Hear Me:

Ludwig Van Beethoven was a famous German composer and pianist who was a major musical figure in the transition from the classical period to the Romantic period. His 32 piano sonatas, characterized by profound thought, significantly contributed to the sonata form's structural development. Among his masterpieces, the "Moonlight Sonata" stands out for its rich emotional depth, innovative musical arrangement, and powerful musical effect that captivates the listener. The Presto agitato of the third movement imparts a sense of tension and excitement, as if immersing oneself in a storm of emotions. This rapid pace evokes an ineffable passion and impulse, crafting a musical universe that is both dynamic and profoundly emotional. This paper analyzes the third movement of the "Moonlight Sonata " from the perspectives of its creative background, musical structure, and performance techniques.

History presented in films has always been problematic. This debate is generally categorized into two categories, if the historical movies are loyal to the historical fact or if they should be aesthetically considered an art form. Costume adventure films in Turkish Cinema, present mythological characters with fantasy elements raising nationalist sentiments. This authentic genre in Turkish Cinema takes history as a background motif presenting Karaoğlan, Malkoçoğlu, Kara Murat and Battal Gazi, yet combines real facts and people in history with fantasy world heroes and incidents. Hence, these films raise a query regarding the accuracy of their portrayal in relation to historical fact. This paper aims to uncover the fact beyond the fantasy, the conflict between the real people and their representations in the movies in a different perspective.

After plot, the most intuitively important aspect of a story concerns the characters. For example, in some simple stories, characters create the plot: The villain creates a problem that the hero must overcome. In some complex, literary narratives, characterization would seem to be an overriding motivation of the implied author, with the events of the narrative merely serving to provide information about the characters. Not surprisingly, then, character and characterization have been a productive area of scholarship in narratology and literary studies. Important work has also been done in linguistics and discourse processing. Our view is that work in personality and social psychology is also directly relevant to understanding character in narrative, although the connection has not always been made in discourse processing research. In this chapter, we review some of the work in these disciplines. We then discuss some categories of features that are relevant to character in narrative and provide a general framework for how these might be used by readers. Finally, we provide some evidence on the use of characterization features by readers.

Previous articleNext article FreeBook ReviewCharacter and Person. John Frow. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Pp. xvi+331.Julie OrlemanskiJulie OrlemanskiUniversity of Chicago Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUSFull Text Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinked InRedditEmailQR Code SectionsMoreIn this diffuse but often brilliant study, John Frow braids together reflections on two topics, personhood and fictional character. Without equating the pair—they are “ontologically discontinuous” though “logically interdependent”—Frow considers them in tandem, across the “many culturally and historically specific schemata by which real and imaginary persons are assigned their particular ways of being” (vii, vi). Character and person form a conceptual chiasmus at the heart of the book, as Frow shows time and again “not only how characters work as quasi-persons across a range of media and genres, but also how social personhood works as a kind of fiction” (vii). The materials considered come from philosophy, law, anthropology, linguistics, social and cultural history, narratology, film studies, psychoanalysis, cognitive science, and literary history, with special emphasis on the rise of the novel and international modernism. At its best, this dizzying array instantiates the complexity of the book’s central notions, provincializes ideas too often taken as universal, and qualifies the supposed attainments of western modernity. Occasionally the book’s ranginess feels merely eclectic or exhausting. But throughout, Character and Person is animated by Frow’s luminous and exacting intelligence.In the preface, Frow identifies the argumentative style of Character and Person as “that of a prolonged essay,” which (in the words of Theodor Adorno) “neither makes deductions from a principle nor draws conclusions from coherent individual observations. It coordinates elements instead of subordinating them” (viii, ix). Accordingly, the book does not pursue a unitary thesis, and readers are more likely to browse its varied contents than to read it straight through. Its breadth and associative style distinguish it from more conventional literary-historical studies like Deidre Shauna Lynch’s The Economy of Character: Novels, Market Culture, and the Business of Inner Meaning (1998), Alex Woloch’s One vs. the Many: Minor Characters and the Space of the Protagonist in the Novel (2003), and Elizabeth Fowler’s Literary Character: The Human Figure in Early English Writing (2003)—which make historicist arguments within bounded time frames. Frow is after something more capacious. Still, recurring themes knit Frow’s volume together, and these are usefully outlined in the preface (ix–x) and in the chapter summaries found at the end of the first chapter (32–35).The book falls into eight chapters: “Figure,” “Interest,” “Person,” “Type,” “Voice,” “Name,” “Face,” and “Body.” Each chapter has between six and ten sections, and each section refracts the chapter’s theme through a different text or context. The range of materials in a particular chapter can be enormous. “Interest,” for instance, weaves together digital gaming, Freudian theories of identification, incitements to sympathy in the eighteenth-century novel, and debates on pornography. Given the difficulty of summarizing such heterogeneity, I focus my descriptions below on the chapters’ respective conceptual contributions.The first chapter, “Figure,” explores the tension between two traditions of analyzing literary characters—one that treats characters as though they were real people, another that insists on their status as elements in a textual structure. It is the movement between these perspectives that gives narrative figuration its unique dynamism. Frow foregrounds the composite nature of character, which “is not an autonomous and distinct textual unit but, rather, the site of a diffuse semantic effect”; it is “not a stable given that can be recognized, but rather a construct which evolves through the course of reading” (24). These observations are in keeping with the book’s acute sensitivity to the phenomenological constitution of literary entities. The following chapter, “Interest,” considers the energies of recognition and identification that simultaneously shape audiences and the characters to which they respond. The avatar in electronic gaming is “the mechanism by which the player is inscribed, both functionally and affectively, into the game,” not unlike the way that positions of enunciation inscribe readers: “The binding-in of the reading or viewing or speaking subject occurs above all in its slotting into these positions which constitute it as a subject in the very process of making sense” (47, 41). Particularly suggestive is Frow’s turn to Freud’s entwined notions of identification and narcissism, and how the “narcissistic dissemination of ego-libido” can be understood to underwrite “all historically specific regimes of identification with fictional characters” (52).The third chapter, “Person,” usefully frames personhood not as a concept but as a Foucauldian “dispositif, an evolving apparatus for the shaping of social arrangements” (71). Accordingly, Frow is careful to separate the “intuitive sense of self,” which all conscious humans can be supposed to have, from the “category of the self,” which assumes different forms across historical, social, and institutional contexts. The chapter sketches a motley taxonomy of personhood, drawing on but ultimately rejecting a progressive narrative of “the successive mutations of a continuously developing entity which reaches its fullest form in modernity” (95). Frow’s claims are organized by the conviction that “there can be no general concept of ‘person,’” and there are instead only varying regimes of recognition and their lived categories (81). “Type,” the topic of the fourth chapter, explores the shared and conventional systems of knowledge by which people group, generalize, and simplify other people. The chapter moves from the character types compiled by Aristotle’s pupil Theophrastus to the revival and adaptation of Theophrastus in the late seventeenth century, and finally to the “emergence of a new modality of fiction” in the realist novel’s “asemantic and non-referential proper name” (113). An analysis of Hamlet aptly illustrates the tensions between subjectivity and type in one of western literature’s defining characters. Amid his literary reflections, Frow also includes a profoundly thoughtful excursus on how everyday ways of knowing should be fitted within broader epistemological hierarchies (119–22).“Voice” is, for me, the most fascinating chapter of the book. By voice, Frow does not mean anything sonic per se, but rather the “situational positioning” of pronouns, verb tense, and deixis “by which selves are represented in discourse” (149). Clarifying engagements with Emile Benveniste, on grammatical person, and Erving Goffman, on “the ‘production format’ of the utterance,” prepare the way for a delightfully lucid account of impersonal narration and free indirect discourse (165). At the heart of the matter is how deixis comes unstuck from enunciation: “‘impersonal’ narration shifts its deictic center from the situation of the utterance which is the norm for spoken language, to the spatio-temporal coordinates corresponding to the central or focalized character” (168). As a result, “fictional character produces the effect of belonging simultaneously to discourse and to representation” (175). Frow concludes with a reflection on subjectivity in language and how deictic shifters “at once situate me and render me discontinuous with myself, or rather constitute my self as a site of shifting reference” (180). “Name,” the sixth chapter, examines the never-unsystematic ways that nomination inscribes individuals into “the social order, tying bodies to language to make us recognizable as persons or non-persons” (181). Frow acknowledges the well-developed philosophical conversation on proper names and referring expressions but points out its limited utility for more richly determined cultural contexts. Literary character is not constituted, after all, by the proper name: “It is only by an extrapolation from the level of language to the semantic level, and the ‘world’ figured forth there, that we recognize the quasi-persons of fictional texts” (187). Frow’s attempts to trace the literary evolution of proper names from medieval romance to the modern novel is not, alas, especially convincing, and the chapter’s focus wavers during the long reading of Proust. However, the concluding discussion of Fernando Pessoa’s heteronyms returns to relevance.Perhaps the least successful chapters in Character and Person are the final pair, “Face” and “Body.” Neither topic is based squarely in the problematics of language and representation that have concerned the book to this point, and the issues they raise thus seem somewhat afield. The chapters nonetheless contain moments of luminous interest. Proust’s descriptions of Albertine make an apt exemplar of the face’s “virtual multidimensionality that, over time, generates its discrepant realizations whilst appearing at any one moment as a single thing” (234). The interplay between mask and voice in the New Comedy becomes a clever analogue for Aristotelian ēthos and pathos and a generative means of investigating comic characters more generally. The final chapter lays out a careful critique of mind-body dualism, which acknowledges both how difficult it is to eradicate the “brain in a vat” model of subjectivity but also how untenable it is to posit the immediacy of body to consciousness. The relation is rather one of “complex mediations and disjunctions” (285). Frow usefully clarifies the difference between “body schema” and “body image,” and he also meditates beautifully on Richard Powers’s novel Galatea 2.2, where, in the interaction of computation and human language, the bodily roots of “conceptuality itself” become evident (275). The book then draws to a close without epilogue or afterword, and readers are left with the kaleidoscopic afterimages of its sundry analytical frames.Character and Person is a treasury of insights on fictional being, social recognition, language, and representation. The intricacy and breadth of Frow’s reflections will make it an important resource—ideally, a conceptual prolegomenon—for critics investigating fictional character in more conventional studies, bound by genre or period. Its one serious weakness is its failure to give a global account of its archive of sources, which means that unreckoned-with bias begins to slant its central concepts. As mentioned above, the selection of intertexts favors literary innovation, especially the novel’s development and modernist experimentation. Popular genres of mass culture are relatively neglected; there is little consideration of ideologies and institutions of dehumanization; and one might have hoped for more engagement with performance, theatricality, and medium specificity. Yet every book has its limits, and while an explicit account of those limits is desirable, Character and Person does more than most to redefine received parameters of thought. The precision of the distinctions Frow cuts and the originality of the connections he draws make this an important contribution to “sociological poetics,” one that brilliantly ruminates on the variable interplay between “formal categor[ies] and particular forms of life” (x–xi). Previous articleNext article DetailsFiguresReferencesCited by Modern Philology Volume 115, Number 4May 2018 Article DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1086/695968HistoryPublished online December 01, 2017 For permission to reuse, please contact [email protected]PDF download Crossref reports no articles citing this article.

Bodies of Literature

ONE'S OCCUPATION TO A GREAT EXTENT determines the degree to which he or she is successful in life. Success in an occupation gives one a feeling of well-being and self-satisfaction that one has adequately fulfilled a place and role in life and in the community. At the same time one's use of a particular register of language or dialect on as well as off the job often determines the degree of success in it. Some employers expect their employees to use a kind of language that they think lends prestige to the company and an air of competence to the employees. Some employers use this kind of language themselves and expect their employees to use it on the job simply because they believe it to be the best brand of English. The kind of language most often preferred for these reasons in the business community is standard or educated English, the language some people call good English. In order to determine the degree to which employers want their employees to use certain varieties of a language or dialect, I undertook to study the hiring, assigning, and employing patterns of certain employers who listened to varieties of English and then decided which one was most appropriate for their jobs.1 During the summer of 1980, I visited and interviewed thirty-five potential and actual employers of students and graduates of John Tyler Community College who lived and worked in Richmond, Virginia; Chesterfield County, Virginia; Henrico County, Virginia; Petersburg, Virginia; and Chester, Virginia, where the college is located. Dr. David L. Richards, a professional from John Tyler with no pronounced dialect features, interviewed five students and recorded the interviews; he also aided in the data compilation of the research study. I visited the employers who had granted me permission to interview them for about twenty minutes. I played each employer five tape recordings: a practice tape, one tape on which the male student interviewed used standard English, one on which a female student used standard English, one on which a male and one on which a female student used non-standard English. The

The article raises the question of the significance of the theme of death for Shostakovich’s creative work. It is argued that the composer’s thanatology originates in his childhood compositions, as indicated by a number of titles of completed or conceived opuses; it continues in a number of episodes in the works of his youth and mature creative periods, from Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District to the Eleventh Symphony; and finally, acquires a special treatment in the late period, from the Fourteenth Symphony to the Suite on Verses of Michelangelo Buonarroti, where it is signaled by the poetic texts themselves. It is proven that the presence of the image of death is not limited to the list of works with an explicitly stated program of this kind. Using the example of two opuses from the early and late periods — the Suite for Piano, Op. 6, and String Quartet No. 12, Op. 133 — the article examines how quotations and stylistic allusions create a corresponding subtext and lead to the formation of an internal narrative focused on the problem of death. The question is raised regarding the degree of the composer’s conscious use of “another’s words” in such cases where authorial commentary is absent. It is emphasized that quotation allowed Shostakovich to create music as an art of communication, not limited to formal exploration or the setting of new technical tasks. The conclusion is drawn that the existential comprehension and experience of the phenomenon of death forms a kind of dotted line of meaning throughout Shostakovich’s artistic biography — perhaps its central theme, with his attitude towards it changing during different periods of his life. Keywords: musical thanatology, Dmitry Shostakovich, Suite for two pianos op. 6, Quartet No. 12 op. 133, Hector Berlioz, Mikhail Glinka, Modest Mussorgsky, Sergei Rachmaninoff For citation: Raku, M. G. (2025). Shostakovich and death: A lifelong musical thanatology. Contemporary Musicology, 9(4), 132–169. https://doi.org/10.56620/2587-9731-2025-4-132-169

Reading comprehension is a critical component of the learning process, particularly for students, as it is considered a fundamental skill that must be acquired. The current study utilizes the first movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" as an experimental condition, given its slow-tempo properties. The primary aim of the study is to investigate the impact of slow-tempo classical music on the reading comprehension abilities of university students. A between-subject, randomized two-group design, post-test only research approach was utilized, with a total of 30 students participating in the study. The measurement of reading comprehension was conducted using the UTBK 2021 TPS test, with the experimental group taking the test while listening to Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata," while the control group took the test without music. The study employs a two-tailed hypothesis and indicates that the Ha hypothesis is rejected. Therefore, it can be concluded that listening to classical music, specifically the "Moonlight Sonata 1st Movement" by Beethoven, does not have a significant effect on the reading comprehension abilities of students. However, it is recommended that students explore studying with and without music to determine their preferred method.

Chaucer’s “Court Baron”: Law and The Canterbury Tales

Charles de Vivray's Three Concerts Music is a keystone in the entire work of Marie Krysinska, who was first and foremost a musician. Guided by the rule of universal harmony, the perfect realisations of which are musical compositions, she applies it in her poems as well as in her narrative texts. Krysinska's novel, La Force du désir [The Force of Desire], was read in its time primarily as a roman à clef. Behind the literary characters are real people: poets, writers, actresses, singers, journalists, composers. One of the portraits is particularly touching, that of de Vivray whose real-life prototype was Charles-Erhardt de Sivry. A musician, conductor, poet and music theorist, de Sivry charmed listeners with his compositions. In the diegesis, all his professional activities are mentioned, more or less revealed. Thanks to Charles de Vivray's three concerts, the novelistic space transforms into a musical space.

British literature of the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries is replete with literary characters who read Werther . Just a fifty-year sampling following Werther 's publication demonstrates that characters in some of the most widely read British authors, from Herbert Croft, Maria Edgeworth, Charlotte Smith, William Godwin, Jane Austen, to Sydney Owenson, quote from or allude to Werther. Werther 's most famous contemporary extended citation and analysis may occur in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein . Goethe's novel and title character serve as a source of contemporary artistic material and literary inspiration. To reconsider Werther 's role in these well known and under-read texts is to reexamine the novel's importance within contemporary British fiction.

In this interview, Deirdre Madden discusses her work and influences, putting them in the context of her early life in Northern Ireland, her studies at Trinity College Dublin and the University of East Anglia, and her years spent living abroad on the Continent. She talks about how she became a writer, and about significant themes in her work, including home and domesticity. She discusses how she crafts her work and speaks of literary influences, including Marcel Proust, T. S. Eliot, and Henry James. Themes in her novels include time, transience, and memory. These ideas, together with the significance of family as a subject, and the Northern Irish Troubles are all explored in the interview. Another important theme is the visual arts, including painting and photography – both how these works are produced and what they might mean to the viewer. These art forms, in which something is made, are contrasted to acting, which is performative. There are reflections on the nature of identity, and how it may be constructed. Madden’s interest in material culture and the psychic force apparent in objects is also considered in detail. Whether or not her work belongs fully to the tradition of realism is discussed. Finally, she reflects upon her writing for children and speculates on future work.

Reviewed by: The Art of Being: Poetics of the Novel and Existentialist Philosophy by Yi-Ping Ong Marta Figlerowicz ONG, YI-PING. The Art of Being: Poetics of the Novel and Existentialist Philosophy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018. 304 pp. $45.00 hardcover; $45.00 e-book. Elaine Scarry's Dreaming by the Book (1999), now twenty years old, has had a considerable afterlife as a looming critical spirit. Or, rather, as a looming uncritical spirit: for the great risk of Scarry's book, which won it as many detractors as proponents, was what the detractors described as its 'wide-eyed' quality. We know that characters are not real people, and books are not real worlds. But good novels—Scarry insisted—nevertheless feel real, more like an actual dream than like a daydream, even to people who read and analyze them as a profession. Instead of dispelling these experiences of credulousness, we ought better to understand them. Yi-Ping Ong, a former graduate student of Scarry's, is one of the scholars to take up this challenge. Where Scarry focused on the sensory, Ong focuses on the ontological. In what ways, she wonders, do novels give us the impression, however fleeting, that its characters actually exist? Some answer to this question, she argues, is foundational to any definition of the novel that values it as something more than a social commentary or symptom: "in order for a novel to attain the condition of a work of art—to be a novel, as opposed to a theoretical analysis, a psychological portrait, a sociological account, or a subjective series of reflections—it must represent lives in such a compelling way that the reader may accept them as actually existing" (22). The stakes are high; Ong raises them further by offering her reader a two-pronged answer. Through close readings of major novels from across the European realist canon, she establishes the formal features that contribute to this impression: an incompletely objective narrative viewpoint, character unpredictability, plot open-endedness. From these formal features, many of which will seem intuitive to a narratologist, Ong makes a daring philosophical leap. The ontology that underpins this collection of mimetic axioms, she claims, is an implicit but clear precursor of late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century existentialism. Before Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Søren Kierkegaard, and Martin Heidegger theorized this philosophical standpoint, the realist novel as a genre embodied it as a necessary condition for its powerful aesthetic effects. Many existentialists wrote novels of their own. These novels have conventionally been taken as illustrations of their principles; Ong sees them as these principles' enactments. She also argues, more broadly, that "[a]n existentialist poetics of realism makes it possible to discern and ascribe critical importance to various strategies for portraying characterological freedom, worldhood, and detotalized aesthetic form" (236). To recognize the novel as a fundamentally existentialist project—a form of art that immerses its reader in (and because of) its existentialist view of humanity—allows one better to appreciate both the ways in which it moves us, and the depth and complexity of the worldview into which we are thereby inducted. Sartre made a passing appearance in Dreaming by the Book as a theorist of the flimsiness of our untrained, undirected imaginations. Ong elevates him—with Beauvoir, Kierkegaard, and Heidegger—to the status of a theorist, at once, of persuasive novelistic character construction and human life itself. The readings through which Ong establishes these parallels between literary realism and philosophical existentialism are masterful, wide-ranging, and compelling. To her great credit, she considers not only predictable examples—such as the fiction of Fyodor Dostoevsky—but also counterintuitive ones. In an extended reading of Emma, she turns on its head the familiar dictum about the supposed detachment of Jane [End Page 103] Austen's narrators, showing us that "in [Emma's] overt comparison between its own matchmaking plot and the machinations of Emma, what emerges is neither the mere erasure of authority nor its deflation, but rather its deliberate invocation for the purpose of parody" (212). In a spellbinding introductory chapter on Anna Karenina, she shows that Leo Tolstoy's theory of reading presumes...

The distinguishing feature of Liu Hsieh's ”The Theory of Genres” in ”Wen Hsin Tiao Lung” (The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons) is to include articles with and without rhymes in the literary field. At this rate, the classics, histories and biographies are all literary works. It provides immense space for the development of later fiction. Thus successors can absorb nutrition from the classics, histories and biographies to proceed with fiction-writing.In Liu Hsieh's ”The Origin of Literature”, he allocates two chapters, ”Rectifying Latitude” and ”Distinguishing Lisao”, to compliment the fantastic imagination of books on divination and to affirm the figures of speech in Chu Yuan's ”Lisao”. In various chapters of ”The Theory of Genres”, embellishment of certain histories and biographies, exaggeration of the thinkers' prose, and elegance of the poetic works are affirmed from the perspective of literature. The aforementioned factors happen to be the characteristics of literary fiction.Fiction as a genre was established in the Han dynasty by Ban Gu. It was listed along with the thinkers' prose. At that time, it was not combined with the nonexistent contents of literary fiction. But early in the Pre-Qin dynasty, mythology, fable, legend, story and the description of some fictitious elements and details in ”Zuo Zhuan” had contained the emerging factors of fiction.”The Theory of Styles” in ”Wen Hsin Tiao Lung” includes a genre called ”Burlesque” which the author Liu Hsieh compares to fiction author as the latter is classified in ”the nine schools and ten professionals”. It has the concept of genre distinction and analysis. A variety of chapters in ”The Theory of Genres”, such as ”Argumentation”, ”Historical Biographies”, ”Thinkers' Prose”, ”Interpretive Poesy”, ”Essay” and ”Burlesque”, all refer to the attribution of literary fiction. From the pro-classic stance, Liu Hsieh criticizes innovation, absurdity, exaggeration and elegance as they do not conform to the classic genres. Nevertheless, he endorses their artistic achievement from the literary perspective.This article aims to illustrate the exclusive knowledge of ”Rectifying Latitude” and ”Distinguishing Lisao” in ”Wen Hsin Tiao Lung”. It also elaborates on the fiction-related imagination, exaggeration, absurdity and elegance in ”Argumentation”, ”Historical Biographies”, ”Thinkers' Prose”, ”Interpretive Poesy”, ”Essay” and ”Burlesque” in ”The Theory of Genres” so as to demonstrate Liu Hsieh's excellent vision which compromises the past and the present. He was indeed an outstanding literary thinker. In the early 20th century, fiction, after having been cultivated for a long period of time finally, in the sense of pure literature, reached the state in which the name and the reality of fiction were in complete accord.

The theme of this report is to explore the writing features about natural and ecocline protection in the modern poems since 1990. To sum up, in respect of the writing form and features, the natural ecology poems have two characters since 1990. First, as regards the phenomena of mind, viewing field, society problem and political affairs in Taiwan, many poets review them with the ecological crisis. Lots of poems present the relationship and interaction between natural system and social structure, that unfold the complete feature of ecological balance. Secondly, many poets try to describe and reconstruct the space-time frame and ecological prospect of the island. Lots of poems connect the environmental disruption with the historical and geographical features of Taiwan, even connect it with the regions around Taiwan and make a comprehensive reflection upon them. Thus, these natural ecology poems present another space-time graphs of Taiwan and construct the vivid dynamic projection of ecological state about Taiwan. Since 1990, in respect of the literary feature, the ecological poems have more artistic features and become even more softer. In this respect, the writing skills of personification and childish style are particularly important. On the one hand, the above state tell readers that the poetic feeling and the aesthetic value must be learnt from the nature, and childish mind, poetic beauty and the nature can not be separated practically. On the other hand, these natural ecology poems also contribute the width and broadness of thinking extent by the high level of aesthetic and artistic state. Thus, the green ideology and mind in the domain of poetry may give full scope to creativity, and we may say that these natural ecology poems make a deep cultivation of the natural preservation in the culture.