Classic Poetry Aloud

W Wordsworth read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Scorn not the Sonnet by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850) Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camöens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glitt

W Blake read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- London by William Blake (1757 – 1827) 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 str

O Wilde read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- San Miniato by Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900) See, I have climbed the mountain side Up to this holy house of God, Where once that Angel-Painter trod Who saw the heavens opened wide, And throned upon the crescent moon The Virginal white Queen of Grace, - Mary! could I but see thy face Death could not come at all too soon. O crowned by God with thorns and pain! Mother of Christ! O mystic wife! My heart is weary of this life And over-sad to sing again. O crowned by God with love and flame! O crowned by Christ the Holy One! O listen ere the searching sun Show to the world my sin and shame. For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

S Coleridge read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Child by Sara Coleridge (1802 – 1850) See yon blithe child that dances in our sight! Can gloomy shadows fall from one so bright? Fond mother, whence these fears? While buoyantly he rushes o'er the lawn, Dream not of clouds to stain his manhood's dawn, Nor dim that sight with tears. No cloud he spies in brightly glowing hours, But feels as if the newly vested bowers For him could never fade: Too well we know that vernal pleasures fleet, But having him, so gladsome, fair, and sweet, Our loss is overpaid. Amid the balmiest flowers that earth can give Some bitter drops distil, and all that live A mingled portion share; But, while he learns these truths which we lament, Such fortitude as ours will sure be sent, Such solace to his care. For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic P

W Owen read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen (1893 – 1918) What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, – The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pa

A Marvell read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- A Garden: Written after the Civil Wars by Andrew Marvell (1621 – 1678) See how the flowers, as at parade, Under their colours stand display'd: Each regiment in order grows, That of the tulip, pink, and rose. But when the vigilant patrol Of stars walks round about the pole, Their leaves, that to the stalks are curl'd, Seem to their staves the ensigns furl'd. Then in some flower's beloved hut Each bee, as sentinel, is shut, And sleeps so too; but if once stirr'd, She runs you through, nor asks the word. O thou, that dear and happy Isle, The garden of the world erewhile, Thou Paradise of the four seas Which Heaven planted us to please, But, to exclude the world, did guard With wat'ry if not flaming sword; What luckless apple did we taste To make us mortal and thee waste! Unhappy! shall we never more That sweet militia restore, When gardens only had

C Patmore read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Toys by Coventry Patmore (1823 – 1896) My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, I struck him, and dismiss'd With hard words and unkiss'd, — His Mother, who was patient, being dead. Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,

A. O’Shaughnessy read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- from the Daughter of Herodias by Arthur O’Shaughnessy (1844 – 1881) Her long black hair danced round her like a snake Allured to each charmed movement she did make; Her voice came strangely sweet; She sang: “ O, Herod, wilt thou look on me – Have I no beauty thy heart cares to see ?” And what her voice did sing her dancing feet Seemed ever to repeat. She sang:” O, Herod, wilt thou look on me ? What sweet I have, I have it all for thee”. And through the dance and song She freed and floated on the air her arms Above dim veils that hid her bosom’s charms: The passion of her singing was so strong It drew all hearts along. Her sweet arms were unfolded on the air, They seemed like floating flowers the most fair – White lilies the most choice; And in the gradual bending of her hand There lurked a grace that no man could withsta

W Shakespeare read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Sonnet 130 My Mistress' Eyes by William Shakespeare My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red:

HW Longfellow read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Day is Done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time. For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life’s endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long fo

Lord Byron read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- All for Love by Lord Byron (1788 – 1824) O talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty. What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? 'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled: Then away with all such from the head that is hoary - What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory? O Fame! if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover

A Behn read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Song from Abdelazar by Aphra Behn (1640 - 1689) To celebrate the birthday of Aphra Behn on this day - 10 July - in 1640. Love in fantastic triumph sat, Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd, For whom fresh pains he did create, And strange tyrannic power he shew'd; From thy bright eyes he took his fire, Which round about in sport he hurl'd; But 'twas from mine he took desire Enough to undo the amorous world. From me he took his sighs and tears, From thee his pride and cruelty;

R Brooke read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Hill by Rupert Brooke (1887 – 1915) Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass. You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass; Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still, When we are old, are old. . . ." "And when we die All's over that is ours; and life burns on Through other lovers, other lips," said I, -- "Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!" "We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here. Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said; "We shall go down with unreluctant tread Rose-crowned into the darkness!" . . . Proud we were, And laughed, that had such brave true things to say. -- And then you suddenly cried, and turned away. First aired: 30 July 2007 For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud

PB Shelley read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Indian Serenade by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 – 1822) Read in memory of Percy Bysshe Shelley, who died of drowning, 8th July 1822. I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me—who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream—

W Wordsworth read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- She was a Phantom of Delight by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850) She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament: Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between l

E Thomas read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- Adelstrop by Edward Thomas ((1878 – 1917) Yes. I remember Adlestrop — The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Some one cleared his throat. No one left and no one came On the bare platform. What I saw Was Adlestrop — only the name And willows, willow-herb, and grass, And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry, No whit less still and lonely fair Than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for th

W Shakespeare read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Sonnet 57 Being your Slave by William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616) Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those! So true a fool is love, that in your Will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index.

Sir J Suckling read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Dost see how unregarded now by Sir John Suckling (1609 – 1642) read to mark the death of Sir John Suckling on 3rd July 1642 Dost see how unregarded now That piece of beauty passes? There was a time when I did vow To that alone; But mark the fate of faces; The red and white works now no more on me Than if it could not charm, or I not see. And yet the face continues good, And I have still desires, Am still the selfsame flesh and blood, As apt to melt And suffer from those fires; Oh some kind pow'r unriddle where it lies, Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes? She ev'ry day her man does kill, And I as often die; Neither her power then, nor my will Can question'd be. What is the mystery? Sure beauty's empires, like to greater states, Have certain periods set, and hidden fates. F

A Lord Tennyson read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Break, Break, Break by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809 – 1892) Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill: But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. First aired: 28 August 2007 For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

JB White read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- To Night by Joseph Blanco White (1775 – 1841) Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came, And lo! Creation widened in man's view. Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find, Whilst fly and leaf and insect stood revealed,