In one of my previous posts I had brought up the idea that the very objective of beauty is the beholder. I will be revisiting that idea in this post. I came across Alexander Pope's poem, "An Ode to Solitude". I enjoyed reading it but I can't help thinking that the very idea of an ode to solitude is self contradictory. If there is indeed bliss in not expressing anything to anyone then why put that in a poem? Wouldn't the greatest tribute to solitude be not saying anything at all?
Here is how the poem goes..
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
And he closes by saying..
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye
Each poem that Alexander Pope wrote is a stone in his memory, immortalizing him. And on one of those he says doen't need any.
