20 Examples of Poems of Romanticism

Poems of Romanticism

The Romanticism was a cultural movement (originating in Germany and the United Kingdom in the late 18th century) that privileged feelings, artistic individuality and authentic freedom of man as a search constant.

This idea broke with rationalism, a popular movement at that time, which proposed a reality formulated from human reason and good taste.

Romanticism spread through Europe during the mid-nineteenth century, reaffirming the idea of ​​the national, traditions and folklore against the cosmopolitanism of the Illustration. This current gave rise to numerous aesthetic and literary aspects that paved the way for the emergence of artistic avant-gardes and Latin American modernism.

His main artistic contributions occurred in the field of painting, music and literature.

Characteristics of Romanticism

Romanticism was characterized by:

• The exaltation of the values ​​of the self, of the subjectivity and emotions above reason and classicism. This was taken up and pushed to the maximum by surrealism, years later.
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• The assessment of the dreamlike, the fantastic, the folkloric and nightmarish figures such as the monster, the vampire or the deceased loved one. This characteristic originated the Gothic, some time later.
• The proposal of the artist's genius as the creator of his own and unrepeatable universe.
• The valuation of originality and creativity against the repetition of classical patterns from ancient Greece.
• The nostalgic search for lost paradises.
• The valuation of the imperfect and unfinished work over the finished, closed and millimeter works.
• The cult of national character or volkgeist (from German: popular spirit), which led to the exaltation of superstition and stories despised by the enlightened spirit.
• The valuation of the exotic and the extravagant, the ugly and the monstrous, moving away from the classical perfection of forms of Greco-Roman culture.
• The exaltation of nature and the countryside (understood as purity), above civilization and the city (understood as corruption).
• The revaluation of the Middle Ages and the Christian imaginary.

Examples of poems from Romanticism

1. "Remember me" by Lord Byron (Ingaterra, 1788-1821)

My lonely soul cries in silence,
except when my heart is
united to yours in celestial alliance
of mutual sighing and mutual love.

It is the flame of my soul like aurora,
shining in the grave enclosure:
almost extinct, invisible, but eternal ...
nor can death stain it.

Remember me!... Near my grave
do not pass, no, without giving me your prayer;
for my soul there will be no greater torture
than knowing that you have forgotten my pain.

Hear my last voice. It is not a crime
pray for those who were. I never
I asked you for nothing: when I expire I demand of you
that on my grave you shed your tears.

1. "The Fairies", by William Blake (England, 1757-1827)

Come, my sparrows,
arrows of mine.
If a tear or a smile
the man they seduce;
if a love affair
covers the sunny day;
if the blow of a step
it touches the heart from the roots,
here is the wedding ring,
transform any fairy into a king.

Thus sang a fairy.
From the branches I jumped
and she eluded me,
trying to run away.
But trapped in my hat
it won't take long to learn
that he can laugh, that he can cry,
because it is my butterfly:
I have removed the poison
of the wedding ring.

1. "The Suicide Argument" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (England, 1772-1834)

About the beginning of my life, whether I wanted it or not,
nobody ever asked me - otherwise it couldn't be -
If life was the question, a thing sent to try
And if living is saying YES, what can NO be but dying?

Nature's response:

Is it returned the same as when it was sent? Isn't wear worse?
Think first of what YOU ARE! Be aware of what you ARE!
I have given you innocence, I have given you hope,
I have given you health, and genius, and a wide future,
Will you return guilty, lethargic, desperate?
Take inventory, examine, compare.
Then die — if you dare to die.

1. "Restless Love" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (German, 1749-1832)

Through the rain, through the snow,
Through the tempest I go!
Among the sparkling caves,
On the misty waves I go,
Always forward, always!
Peace, rest, have flown.

Quick through the sadness
I wish to be slaughtered
That all the simplicity
Sustained in life
Be the addiction of a longing,
Where the heart feels for the heart,
Seeming to both burn
Seeming that they both feel.

How am I going to fly?
In vain were all the confrontations!
Bright crown of life,
Turbulent bliss,
Love, you are this!

1. "Know Thyself" by Novalis (German, 1772-1801)

Only man has sought one thing at all times,
and he has done it everywhere, on the tops and in the chasms
of the world.
Under different names - in vain - he always hid himself,
and always, even believing her close to her, he was leaving her hands.
There was a man long ago who in kind myths
infantile
revealed to his children the keys and the path of a castle
hidden.
Few managed to know the simple key to the enigma,
but those few then became teachers
of destiny.
He spent a long time thinking - error sharpened our wits -
and the myth stopped hiding the truth from us.
Happy who has become wise and has left his obsession
around the world,
who by himself yearns for the stone of wisdom
eternal.
The reasonable man then becomes a disciple
authentic,
he transforms everything into life and gold, he no longer needs the
elixirs.
The sacred alembic boils within him, the king is in it,
and also Delphi, and in the end he understands what it means
know yourself.

1. "Don Juan in Hell" by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

When Don Juan descended into the underground wave
And his mite he had given to Charon,
A gloomy beggar, his gaze fierce like Antisthenes,
With a vengeful and strong arm he took hold of each oar.

Showing her flabby breasts and his open clothes,
The women writhed under the black sky,
And, like a great flock of sacrificed victims,
Following him they dragged a long bellow.

Sganarelle laughing demands his pay,
While Don Luis, with a trembling finger
He showed all the dead, wandering on the banks,
The bold son who mocked his snowy forehead.

Shuddering under his mourning, the chaste and lean Elvira,
Close to the perfidious husband and who was his lover,
It seemed to claim a supreme smile
In which the sweetness of his first oath would shine.

Standing tall in his armor, a stone giant
He stayed on the bar and cut the black wave;
But the serene hero, leaning on his greatsword,
He contemplated the stele and without deigning to see anything.

1. "Eternal love" by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (Spain, 1836-1870)

He may cloud the sun eternally;
He will be able to dry up the sea in an instant;
He may break the axis of the earth
Like a weak crystal.
Everything will happen! He may death
Cover me with the funereal of his crepe;
But it can never be turned off in me
The flame of your love.

1. "Song of Death" (fragment) by José de Espronceda (Spain, 1808-1842)

Weak mortal don't scare you
my darkness nor my name;
man finds in my bosom
a term despite him.
I compassionately offer you
far from the world an asylum,
where in my quiet shadow
forever sleep in peace.

Island I am from rest
in the middle of the sea of ​​life,
and the sailor there forgets
the storm that passed;
there they invite you to sleep
pure waters without a murmur,
there he sleeps to the lullaby
of a breeze without rumor (...)

1. "The day was peaceful" (fragment) by Rosalía de Castro (Spain, 1837-1885)

The day was peaceful
And the atmosphere tempered,
And it rained, it rained
Quietly and meekly;
And while silent
He cried and I moaned
My child, tender rose
Sleeping he died.
When fleeing from this world, what calm on his forehead!
When I saw him walk away, what a storm in mine!

Land over the unburied corpse
Before it starts to rot... earth!
The hole has already been covered, calm down,
Very soon in the lumps removed
Green and vigorous will grow the grass (...)

1. "Poem to a young Italian woman" by Théophile Gautier (France, 1811-1872)

That February she was shivering in her sapwood
from frost and snow; the rain lashed
with its gusts the angle of the black roofs;
you said: my God! When will I be able
find the violets I want in the woods?
Our sky is weeping, in the lands of France
the season is cold as if it were still winter,
and sits by the fire; Paris lives in mud
when in such beautiful months Florence already shelled
her treasures adorning a grass glaze.

Look, the blackish tree outlines her skeleton;
your warm soul was deceived with the sweet warmth of it;
There are no violets except in your blue eyes
and there is no more spring than your face on fire.

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