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Growth of a Poet's Mind is an autobiographical and philosophical poem in blank verse by the Lovian poet Yuri Medvedev. Medvedev wrote the first version of the poem in 2004, and worked on the rest of it for the next four years. The poem was unknown to the general public until published in 2008.

Content and structure Edit

The work consists out of an autobiographical prologue followed by three parts in wich the autor has put his philosophical ideas. This autobiography holds Medvedev's persistent metaphor that life is a linear journey. Medvedev's poem opens with a literal journey. The poem narrates a number of later journeys, most notably the crossing of the Alps in Book II and, in the beginning of the final book, the climactic ascent of Snowdon. In the course of the poem, such literal journeys become the metaphorical vehicle for a journey, the quest in the poet's memory.

Although the episodes of the poem are recognizable events from Medvedev's life, they are interpreted in retrospect, reordered in sequence, retold as dramas involving the interaction between the mind and nature and between the creative imagination and the force of history. Through the journeys Medvedev tries to reconstitute the grounds of hope in a time of post-revolutionary reaction and reason.

Quotations Edit

Fair seedtime had my soul, and I grew up
Fostered alike by beauty and by fear.

Book. I, l. 301


Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music; there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society.

Book. I, l. 340


The grim shape
Towered up between me and the stars, and still,
For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
And measured motion like a living thing,
Strode after me.

Book. I, l. 381


Huge and mighty forms, that do not live
Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.

Book. I, l. 398


Where the statue stood
Of Newton with his prism and silent face,
The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

Book. III, l. 60


When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop,
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.

Book. IV, l. 354


A day
Spent in a round of strenuous idleness.

Book. IV, l. 377


Whether we be young or old,
Our destiny, our being's heart and home,
Is with infinitude, and only there;
With hope it is, hope that can never die,
Effort and expectation, and desire,
And something evermore about to be.

Book. VI, l. 603


Brothers all
In honor, as in one community,
Scholars and gentlemen.

Book. IX, l. 227


Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!

Book. XI, l. 108


There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead.

Book. XI, l. 393

See also Edit

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