Episodios

  • S19E6: "Aubade" by Philip Larkin
    Jul 7 2025

    In this 19th season of the Well Read Poem, the principal theme of the six poems selected is that of Death. We selected these poems to provide a variety of imaginative treatments of what Henry James called "The Distinguished Thing", drawing on the writings of poets of different centuries, cultures and perspectives. We hope they are enjoyable, illuminating, and not so dismal as to discolor anyone's summer.

    Today's selection is "Aubade" by Philip Larkin. Readings begin at timestamps 2:49 and 8:25.

    To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/.

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    14 m
  • S19E5: "The Twa Corbies" Anonymous Scottish
    Jun 30 2025

    In this 19th season of the Well Read Poem, the principal theme of the six poems selected is that of Death. We selected these poems to provide a variety of imaginative treatments of what Henry James called "The Distinguished Thing", drawing on the writings of poets of different centuries, cultures and perspectives. We hope they are enjoyable, illuminating, and not so dismal as to discolor anyone's summer.

    Today's selection is "The Twa Corbies" of anonymous Scottish origin. Readings begin at timestamps 4:25 and 8:45.

    To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/.

    The Twa Corbies

    Anonymous, Scottish

    As I was walking all alane,
    I heard twa corbies making a mane;
    The tane unto the t’other say,
    ‘Where sall we gang and dine the day?’

    ‘In behind yon auld fail dyke,
    I wot there lies a new slain knight;
    And naebody kens that he lies there,
    But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

    ‘His hound is to the hunting gane,
    His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
    His lady’s ta’en another mate,
    So we may make our dinner sweet.

    ‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
    And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een;
    Wi ae lock o his gowden hair,
    We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.

    ‘Mony an ane for him makes mane,
    But nane sall ken whare he is gane;
    Oer his white banes, when they are bare,
    The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

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    13 m
  • S19E4: "Ecclesiastes 12" from the King James Version
    Jun 23 2025

    In this 19th season of the Well Read Poem, the principal theme of the six poems selected is that of Death. We selected these poems to provide a variety of imaginative treatments of what Henry James called "The Distinguished Thing", drawing on the writings of poets of different centuries, cultures and perspectives. We hope they are enjoyable, illuminating, and not so dismal as to discolor anyone's summer.

    Today's selection is "Ecclesiates 12" from the King James Version of the Bible. Readings begin at timestamps 5:08 and 8:55.

    To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/.

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    13 m
  • S19E3: "Elegies 11.28" by Propertius (Translated by Constance Carrier)
    Jun 16 2025

    In this 19th season of the Well Read Poem, the principal theme of the six poems selected is that of Death. We selected these poems to provide a variety of imaginative treatments of what Henry James called "The Distinguished Thing", drawing on the writings of poets of different centuries, cultures and perspectives. We hope they are enjoyable, illuminating, and not so dismal as to discolor anyone's summer.

    Today's selection is "Elegies 11.28" by Propertius (Translated by Constance Carrier). Readings begin at timestamps 4:34 and 6:54.

    To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/.

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    11 m
  • S19E2: "On a Dead Child" by Robert Bridges
    Jun 9 2025

    In this 19th season of the Well Read Poem, the principal theme of the six poems selected is that of Death. We selected these poems to provide a variety of imaginative treatments of what Henry James called "The Distinguished Thing", drawing on the writings of poets of different centuries, cultures and perspectives. We hope they are enjoyable, illuminating, and not so dismal as to discolor anyone's summer.

    Today's selection is "On a Dead Child" by Robert Bridges. Reading begins at timestamp 4:24.

    To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/.

    On a Dead Child

    By Robert Bridges Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee, With promise of strength and manhood full and fair! Though cold and stark and bare, The bloom and the charm of life doth awhile remain on thee. Thy mother’s treasure wert thou;—alas! no longer To visit her heart with wondrous joy; to be Thy father’s pride;—ah, he Must gather his faith together, and his strength make stronger. To me, as I move thee now in the last duty, Dost thou with a turn or gesture anon respond; Startling my fancy fond With a chance attitude of the head, a freak of beauty. Thy hand clasps, as ’twas wont, my finger, and holds it: But the grasp is the clasp of Death, heartbreaking and stiff; Yet feels to my hand as if ’Twas still thy will, thy pleasure and trust that enfolds it. So I lay thee there, thy sunken eyelids closing,— Go lie thou there in thy coffin, thy last little bed!— Propping thy wise, sad head, Thy firm, pale hands across thy chest disposing. So quiet! doth the change content thee?—Death, whither hath he taken thee? To a world, do I think, that rights the disaster of this? The vision of which I miss, Who weep for the body, and wish but to warm thee and awaken thee? Ah! little at best can all our hopes avail us To lift this sorrow, or cheer us, when in the dark, Unwilling, alone we embark, And the things we have seen and have known and have heard of, fail us.
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    12 m
  • S19E1: "Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke" by William Browne
    Jun 2 2025

    In this 19th season of the Well Read Poem, the principal theme of the six poems selected will be that of Death. We selected these poems to provide a variety of imaginative treatments of what Henry James called "The Distinguished Thing", drawing on the writings of poets of different centuries, cultures and perspectives. We hope they are enjoyable, illuminating, and not so dismal as to discolor anyone's summer.

    Today's selection is "Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke" by William Browne. Readings begin at timestamps 9:35 and 12:15.

    To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/.

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    14 m
  • S18E6: "A Prayer for My Daughter" by William Butler Yeats
    Feb 10 2025
    Welcome back to Season 18 of the Well Read Poem. During this season, we are offering 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 "A Prayer for My Daughter" by William Butler Yeats. Poem reading begins at timestamp 5:25. To learn more about this podcast and host Thomas Banks, visit https://www.theliterary.life/the-well-read-poem/. A Prayer for My Daughter by William Butler Yeats Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle But Gregory's Wood and one bare hill Whereby the haystack and roof-levelling wind, Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed; And for an hour I have walked and prayed Because of the great gloom that is in my mind. I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour, And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower, And under the arches of the bridge, and scream In the elms above the flooded stream; Imagining in excited reverie That the future years had come Dancing to a frenzied drum Out of the murderous innocence of the sea. May she be granted beauty, and yet not Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught, Or hers before a looking-glass; for such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness, and maybe The heart-revealing intimacy That chooses right, and never find a friend. Helen, being chosen, found life flat and dull, And later had much trouble from a fool; While that great Queen that rose out of the spray, Being fatherless, could have her way, Yet chose a bandy-leggèd smith for man. It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone. In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned; Hearts are not had as a gift, but hearts are earned By those that are not entirely beautiful. Yet many, that have played the fool For beauty's very self, has charm made wise; And many a poor man that has roved, Loved and thought himself beloved, From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes. May she become a flourishing hidden tree, That all her thoughts may like the linnet be, And have no business but dispensing round Their magnanimities of sound; Nor but in merriment begin a chase, Nor but in merriment a quarrel. Oh, may she live like some green laurel Rooted in one dear perpetual place. My mind, because the minds that I have loved, The sort of beauty that I have approved, Prosper but little, has dried up of late, Yet knows that to be choked with hate May well be of all evil chances chief. If there's no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf. An intellectual hatred is the worst, So let her think opinions are accursed. Have I not seen the loveliest woman born Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn, Because of her opinionated mind Barter that horn and every good By quiet natures understood For an old bellows full of angry wind? Considering that, all hatred driven hence, The soul recovers radical innocence And learns at last that it is self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, And that its own sweet will is heaven's will, She can, though every face should scowl And every windy quarter howl Or every bellows burst, be happy still. And may her bridegroom bring her to a house Where all's accustomed, ceremonious; For arrogance and hatred are the wares Peddled in the thoroughfares. How but in custom and in ceremony Are innocence and beauty born? Ceremony's a name for the rich horn, And custom for the spreading laurel tree.
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    13 m
  • S18E5: "To My Brothers" by John Keats
    Feb 3 2025

    Welcome back to Season 18 of the Well Read Poem. During this season, we are offering 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 "To My Brothers" by John Keats. Poem reading begins at timestamp 7:36.

    To My Brothers

    by John Keats

    Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,
    And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep
    Like whispers of the household gods that keep
    A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.
    And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,
    Your eyes are fix d, as in poetic sleep,
    Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
    That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
    This is your birth-day Tom, and I rejoice
    That thus it passes smoothly, quietly.
    Many such eves of gently whisp'ring noise
    May we together pass, and calmly try
    What are this world s true joys, ere the great voice,
    From its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly.

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    11 m