1. O DES By: Leila Tibouti and Blake Lahey

2. O BJECTIVES Students will be able to understand the essentials of Odes using the presentation. Students will be able to complete a fill in the blank evaluating their knowledge of Odes. Students will be able to write a Pindaric Ode in groups.

3. W HAT A RE O DES ? “Ode” comes from the Greek word aeidein, meaning to sing or chant. A lyric poem which expresses a strong feeling of love or respect for someone or something. Classic odes are structured with the strophe, antistrophe and epode. There are three types of odes: Pindaric, Horatian, and Irregular.

4. H ISTORY OF ODES Originated in Ancient Greece. Originally poetic pieces accompanied by music. Gradually became known as personal lyrical compositions. Could be sung with or without musical instruments, or recited and accompanied by music. Primary instruments used: Aulos Lyre

5. P INDARIC ODE Named after ancient Greek poet Pindar. Performed with a chorus and dancers. Often composed to celebrate athletic victories. Defined by three triads: strophe, antistrophe and epode. Set meter and rhyme Strophe and antistrophe consist of any number of lines and any rhyme scheme the poet chooses but have to be identical in structure. Epode differs in structure in whatever ways the poet chooses to make it differ.

6. H ORATIAN ODE An ode with meter and rhyme. Named after Roman poet Horace. More tranquil and contemplative than the Pindaric ode. Less formal, less ceremonious. Better suited for quiet reading than theatrical production. Uses the structure: ABAB CDECDE

7. I RREGULAR ODE An irregular ode is an ode with meter and rhyme just like all other odes but has no set pattern. Each line rhymes somewhere throughout.

8. “O DE ON I NTIMATIONS OF I MMORTALITY FROM R ECOLLECTIONS OF E ARLY C HILDHOOD ” BY W ILLIAM W ORDSWORTH (P INDARIC ODE ) (P ART OF IT ) There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;-- Turn wheresoe’er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

9. The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where’er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

10. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor’s sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong. The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,-- No more shall grief of mine the season wrong: I hear the echoes through the mountains throng. The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every beast keep holiday;-- Thou child of joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!

11. “O DE TO THE C ONFEDERATE D EAD ” BY A LLEN T ATE (H ORATIAN ODE ) Row after row with strict impunity The headstones yield their names to the element, The wind whirrs without recollection; In the riven troughs the splayed leaves Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament To the seasonal eternity of death; Then driven by the fierce scrutiny Of heaven to their election in the vast breath, They sough the rumour of mortality.

12. Autumn is desolation in the plot Of a thousand acres where these memories grow From the inexhaustible bodies that are not Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row. Think of the autumns that have come and gone!– Ambitious November with the humors of the year, With a particular zeal for every slab, Staining the uncomfortable angels that rot On the slabs, a wing chipped here, an arm there: The brute curiosity of an angel’s stare Turns you, like them, to stone, Transforms the heaving air Till plunged to a heavier world below You shift your sea-space blindly Heaving, turning like the blind crab.

13. Dazed by the wind, only the wind The leaves flying, plunge You know who have waited by the wall The twilight certainty of an animal, Those midnight restitutions of the blood You know--the immitigable pines, the smoky frieze Of the sky, the sudden call: you know the rage, The cold pool left by the mounting flood, Of muted Zeno and Parmenides. You who have waited for the angry resolution Of those desires that should be yours tomorrow, You know the unimportant shrift of death And praise the vision And praise the arrogant circumstance Of those who fall Rank upon rank, hurried beyond decision– Here by the sagging gate, stopped by the wall.

14. Seeing, seeing only the leaves Flying, plunge and expire Turn your eyes to the immoderate past, Turn to the inscrutable infantry rising Demons out of the earth they will not last. Stonewall, Stonewall, and the sunken fields of hemp, Shiloh, Antietam, Malvern Hill, Bull Run. Lost in that orient of the thick and fast You will curse the setting sun. Cursing only the leaves crying Like an old man in a storm

15. You hear the shout, the crazy hemlocks point With troubled fingers to the silence which Smothers you, a mummy, in time. The hound bitch Toothless and dying, in a musty cellar Hears the wind only. Now that the salt of their blood Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea, Seals the malignant purity of the flood, What shall we who count our days and bow Our heads with a commemorial woe In the ribboned coats of grim felicity, What shall we say of the bones, unclean, Whose verdurous anonymity will grow? The ragged arms, the ragged heads and eyes Lost in these acres of the insane green? The gray lean spiders come, they come and go; In a tangle of willows without light The singular screech-owl’s tight Invisible lyric seeds the mind With the furious murmur of their chivalry.

16. We shall say only the leaves Flying, plunge and expire We shall say only the leaves whispering In the improbable mist of nightfall That flies on multiple wing: Night is the beginning and the end And in between the ends of distraction Waits mute speculation, the patient curse That stones the eyes, or like the jaguar leaps For his own image in a jungle pool, his victim.

17. What shall we say who have knowledge Carried to the heart? Shall we take the act To the grave? Shall we, more hopeful, set up the grave In the house? The ravenous grave? Leave now The shut gate and the decomposing wall: The gentle serpent, green in the mulberry bush, Riots with his tongue through the hush– Sentinel of the grave who counts us all! The End

18. “O DE ON A G RECIAN U RN ” BY J OHN K EATS (I RREGULAR O DE ) Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

19. Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

20. Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

21. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

22. O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." The End

23. THE END!

24. Explain what the ode is saying as its read. (the one I like the best/understand the most)