unpoetical


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At the end of the twentieth century, critics referred to Crabbe as "the last Augustan," a poet who "[wavered] between Augustan explicitness and nineteenth-century complexity," (1) an "anachronism," (2) "an unpoetical poet," (3) and "a somewhat neglected figure," (4) but these designations overlook the urgent response characteristic of Crabbe's contemporaries.
In it, Williams quotes correspondence (including letters from Allen Ginsburg), journals, old advertisements, and other such unpoetical text.
The history of the novel presented here is that of Behn and Haywood rather than Defoe, though an effort to include the unpoetical novelist is made by focusing on a rare moment of emotional intensity in Roxana.
Decidedly not, for Viola came across as rather unpoetical, more connected to her "outside" than to emotional feelings, despite some corporeal contact with Orsino during the "Patience on a monument" speech.
The critics who would have us believe that there is something essentially unpoetical about a bohunk (whatever a bohunk may be) and something essentially poetical about Sir Lancelot of the Lake are, of course, simply negligible.
Paul, went on to establish the city's cathedral and contribute toward making the town the "middle-class, dull, unpoetical and fettering" center of Midwestern Catholicism that Shane Leslie felt it had become by the early twentieth century (qtd.
She is a plainspoken woman, with a level gaze and the unpoetical air of someone who doesn't have room in her life for making things up.
The anger of the activist would have rendered them harsh and unpoetical, in her ears and in Australian ears attuned only to non-modernist melodies.
A charming instance in the ode of this determination to poeticize the unpoetical, fallen from the pen of a poet who hadn't the faintest idea of what is charming, is his description of steamships "slighting sails and scorning oars" to "keep faith with Time on distant shores," i.
A Poet," he wrote, "is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence; because he has no Identity - he is continually infor[ming] and filling some other Body.
A Poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence; because he has no Identity - he is continually in for - and filling some other Body - The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women who are creatures of impulse are poetical and have about them an unchangeable attribute - the poet has none; no identity - he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's creatures.
Insofar as the poet takes pains with his writing, he betrays his intrinsically unpoetical nature.