?! cf. Yeats, “Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen,” l. II.1:
“When Loie Fuller’s Chinese dancers enwound”
<http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1757/>
And many a nymph who wreathes her brow with sedge . . .
Collins, “Ode to Evening,” l. 25
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
Wordsworth, “The World Is Too Much With Us,” l. 4
<http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww317.html>
In drear-nighted December
Keats, “Stanzas,” l. 1
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/632.html>
Ripe apples drop about my head
Marvell, “The Garden,” l. 34
<http://www.bartleby.com/105/145.html>
Who said: two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Shelley, “Ozymandias,” l. 2
<http://www.online-literature.com/shelley_percy/672/>
To throw that faint thin line upon the shore!
Meredith, “Modern Love L: Thus Piteously Love,” l. 16
<http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-l-thus-piteously-love/>
O well for the fisherman's boy!
Tennyson, “Break, break, break,” l. 5
<http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/break-break-break/>
Fra Pandolf's hand [sic]
Browning, “My Last Duchess,” l. 3
<http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/288.html>
Steady thy laden head across a brook . . .
Keats, “To Autumn,” l. 20
<http://www.bartleby.com/126/47.html>
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
Milton, “Paradise Lost: The Fourth Book,” l. 642
<http://www.bartleby.com/4/404.html>
Fills the shadows and windy places
Swinburne, “Chorus from ‘Atalanta,’” l. 3
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/808.html>
Here in the long unlovely street.
Tennyson, “In Memoriam A. H. H.,” l. 2
<https://tspace.library.utoronto.ca/html/1807/4350/poem2130.html>
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
Tennyson, “Songs from ‘The Princess.’ IV. Tears, Idle Tears,” l. 11
<http://www.bartleby.com/246/382.html>
The freezing stream below.
Shelley, “Archy’s Song from Charles the First,” l. 8
<http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/archy-s-song-from-charles-the-first/>
To know the change and feel it . . .
Keats, “Stanzas,” l. 21
<http://www.bartleby.com/101/632.html>
At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere
Bryant, “To a Waterfowl,” l. 18
<http://www.bartleby.com/102/17.html>
Pressed her cold finger closer to her lips
Keats, “The Fall of Hyperion,” l. 318
Where the dead feet walked in.
Hardy, “The Self-Unseeing,” l. 4
<http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1076.html>
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die,
Keats, “Ode on Melancholy,” l. 21
<http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/keats03.html>
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
Byron, “Waterloo,” l. 29
1 comment:
Thanks for the annotations.
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