Using Old Poems to Find New Language

Often I am inspired by language and new words the teenagers in my life are constantly inventing. I believe teens have been inventing the language for millennia, but Facebook and the texting culture have documented some of these evolving words earlier than they might otherwise enter the lexicon (or the dictionary). One of my young friends wrote today about an earring that was returned to her from "MISSINGITUDE" -- which is more likely a state of being than a location, but a convincing one.

Two of my email subscriptions, "Poem-A-Day" from the AAP, and "The Writer's Almanac" from American Public Media, recently contained poems with unusual words that inspired fresh lesson ideas.
 
"The Visionary" by Emily Brontë, uses some wonderful sound strategies to create a sensual representation of wind and winter night. In particular, the first stanza: 

The Visionary  by Emily Brontë Silent is the house: all are laid asleep: One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep, Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze That whirls the wildering drift, and bends the     groaning trees. Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor; Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door; The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong     and far: I trim it well, to be the wanderer's guiding-star. Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame! Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame: But neither sire nor dame nor prying serf shall know, What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow. What I love shall come like visitant of air, Safe in secret power from lurking human snare; What loves me, no word of mine shall e'er betray, Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay. Burn, then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear- Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air: He for whom I wait, thus ever comes to me; Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou     my constancy.

How can one resist the "wildering drift"? A word like this will seem "made up" to young children today, but it can be a tantalizing starting point for making up even more words that sound like the wind -- or whatever you like. Of course I am describing the craft technique of onomatopoeia, or a word that sounds like the thing it describes. Emily Brontë, in her poem about a spirit visitor at night, uses many words that evoke the hush of the snow and the sharper "little lamp; glimmer straight and clear," with those "l" "t" and "m" sounds. 

"At the Entering of the New Year" by Thomas Hardy is written in two parts, titled "Old Style" and "New Style."  Both halves of this poem would seem incredibly old-fashioned to children today, but my idea for a lesson would be to select an older poem you like, read it to the children, discuss any unfamiliar language and sounds, and then ask them to write a "new" poem in response. If the "old" poem chosen for the lesson is also tied to an important event or day, as is Hardy's, it will give younger children more steady footing as they try to come up with a poem of their own. 

This poem is also filled with wonderful less familiar words: "allemands" and "poussettings" could be contrasted with any current dance terms the children know. Another discussion of how funny the words are, and whether "hip hop" is a kind of onomatopoeia, could strengthen the lesson.

At the Entering of the New Year  by Thomas Hardy            I  (OLD STYLE) Our songs went up and out the chimney, And roused the home-gone husbandmen; Our allemands, our heys, poussettings, Our hands-across and back again, Sent rhythmic throbbings through the casements          On to the white highway, Where nighted farers paused and muttered,          "Keep it up well, do they!" The contrabasso's measured booming Sped at each bar to the parish bounds, To shepherds at their midnight lambings, To stealthy poachers on their rounds; And everybody caught full duly          The notes of our delight, As Time unrobed the Youth of Promise          Hailed by our sanguine sight.            II  (NEW STYLE) We stand in the dusk of a pine-tree limb, As if to give ear to the muffled peal, Brought or withheld at the breeze's whim; But our truest heed is to words that steal From the mantled ghost that looms in the gray, And seems, so far as our sense can see, To feature bereaved Humanity, As it sighs to the imminent year its say:- "O stay without, O stay without, Calm comely Youth, untasked, untired; Though stars irradiate thee about Thy entrance here is undesired. Open the gate not, mystic one;          Must we avow what we would close confine?          With thee, good friend, we would have              converse none, Albeit the fault may not be thine." December 31. During the War.

 
Word play is an important part of teaching (and writing) poetry. Less well known poems from years ago can be used more effectively when combined with an exploration of their expiring language.