first stanza, The Eve of St. Agnes
— John Keats
ST. AGNES’ Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
Numb were the Beadsman’s fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seem’d taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin’s picture, while his prayer he saith.
Comments
I get that Agnes = lambs and virginity and all that stuff, but this one...this one puzzles me. He wasn't Catholic and he wasn't even particularly religious beyond a very UU idea that life was a "vale of soul-making." I've always wondered where all the Catholic imagery came from in this one. Maybe he realized that there was no cold like the cold stone interior of an old empty Catholic church in winter, where even the echoes need scarves.
Posted by: bridgett | January 28, 2008 7:19 AM