Classic Poetry Aloud

L Carroll read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll (1832 – 1898) ’T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!” He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought — So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O fra

EB Browning read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- If Thou Must Love Me by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861) Sonnets from the Portuguese iv If thou must love me, let it be for naught Except for love's sake only. Do not say, 'I love her for her smile — her look — her way Of speaking gently,— for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day' — For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may Be changed, or change for thee — and love, so wrought, May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry: A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity. In memory of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who died this day, 30 June, in 1861. First aired: 12 October 2007 For hundreds mor

W Wordsworth read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Daffodils by William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850) I wander'd lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They

Sir E Dyer read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- My Mind to Me a Kingdom by Sir Edward Dyer (d. 1607) My mind to me a kingdom is; Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely pomp, no wealthy store, No force to win the victory, No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to feed a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall; For why? my mind doth serve for all. I see how plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all: They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a kin

EA Robinson read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Eros Turannos by Edwin Arlington Robinson(1869 – 1935) She fears him, and will always ask What fated her to choose him; She meets in his engaging mask All reasons to refuse him; But what she meets and what she fears Are less than are the downward years, Drawn slowly to the foamless weirs Of age, were she to lose him. Between a blurred sagacity That once had power to sound him, And Love, that will not let him be The Judas that she found him, Her pride assuages her almost, As if it were alone the cost.— He sees that he will not be lost, And waits and looks around him. A sense of ocean and old trees Envelops and allures him; Tradition, touching all he sees, Beguiles and reassures him; And all her doubts of what he says Are dimmed with what she knows of days— Till even prejudice delays And fades, and she secures him. Th

J Keats read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be by John Keats (1795 - 1821) When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high pil'ed books, in charact'ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

R Lovelace read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- To Althea from Prison by Richard Lovelace (1618 – 1657) When Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye, The gods, that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses bound, Our hearts with loyal flames; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes, that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty. When (like committed linnets) I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty, And glories of my king; When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone

J Clare read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Summer by John Clare(1793 – 1864) Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come, For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom, And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest, And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast; She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting of her hair, And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair; I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest, And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast. The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May, The merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day, And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's breast; I'll lean upon her breast and I'll whisper in her ear That I cannot get a wink o'sleep for thinking of my dear; I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away

E Dickinson read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- After Great Pain by Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886) After great pain, a formal feeling comes – The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs – The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round – A Wooden way Of Ground, or Air, or Ought – Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone – This is the Hour of Lead – Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow – First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go – For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

T Hardy read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- I Look Into My Glass by Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928) I look into my glass, And view my wasting skin, And say, "Would God it came to pass My heart had shrunk as thin!" For then I, undistrest By hearts grown cold to me, Could lonely wait my endless rest With equanimity. But Ti

E FitzGerald read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam translated by by Edward FitzGerald (1809 – 1883) I Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light. II Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry, "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry." III And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door! You know how little time we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more." VII Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing. X With me along some Strip of Herbage strown That jus

T Moore read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore(1779 – 1852) ’Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, To give sigh for sigh. I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o’er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from Love’s shining circle The gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone? For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

Hunt read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- Abou ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt (1784 - 1859) Abou ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw—within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom— An angel, writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, ‘What writest thou?’—The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, ‘The names of those who love the Lord.’ ‘And is mi

Longfellow read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

Sill read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Opportunity by Edward Rowland Sill(1841 – 1887) This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:- There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel- That blue blade that the king's son bears,-but this Blunt thing-!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away and left the field. Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, And saved a great cause that heroic day. For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Clas

Meredith read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Love’s Grave by George Meredith (1828 – 1909) Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back'd wave! Here is a fitting spot to dig Love's grave; Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand In hearing of the ocean, and in sight Of those ribb'd wind-streaks running into white. If I the death of Love

Bradstreet read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- To My Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672) If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee. If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can. I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee give recompense. Thy love is such I can no way repay.

Stevenson read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- Now When the Number of My Years by Robert Louis Stevenson(1850 – 1894) Now when the number of my years Is all fulfilled, and I From sedentary life Shall rouse me up to die, Bury me low and let me lie Under the wide and starry sky. Joying to live, I joyed to die, Bury me low and let me lie. Clear was my soul, my deeds were free, Honour was called my name, I fell not back from fear Nor followed after fame. Bury me low and let me lie Under the wide and starry sky. Joying to live, I joyed to die, Bury me low and let me lie. Bury me low in valleys green And where the milder breeze Blows fresh along the stream, Sings roundly in the trees - Bury me low and let me lie Under the wide and starry sky. Joying to live, I joyed to die, Bury me low and let me lie. For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poe

Shelley read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------- To The Men Of England by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 – 1822) Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save, From the cradle to the grave, Those ungrateful drones who would Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood? Wherefore, Bees of England, forge Many a weapon, chain, and scourge, That these stingless drones may spoil The forced produce of your toil? Have ye leisure, comfort, calm, Shelter, food, love's gentle balm? Or what is it ye buy so dear With your pain and with your fear? The seed ye sow another reaps; The wealth ye find another keeps; The robes ye weave another wears; The arms ye forge another bears. Sow seed, -- but let no tyrant reap; Find wealth, -- let no imposter heap; Weave robes, -- let not the idle wear; Forg

Flecker read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://classicpoetryaloud.podomatic.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. --------------------------------------------------- To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence by James Elroy Flecker I who am dead a thousand years, And wrote this sweet archaic song, Send you my words for messengers The way I shall not pass along. I care not if you bridge the seas, Or ride secure the cruel sky, Or build consummate palaces Of metal or of masonry. But have you wine and music still, And statues and a bright-eyed love, And foolish thoughts of good and ill, And prayers to them who sit above?