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Reuven Tsur

Cognitive Poetics, and Poetry Recital



Published in
Colin Martindale, Paul Locher, and Vladimir M. Petrov eds.,
Evolutionary and Neurocognitive Approaches to Aesthetics, Creativity and the Art.
Baywood Publishing Company (Foundations and Frontiers of Aesthetics series)






This page contains poetic texts discussed in the paper,
sound files of their recitals, and graphs abstracted from the latter










from Ohala, John J. (1994) "The Frequency Code Underlies The Sound-Symbolic Use of Voice Pitch",
in Hinton, Leanne, Johanna Nichols, and John J. Ohala eds. Sound Symbolism.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 325347.




1. Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
     A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme...


Listen to two actors' readings of excerpt 1.

Hodge Sheen








Listen to Sheen's readings of quote 1.
published version manipulated version




LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI


O what can ail thee, Knight at arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the Lake
And no birds sing!

O what can ail thee, Knight at arms,
So haggard, and so woe begone?
The Squirrel's granary is full
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too--

I met a Lady in the Meads,
Full beautiful, a faery's child
Her hair was long, her foot was light
And her eyes were wild--

I made a Garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant Zone
She look'd at me as she did love
And made sweet moan--

I set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day long
For sidelong would she bend and sing
A faery's song--

She found me roots of relish sweet
And honey wild and manna dew
And sure in language strange she said
I love thee true--

She took me to her elfin grot
And there she wept and sigh'd full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dream'd, Ah Woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale Kings, and Princes too
Pale warriors, death pale were they alll
They cried, La belle dame sans merci
Thee hath in thrall.

I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering;
Though the sedge is withered from the Lake
And no birds sing------

Listen to Keats's "LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI" read by Douglas Hodge and Michel Sheen.

Hodge Sheen










Listen to excerpt 2 read by Douglas Hodge and Michel Sheen.


Hodge Sheen
















Listen to excerpt 3 read by Douglas Hodge and Michel Sheen.


Hodge Sheen
















Listen to excerpt 4 read by Douglas Hodge and Michel Sheen.


Hodge Sheen
















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