Show Notes
During this season, we thought it appropriate to offer our listeners six poems about family life. The poems selected for this season are quite various in style and manner, and have been chosen for the light they shed on relationships between parents and children, between husbands and wives, brothers and sisters. We hope that these readings will, in their small way, add a measure of comfort and happiness to the lives of our audience during these winter months. Today's poem is "My Sister's Sleep" by Dante Rosetti. Poem reading begins at timestamp 4:13. My Sister's Sleep by Dante Rosetti She fell asleep on Christmas Eve: At length the long-ungranted shade Of weary eyelids overweigh'd The pain nought else might yet relieve.
Our mother, who had lean'd all day Over the bed from chime to chime, Then rais'd herself for the first time, And as she sat her down, did pray.
Her little work-table was spread With work to finish. For the glare Made by her candle, she had care To work some distance from the bed.
Without, there was a cold moon up, Of winter radiance sheer and thin; The hollow halo it was in Was like an icy crystal cup.
Through the small room, with subtle sound Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove And redden'd. In its dim alcove The mirror shed a clearness round.
I had been sitting up some nights, And my tired mind felt weak and blank; Like a sharp strengthening wine it drank The stillness and the broken lights.
Twelve struck. That sound, by dwindling years Heard in each hour, crept off; and then The ruffled silence spread again, Like water that a pebble stirs.
Our mother rose from where she sat: Her needles, as she laid them down, Met lightly, and her silken gown Settled: no other noise than that.
"Glory unto the Newly Born!" So, as said angels, she did say; Because we were in Christmas Day, Though it would still be long till morn.
Just then in the room over us There was a pushing back of chairs, As some who had sat unawares So late, now heard the hour, and rose.
With anxious softly-stepping haste Our mother went where Margaret lay, Fearing the sounds o'erhead—should they Have broken her long watch'd-for rest!
She stoop'd an instant, calm, and turn'd; But suddenly turn'd back again; And all her features seem'd in pain With woe, and her eyes gaz'd and yearn'd.
For my part, I but hid my face, And held my breath, and spoke no word: There was none spoken; but I heard The silence for a little space.
Our mother bow'd herself and wept: And both my arms fell, and I said, "God knows I knew that she was dead." And there, all white, my sister slept.
Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn A little after twelve o'clock We said, ere the first quarter struck, "Christ's blessing on the newly born!"
More from The Well Read Poem
As befits the time of year, we are reading six poems of Advent and Christmas during this re-airing of the fourteenth season of the Well-Read Poem. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord. Today's poem is "Christmas" by John Betjeman. Reading begins at timestamp 5:47. Christmas by John Betjeman The bells of waiting Advent ring, The Tortoise stove is lit again And lamp-oil light across the night Has caught the streaks of winter rain In many a stained-glass window sheen From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.
As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas during this season of the Well-Read Poem, which is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord. Today's poem is "Noël" by Théophile Gautier in translation by Agnes Lee. Reading begins at timestamps 5:15 and 7:00. Noël (Christmas) by Théophile Gautier, trans. by Agnes Lee Black is the sky and white the ground. O ring, ye bells, your carol's grace! The Child is born! A love profound Beams o'er Him from His Mother's face. No silken woof of costly show Keeps off the bitter cold from Him. But spider-webs have drooped them low, To be His curtain soft and dim. Now trembles on the straw downspread The Little Child, the Star beneath. To warm Him in His holy bed, Upon Him ox and ass do breathe. Snow hangs its fringes on the byre. The roof stands open to the tryst Of aureoled saints, that sweetly choir To shepherds, "Come, behold the Christ!"
As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas. This series is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. We have selected certain familiar poems, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord. Today's poem is "Good King Wenceslas" by Vaclav Svoboda in translation by John Mason Neale. Reading begins at timestamp 6:53. Good King Wenceslas by Vaclav Svoboda, translation by John Mason Neale Good King Wenceslas look'd out, On the Feast of Stephen; When the snow lay round about, Deep, and crisp, and even: Brightly shone the moon that night, Though the frost was cruel, When a poor man came in sight, Gath'ring winter fuel.
As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas. This series is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord. Today's poem is "Christmas Carol" by Sara Teasdale. Reading begins at timestamps 4:49 and 7:48. Christmas Carol by Sara Teasdale The kings they came from out the south, All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysoprase, And gifts of precious wine.
As befits the time of year, we will be re-visiting six poems of Advent and Christmas during this twentieth season of the Well-Read Poem. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord. Today's poem is "Mistletoe" by Walter de la Mare. Reading begins at timestamps 5:23 and 8:10. Mistletoe by Walter de la Mare Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.