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Cliffs of Dover


palimino

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It seems you're taking up a sort of 19th century flavor to your language and construction; it feels awfully poetic -- which is tough turf to walk with a straight face. But taking that as a given, the phrase "lovely Leah, looking bloody well tonight" really hits my ear wrong.

 

Maybe it's because I can easily hear that phrase in memory, uttered by the frequently coarse/vulgar British techs brought into the States on quasi-bogus work visas by a company I used to work for. Every other phrase had "bloody" or the f-word in it, frequently in tandem. I loved those guys... ;)

 

Anyhow, I'd love to hear how this sounds with music. I had a few concerns about flow and meter, but, really, people play with phrasing so much it's all but impossible to tell on the page.

 

An interesting, overall well-crafted work with a neo-classical approach to a classic situation, even though we never really get to find out what's bugging this chick so... ;)

 

 

PS... When I found out why the white cliffs of Dover are white, it seemed a hella lot less romantic. :D

 

PPS... breakers... Don't the Brits call them rollers? This word also hits my ear wrong, though I missed it the first time around. And there may be some other anachronisms in the language choices as well.

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it feels awfully
poetic
--

 

Poetic as in Homer? Perhaps Virgil? Or maybe you mean Dante? Are you implying that it sounds like Milton, or perhaps more like Shakespeare? No, no, by poetic you must mean Byron or Keats, right? Then again, you could be referring to Frost, though I'd put even money Robinson before Eliot or Pound. Of course, Baudelaire is a real possibilty ... though I wouldn't discount Eluard. Is there any chance you mean Cummings? I'd say Wordsworth, but Arnold is more likely.

 

:idk:

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Poetic
as in Homer? Perhaps Virgil? Or maybe you mean Dante? Are you implying that it sounds like Milton, or perhaps more like Shakespeare? No, no, by
poetic
you must mean Byron or Keats, right? Then again, you could be referring to Frost, though I'd put even money Robinson before Eliot or Pound. Of course, Baudelaire is a real possibilty ... though I wouldn't discount Eluard. Is there any chance you mean Cummings? I'd say Wordsworth, but Arnold is more likely.


:idk:

 

Poetic as in overeducated English lit major stuck in the Longhorn State...

 

:D;):D

 

 

Pardon my shorthand... by that I meant that the grammatical construction and flow seemed (no doubt, intentionally) dated, a trifle archaic, a little forced. You know...

 

... poetic.

 

 

250px-Matthew_Arnold_-_Project_Gutenberg

 

Dover Beach

Matthew Arnold

 

The sea is calm to-night.

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the French coast the light

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! you hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago

Heard it on the Agaean, and it brought

Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

Of human misery; we

Find also in the sound a thought,

Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

 

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.

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Thanks, T-Bry.

 

 

Bloody hell! I behold EIGHT responses, but low and be snowed, 'tis mere banter over frivolities. Shall I address those with input? Yea. ;)

 

B2B, So, you think it's archaic, eh? And "bloody" is used only by miscreants and ne'er-do-wellers, eh? Hmmmm...I never knew. Guess that makes me....

 

Where on earth did you obtain a photo of my Great-Great Uncle Matty???

 

You're quite right about the "rollers." I made the appropriate...well, perhaps inappropriate, but it has been changed. :lol:

 

Why they are white should NOT be an issue, old bean. Does not the excrement of animals give birth to the fairest of roses? :bor:

 

 

Blue, Great snap of the cliffs!

 

Pal

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Welcome to the club. I was just working on a song I've had around for a while... I actually wrote it in my early 40s, I think. It's sung from the perspective of someone with senile dimentia. I always like to be ahead of the curve... and, besides, when I'm playing in the childhood sunshine of my slowly crumbling mind, I may not feel like writing a song about it...

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I am quite the fan of the 19th century and the poets it produced. An interesting period of time. The language used in the song seems to work here because it is fairly consistently used. That language can seem overdone to our ears that have been well trained in "Simple and Direct," but I like the way it comes together here. The white cliffs have certainly been used many times in literature, poetry and music that you are treading dangerously close to either looking like a hack or pulling off a fine addition to the catalog. I would like to hear it.

 

A haunting story.

 

The use of "bloody" is tricky in this context. It is certanly apt in it's relation to the subject matter. On the other hand, the use of elevated language throughout the rest of the piece puts the use of the vernacular "bloody" a bit out of place. I think a valid argument could be made for keeping or tossing it. The author, I suppose, wins this argument.

 

EG

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