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the ballad of dead friend
1. Name: Manoj Shrestha
Roll no:-01
Subject Teacher:-Sagar
Poudel
English(Sub Code:-411)
BICTE 1st semester
Aadikavii Bhanubhakta
Campus
NOW LET US START ………
2.
3. KEYWORDS:-
Withered-dry and decaying
Jester-a person whose job is to tell a joke and make
people laughs.
Spurns-decline or refuse
Prying-excessively interested in people’s private
affairs
Woe-great sorrow or sadness
Ply-work
Shroud-cover and blanket
Yearns-desire
Spy-make careful observations
Nigh-to cover or come near
4. ABOUT THE POET
This poem is written by the poet “Edwin Arlington Robinson”(1869-1935) ,an American
poet. He was born on 22nd December,1869. He lived on late 19th and early 20th
centuries. He completed his education from the
Harvard University. He is best known for his short dramatic
Poems concerning the people in a small New England
village, Tilbury Town, very much like the Gardiner, Maine, in
which he grew up. He won three Pulitzer Prize for poetry
on three occasions and was nominated for the Nobel Prize
In Literature four times. He died on 6th April,1935 in New
York, USA.
Among the poems written by the poet, this is also one of
Them. It is a very sensitive regarding a dead friend. This is a
Song remembering a dead friend and clarifying our life. He
was a successful poet in the history.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNYjGIjxE7M
5. WHAT IS BALLAD?
A ballad is a type of poem which is sometimes related to
music. Ballad have a long history and found in many
cultures. Mainly the ballad start in a folk song and continues
today in a popular music. Many love songs and sad songs
are considered as ballad today.
A common ballad consists of stanzas that contain a quatrain
and for poetic lines.
It mainly became popular in the late 18th century.
Some ballad have a music quality and patterns same like
the music. The rhythmic scheme is often as music.
6. EXAMPLES OF BALLAD
"Ballad of the Gibbet" by Francois Villon
"As You Came From The Holy Land" by Sir
Walter Raleigh
"The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats
"La Belle Dame Sans Merci" by John Keats
"The Ballad of a Bachelor" by Ellis Parker Butler
"Ballad on the American War" by Robert Burns
"Ballad of the Army Cats" by Tu Fu
"A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master" by
Sidney Lanier
7. "The Kirk of Scotland's Alarm: A Ballad" by Robert
Burns
"A Ghost in the Night" by Nan Nichols
"Summoned by the King" by William Kite
"Ballad of the Cool Fountain" by Anonymous
"The Broken-legg'd Man" by John Mackey Shaw
"The Walrus and the Carpenter" by Lewis Carroll
"The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde
"Ballad of the Triangle Fire" by Ruth Rubin
"Ballad of the Green Berets" by SSgt. Barry Sadler
"Richard Cory" by Edwin Arlington Robinson
8. As we the withered ferns,
By the roadway lying,
Time, the jester, spurns
All our prayers and prying—
All our tears and sighing,
Sorrow, change and woe—
All our where-and-whying
For friends that come and go.
9. FIRST STANZA
As we the withered ferns people dried up one
day, a man who makes other people happy
and rejection and refuse in a proud way. All
our prayers and nature is to be interested to
find out about other peoples private lifestyle
that is very annoying and rude, all our tear,
sighing, sorrow, change, trouble and friends
that come and go.
10. Life awakes and burns,
Age and death defying,
Till at last it learns
All but Love is dying;
Love’s the trade we’re plying,
God has willed it so;
Shrouds are what we’re buying
For friends that come and go.
11. SECOND STANZA
Age and death is a natural process till the
person learns. Love is trade we are travelling
regularly along a particular route or between
two particular places. God has willed it so,
we are buying a piece of cloth from which the
dead boy is wrapped for the friend that come
and go.
12. Man forever yearns
For the thing that’s flying.
Everywhere he turns,
Men to dust are drying,---
Dust that wanders, eying
(with eyes that hardly glow)
New faces, dimly spying
For friends that come and go.
13. THIRD STANZA
Men forever wants something very much
specially when it is difficult to get every
where he turns. Men to dust are drying, Dust
that does not have any goals or location
where to go with eyes that hardly glow. New
faces simply spying for faces that come and
go.
14. Dearest friend,
You have been dead for over two years now . I can’t say it
has been easy learning to live without you. Heading into year
three, I can say I have started to make real progress. I can talk
about your death without crying. I can look people in the eye and
tell them how you died. And now I finally feel like I can be honest
with you. Okay, not with you per se, but I can be honest with myself
about you.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will never see you again. It
was incredibly difficult to reconcile my desire to see you again with
my belief that there is no afterlife. I used to look for you
everywhere, hoping that you were watching over me and sending
me signs. But I don’t need you to linger anymore. I am finally at
ease with your passing.With this acceptance, I am also trying to let
go of the guilt from the promises I made and subsequently broke in
15. Deeper than that, I have been trying to absolve the guilt attached to the
things I did to you when you were alive. This includes but is not limited to,
renouncing our mutual love of Sailor Moon, laughing at the suggestion we
go to the 2003 Winter Formal together, and downplaying the closeness of
our friendship. I am incredibly sorry that I was never as proud of you as you
were of me . It’s not to say that romantic love would have been better or
worse than what we had. What I’m trying to say is that I will never have
what we had together with anyone else. Even though one day I will have
friendships that eclipse the duration of ours, no one else can precede my
earliest memories like you do. I can relate to other people who grew up with
divorced parents, but you and I went through that together. Losing you left
me with a phantom limb of our shared childhood.It pains me to admit that I
think about you more now than I did when you were alive. I stare into your
negative space and fear that one day I will go twenty-four hours without
pausing to remember you. As the sound of your voice grows more distant,
leaving parts of you behind seems inevitable. I no longer remember all the
steps to our secret handshake. I let your tense slide from present to past
and even past perfect, the one used for actions that have been completed
before others take place.
16. While it is frightening to think of what comes next, somehow,
in your own way, you’ve prepared me for it. You were my first
friend and my first eulogy. I think it would make you, the
eternal optimist that you were, happy to know that your
friendship keeps making me a better, stronger person. You
showed me that I can function in the face of tragedy. You
taught me the vocabulary of grief so I can comfort others
when they need it. I never would have asked for it to be this
way, but if this is what I can take from it, I will.
So, dearest friend, that’s all I have to share for now. I’ll
raise a glass for your twenty-fifth birthday this summer, and,
as always, I’ll keep you in my thoughts.
Love,
Layne
