March 1, 2012

Thomas Hardy [ 2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928 / Dorchester / England]

                                                    


Thomas Hardy was born June 2, 1840, in the village of Upper Bockhampton, located in Southwestern England. His father was a stone mason and a violinist. His mother enjoyed reading and relating all the folk songs and legends of the region. Between his parents, Hardy gained all the interests that would appear in his novels and his own life: his love for architecture and music, his interest in the lifestyles of the country folk, and his passion for all sorts of literature.

At the age of eight, Hardy began to attend Julia Martin's school in Bockhampton. However, most of his education came from the books he found in Dorchester, the nearby town. He learned French, German, and Latin by teaching himself through these books. At sixteen, Hardy's father apprenticed his son to a local architect, John Hicks. Under Hicks' tutelage, Hardy learned much about architectural drawing and restoring old houses and churches. Hardy loved the apprenticeship because it allowed him to learn the histories of the houses and the families that lived there. Despite his work, Hardy did not forget his academics: in the evenings, Hardy would study with the Greek scholar Horace Moule.

In 1862, Hardy was sent to London to work with the architect Arthur Blomfield. During his five years in London, Hardy immersed himself in the cultural scene by visiting the museums and theaters and studying classic literature. He even began to write his own poetry. Although he did not stay in London, choosing to return to Dorchester as a church restorer, he took his newfound talent for writing to Dorchester as well.

From 1867, Hardy wrote poetry and novels, though the first part of his career was devoted to the novel. At first he published anonymously, but when people became interested in his works, he began to use his own name. Like Dickens, Hardy's novels were published in serial forms in magazines that were popular in both England and America. His first popular novel was Under the Greenwood Tree, published in 1872. The next great novel, Far from the Madding Crowd (1874) was so popular that with the profits, Hardy was able to give up architecture and marry Emma Gifford. Other popular novels followed in quick succession: The Return of the Native (1878), The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), The Woodlanders (1887), Tess of the D'Urbervilles (1891), and Jude the Obscure (1895). In addition to these larger works, Hardy published three collections of short stories and five smaller novels, all moderately successful. However, despite the praise Hardy's fiction received, many critics also found his works to be too shocking, especially Tess of the D'Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure. The outcry against Jude was so great that Hardy decided to stop writing novels and return to his first great love, poetry.

Over the years, Hardy had divided his time between his home, Max Gate, in Dorchester and his lodgings in London. In his later years, he remained in Dorchester to focus completely on his poetry. In 1898, he saw his dream of becoming a poet realized with the publication of Wessex Poems. He then turned his attentions to an epic drama in verse, The Dynasts; it was finally completed in 1908. Before his death, he had written over 800 poems, many of them published while he was in his eighties.

By the last two decades of Hardy's life, he had achieved fame as great as Dickens' fame. In 1910, he was awarded the Order of Merit. New readers had also discovered his novels by the publication of the Wessex Editions, the definitive versions of all Hardy's early works. As a result, Max Gate became a literary shrine.

Hardy also found happiness in his personal life. His first wife, Emma, died in 1912. Although their marriage had not been happy, Hardy grieved at her sudden death. In 1914, he married Florence Dugale, and she was extremely devoted to him. After his death, Florence published Hardy's autobiography in two parts under her own name.

After a long and highly successful life, Thomas Hardy died on January 11, 1928, at the age of 87. His ashes were buried in Poets' Corner at Westminster Abbey.

"I Said to Love"




  I said to Love,
"It is not now as in old days
When men adored thee and thy ways
   All else above;
Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One
Who spread a heaven beneath the sun,"
   I said to Love.

   I said to him,
"We now know more of thee than then;
We were but weak in judgment when,
   With hearts abrim,
We clamoured thee that thou would'st please
Inflict on us thine agonies,"
   I said to him.

   I said to Love,
"Thou art not young, thou art not fair,
No faery darts, no cherub air,
   Nor swan, nor dove
Are thine; but features pitiless,
And iron daggers of distress,"
   I said to Love.

   "Depart then, Love! . . .
- Man's race shall end, dost threaten thou?
The age to come the man of now
   Know nothing of? -
We fear not such a threat from thee;
We are too old in apathy!
Mankind shall cease.--So let it be,"
   I said to Love.


Thomas Hardy

February 23, 2012

A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade
O'er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, 'What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle's hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!'


William Blake

February 17, 2012

අපේ ආදරේ








නෙතු තෙමුනා ඔබ මතක් වෙලා
හිත හැඬුවා ඔබ ළඟ නැති නිසා
දුක හිතුනා හිත රිදවලා
ආදරේ හිතුනා ආයෙත් ඔබ සිහිවෙලා

පුන්චි පුන්චි දේවල් වලට කඳුලු පාවෙලා
ගියේ හැමදා හිතේ ආදරේ නිසා
ආ මගේ සොඳුරු සිතුවම් ආයෙත් සිහිවෙලා
හිතින් හැඬුවේ අපි දෙතැනක නිසා

හිතට හොරා සීතලේම හිත පාවෙලා
සිහින කුමාරියගෙ සිහිනෙට හද පේවෙලා
ආදරණීය දවස පුරා සිහින යාවෙලා
දෑ අවුරුදු ඇවිත් ඔබට හිත ආදරේ වෙලා



W.A.D. ජෝඑල් ලෙනන්

A sweet Heart break

Some unsung songs
Thrive my heart as I wait
Dim glow of her smile clones
more hatred for me
with what I already hate
the most loving things
I let be by gone
smile at me though I am late
I see, I smile and i feel the gold
hence my senses still pay
homage to your love .....


W.A.D. Joel Lennon

February 4, 2012

ආදරේට ලියන කවි






වියලුනු කොල
ලුනු මුසු සුලඟ
නිල පිරුනු දියඹ
පාකරන සුවඳ
හද පිරුනු විලඳ
තවරලා ඈත
පෙනෙන පොඩි හඳට
එවන්නම් හනික
හෙට ආයෙ රෑට 
හඳ පේනකොට
ඒ හඳේ පාට පාට
පොඩි හා පැටවුන්ට
කිව්වා කියන්නට
මන් ආදරෙයි ඔයාට



W.A.D. ජෝඑල් ලෙනන්

January 31, 2012

නෙතු පියාන හිනැහෙන්නම් ....


White Hair ....








Is it to say that ;
I am getting old ?
or is it to say
you are different among others
or else is it to say 
" I don't care about you "
or to show how intelligent  I am ;
Else to tell others 
" This is a attention seeker "

W.A.D. Joel Lennon