The magic of poetry : Revisited

I’ve always liked poetry. Not that I have ever written a single poem nor will I ever write. But there is something about that genre which warms the soul like no other. The words kinda touch you and though the lines may soon be forgotten, the imagery still dances in your head evoking memories, scenes and even smells.
I am doing one paper on French Poetry. I have really appreciated French Poetry or studied it in such depth. As a child, I have come first in every recitation competition that I have taken part in. I have loved learning verses and sonnets. Some of them I still do remember, most of them lie forgotten. But I have never formally learnt poems in French.
And so it was, as part of the lecture on introduction to rythme and rime in the writing of poetry, we were doing Verlaine’s Chanson d’automne. That really was something. After we’d read it a couple of times, the lines just stuck in my head. And voila, there Iwas actually reciting a poem in French. I have treasured that moment. I never thought there would be a point in my life when I could recite a poem in French. And am thrilled to say the least. I am raring to go. I hope to be able to recite twenty poems (in French) by the end of the semester.