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Ode - a poem that celebrates a particular subject.

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Ode - a poem that celebrates a particular subject.

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This is seen in both Song and Life.
In Song, the author is telling her family to not mourn her death, shes telling them to celebrate death as a part of life, and to live it unburdened by death.
In Life, the author is also informing her readers that life is precious and to enjoy it and not let the idea of death burden living your life.

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song:
Addressing a dead loved one as still alive.
Life: Addressing life as a living object.

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Song:
"Haply I may remember/ Haply may forget."- Adds in a comic relief at the end of the poem by presuming her family might remember her, or they might not.

Life:
"Say not goodnight , but in some brighter clime. Bid me Good morning." - Adds in comic relief in a sense of instead of saying goodbye, say goodmorning to lighten up her death.

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Song:
Nightingale: symbolizes not feeling the pain of death, dying with peace.
grass: symbolizes living freely, not under the burden of their loved ones death. A fresh start.
Life:
Ocean: Symbolize heaven
Life: symbolizes a lifetime friend.
morning: symbolizes her moving on
Weeds: represent trials before she found the true meaning of life.

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Song themes include: Death, accepting death as a part of life,  transitioning from life to death, and directions after death.
Life themes include:
Death, welcoming death, accepting death, transitioning from life to death, remembering life.
Comparison:

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Rights of Woman Anna Laetitia Barbauld Audiobook Short Poetry

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Free Audio Books for Intellectual Exercise

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'life' a poem by Anna Barbauld. life as we see it in Syria

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Uploaded by Dani Alqappani on 2014-10-09.

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Christina Rossetti- Song (When I am dead, my dearest) Reading

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When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.

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BY ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD

Animula, vagula, blandula. Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to me’s a secret yet.

But this I know, when thou art fled, Where’er they lay these limbs, this head, No clod so valueless shall be, As all that then remains of me. O whither, whither dost thou fly, Where bend unseen thy trackless course, And in this strange divorce,

Ah tell where I must seek this compound I?

To the vast ocean of empyreal flame, From whence thy essence came, Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed From matter’s base encumbering weed? Or dost thou, hid from sight, Wait, like some spell-bound knight, Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour, To break thy trance and reassume thy power? Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be? O say what art thou, when no more thou ’rt thee?

Life! we’ve been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; ’Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps ’t will cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good night, but in some brighter clime. Bid me Good morning.

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Song- BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI  When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree:                         Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.                                                         I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.

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Song- BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI  When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree:                         Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.                                                         I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.