Literary Quest

Introduction: Sri Aurobindo (15 August 1872 – 5 December 1950) was an Indian philosopher, yogi, maharishi, poet, and Indian nationalist. He was also a journalist, editing newspapers such as Vande Mataram. He joined the Indian movement for independence from British colonial rule, in 1910 was one of its influential leaders, and then became a spiritual reformer. The Future Poetry was first published in the monthly review Arya in thirty-two installments between December 1917 and July 1920. It explores the possibility of spiritual poetry in the future. Objective:             Aurobindo begins the chapter “The Essence of Poetry” with an aim to probe into the highest power we demand from poetry, its nature and essential law, through which the possibility of its use as the mantra of the real can be understood. He says that “the essential things in poetry is( sic ) neither an impossible nor an unprofitable endeavour”. Two common errors:             When analysing the poetic creation,

  Introduction Robert Wilson Lynd (1879 – 1949) is an Irish essayist and journalist. He writes under the pseudonym “YY” in journals like The New Statesman and Nation. His essays have somber humour and satirical remarks. His prose essay “Sweets” explores children’s fondness for different flavoured chocolates and sweets. Sweets as Exchange The essay begins with the depressing statistics of spending fifty million pounds every year on chocolates and confectionery in Great Britain. The city child has lost Wordsworthian delights of witnessing the variety of flowers and animals whereas as an exchange he has the riches of the sweet shop.   Sweets as Expensive Luxury It is hard to trace when the social history of the democratization of sweets began. Sweets hadn’t been the universal food of children till the eighteenth century when sugar had been an expensive thing. Lynd doubts whether poor children had ever tasted sweets like marchpane , kissing comfits referred to in Shakespeare’s

                              William Wordsworth - Alice Fell or Poverty The post-boy drove with fierce career, For threatening clouds, the moon had drowned; When, as we hurried on, my ear Was smitten with a startling sound.   As if the wind blew many ways, I heard the sound, —and more and more; It seemed to follow with the chaise, And still I heard it as before.   At length I to the boy called out; He stopped his horses at the word,                          But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout, Nor aught else like it, could be heard.   The boy then smacked his whip, and fast The horses scampered through the rain; But, hearing soon upon the blast The cry, I bade him halt again.   Forthwith alighting on the ground, "Whence comes," said I, "this piteous moan?" And there a little Girl I found, Sitting behind the chaise, alone.                            "My cloak!" no other word she spake, But loud and