Romanticism

Night of the Albatross

We have come lifted toward freedom from a spirit of hope and optimism full run down to disappointment, no hope and

despair echoing the fatalistic whirls of the French, Soviet and other Revolutions. They have killed the Albatros and the answer, as Blake, Wordsworth and Colleridge would do has to be a redemption of words and paintings of a new caliber, opening up another dimension to human liberty

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xu3mhKc6jg&noredirect=1http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xu3mhKc6jg&noredirect=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6PXklQY0pQ 

William Wordsworth. The Prelude

London

By William Blake

I wander thro' each charter'd street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow. 

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infants cry of fear,

In every voice: in every ban,

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear 

How the Chimney-sweepers cry

Every blackning Church appalls, 

And the hapless Soldiers sigh

Runs in blood down Palace walls 

But most thro' midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlots curse

Blasts the new-born Infants tear 

And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse