tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75815304988422924302024-03-19T15:08:05.780-07:00Verses In VoxVerses In Vox™ is a short-form audio program featuring dramatic readings of classic poetry. It's a vehicle to experience these well-loved works in a new way while at the same time introducing them to a new audience.J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-11523586495170639012019-05-04T15:08:00.003-07:002019-05-04T15:08:43.095-07:00“Excelsior” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=17836318&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false&hide-download=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote the poem "Excelsior" in the early morning hours of September 28, 1841, and it was published for the first time in a periodical four months later. Excelsior is a Latin word which loosely translated means "ever upward" or "always higher". With that in mind, this poem could be interpreted as a sort of allegory on perseverance and always striving against the odds, or alternatively, blindly following your own desires without heeding the advice and counsel of others. Either way you choose to read the piece, it is beautifully written with lots of vivid imagery as the narrative unfolds.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/v2/episodes/17836318/download.mp3">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhqDyeDLE43d89jErxwH82wetvPbbkWIil2s47WvkqMjorMylKYhEZGfs5sSJLvgRGQpvjnc6dMnUOQNvNpiWiQ5UTl2sfpQCz2W8xSeJ0H9NFeR7LlQLXnfOe9W8fH04-vPgozDfMds/s1600/excelsior_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhqDyeDLE43d89jErxwH82wetvPbbkWIil2s47WvkqMjorMylKYhEZGfs5sSJLvgRGQpvjnc6dMnUOQNvNpiWiQ5UTl2sfpQCz2W8xSeJ0H9NFeR7LlQLXnfOe9W8fH04-vPgozDfMds/s400/excelsior_1500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/skeeze-272447/?tab=latest">skeeze</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excelsior_(Longfellow)" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "Excelsior"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Longfellow</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/henry-wadsworth-longfellow" target="_blank">Longfellow's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://poemanalysis.com/excelsior-by-henry-wadsworth-longfellow-poem-analysis/" target="_blank">Analysis of "Excelsior" from poemanalysis.com</a><br />
<a href="https://beamingnotes.com/2016/08/15/excelsior-summary-h-w-longfellow/" target="_blank">Summary of "Excelsior" from beamingnotes.com</a><br />
<a href="https://beamingnotes.com/2016/08/15/excelsior-analysis-h-w-longfellow/" target="_blank">Analysis of "Excelsior" from beamingnotes.com</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNOkUm0vI2tP-Lkr3kLocA3ygtaSCaRerf7HOxtrgCdjRDMW59ZNWsKjymbRczBERRfEez_STiIDPa65Yv9WD2HGdiE-SFfoV8_kIUgtE7B-XGYcVEYSaRU7zk1XFiLPuGHRzsmU_Bhk/s1600/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow%252C_photographed_by_Julia_Margaret_Cameron_in_1868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1159" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNOkUm0vI2tP-Lkr3kLocA3ygtaSCaRerf7HOxtrgCdjRDMW59ZNWsKjymbRczBERRfEez_STiIDPa65Yv9WD2HGdiE-SFfoV8_kIUgtE7B-XGYcVEYSaRU7zk1XFiLPuGHRzsmU_Bhk/s320/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow%252C_photographed_by_Julia_Margaret_Cameron_in_1868.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br />
photographed by Julia Margaret Cameron in 1868</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
“Excelsior” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</h3>
The shades of night were falling fast,<br />
As through an Alpine village passed<br />
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,<br />
A banner with the strange device,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,<br />
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,<br />
And like a silver clarion rung<br />
The accents of that unknown tongue,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
In happy homes he saw the light<br />
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;<br />
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,<br />
And from his lips escaped a groan,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
"Try not the Pass!" the old man said;<br />
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,<br />
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!"<br />
And loud that clarion voice replied,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest<br />
Thy weary head upon this breast! "<br />
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,<br />
But still he answered, with a sigh,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!<br />
Beware the awful avalanche!"<br />
This was the peasant's last Good-night,<br />
A voice replied, far up the height,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
At break of day, as heavenward<br />
The pious monks of Saint Bernard<br />
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,<br />
A voice cried through the startled air,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
A traveller, by the faithful hound,<br />
Half-buried in the snow was found,<br />
Still grasping in his hand of ice<br />
That banner with the strange device,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
There in the twilight cold and gray,<br />
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,<br />
And from the sky, serene and far,<br />
A voice fell, like a falling star,<br />
Excelsior!<br />
<br />
<h4>
Digital Scan of 1880 Illustrated Edition of "Excelsior" on Google Books</h4>
<iframe frameborder="0" height="500" scrolling="no" src="https://books.google.com/books?id=8AxMAQAAMAAJ&dq=Excelsior%20Henry%20Wadsworth%20Longfellow&pg=PP1&output=embed" style="border: 0px;" width="500"></iframe></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-16579029308633005622018-12-22T12:59:00.000-07:002018-12-22T12:59:02.483-07:00“Christmas At Sea” by Robert Louis Stevenson<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=16548452&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
First published in a periodical just a few days before Christmas in 1888, "Christmas at Sea" is a vivid narrative poem that pulls the reader into the scenes. The stark contrast between the warm, domestic scene and the freezing weather onboard the ship is very poignant and is the most interesting part of the piece to me. While the Scottish writer is known more for his novels, he also wrote three volumes of poetry with the first one, <i>A Child's Garden of Verses</i>, being the most known to casual poetry fans.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/v2/episodes/16548452/download.mp3">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMkvoMGeFIF0Z_ILnuGVRA-W3udNE0ceZtmWRkLpieLxpMHvq8AHm5Zm9PfaU7QYY-YN0IxypKzKHk7RLBbKaID-XlJMme2TpM6O3dr0b0WuxQPlTL7n7KArpdBTCnf0Rp6PY0T4Up3g/s1600/christmas+at+sea1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMkvoMGeFIF0Z_ILnuGVRA-W3udNE0ceZtmWRkLpieLxpMHvq8AHm5Zm9PfaU7QYY-YN0IxypKzKHk7RLBbKaID-XlJMme2TpM6O3dr0b0WuxQPlTL7n7KArpdBTCnf0Rp6PY0T4Up3g/s400/christmas+at+sea1500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://connersavocacomposer.com/" target="_blank">Conner Savoca</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/natashag-363234/?tab=about">Natasha G</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Louis_Stevenson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Robert Louis Stevenson</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-louis-stevenson">Stevenson's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/dec/24/poem-week-robert-louis-stevenson">Detailed Article on "Christmas at Sea" from The Guardian</a><br />
<a href="https://popularvictorianpoetry.wordpress.com/an-anthology-of-popular-victorian-poetry/r-l-stevensons-christmas-at-sea-in-the-scots-observer-1888/">"Christmas at Sea" Analysis</a><br />
<a href="https://julianstockwin.com/2013/12/23/christmas-at-sea/" target="_blank">A Sailor's Take on "Christmas at Sea"</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7uh-uAHxQ5Yukj3LgZR0K2v1S6iNYNw53vpqb5_euVKBmLpLUVTJyiDXYJ7UiwXYzJMjTNNQiG5NmwZl9ylo_foc097-HOkCBRF8aE47jsiokzliTD1FUPOFqMFDHGviTUi6jCgwcyk/s1600/Robert-louis-stevenson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="694" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7uh-uAHxQ5Yukj3LgZR0K2v1S6iNYNw53vpqb5_euVKBmLpLUVTJyiDXYJ7UiwXYzJMjTNNQiG5NmwZl9ylo_foc097-HOkCBRF8aE47jsiokzliTD1FUPOFqMFDHGviTUi6jCgwcyk/s320/Robert-louis-stevenson.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Louis Stevenson in 1887</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
“Christmas At Sea” by Robert Louis Stevenson</h3>
The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;<br />
The decks were like a slide, where a seamen scarce could stand;<br />
The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off the sea;<br />
And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.<br />
<br />
They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;<br />
But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.<br />
We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,<br />
And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.<br />
<br />
All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;<br />
All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;<br />
All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,<br />
For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.<br />
<br />
We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared;<br />
But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:<br />
So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,<br />
And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.<br />
<br />
The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;<br />
The good red fires were burning bright in every 'long-shore home;<br />
The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;<br />
And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.<br />
<br />
The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;<br />
For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)<br />
This day of our adversity was blessed Christmas morn,<br />
And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born.<br />
<br />
O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,<br />
My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;<br />
And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,<br />
Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves.<br />
<br />
And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,<br />
Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;<br />
And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,<br />
To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day.<br />
<br />
They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.<br />
"All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call.<br />
"By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first mate Jackson, cried.<br />
..."It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied.<br />
<br />
She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,<br />
And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood.<br />
As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,<br />
We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.<br />
<br />
And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,<br />
As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;<br />
But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,<br />
Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-41540259799113855442018-11-28T17:21:00.000-07:002018-12-03T19:36:35.841-07:00"In School-days" by John Greenleaf Whittier<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=16335390&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Born in rural Massachusetts in 1807, John Greenleaf Whittier began to write poetry at a young age with his first poem being published in the summer of 1826. Shortly thereafter, he began working as an editor of various periodicals. The poem "In School-days" was written in 1869 and Whittier may have drawn a bit on his own experience as a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse. The poem was praised by the public as well as by other poets with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow commenting, "There is something more in education than is set down in the school-books. Whittier has touched this point very poetically in that little lyric of his." Oliver Wendell Holmes said of the poem in a letter to Whittier, "...I had no sooner read them [the lines] that I fell into such ecstasy that I could hardly find words too high-colored to speak of them to my little household. I hardly think I dared read them aloud. My eyes fill with tears just looking at them in my scrapbook, now, while I am writing."<br />
<br />
<b><a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/16335390/in_school_days_by_john_greenleaf_whittier.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a></b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrKHSjXGRGm_o6ZOWV4TyzHert-0x4EGWK9OArxi9vv3U0ck6jJqnaEPjldBEGarAdZL_EWzOM0bdwm8oH2oGd5HO6pqIEfmYOLWaDMlUUsj8HlbHf_N_o3rQ8iiIfcpU9CWvMZgIWRQ/s1600/in-school-days_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrKHSjXGRGm_o6ZOWV4TyzHert-0x4EGWK9OArxi9vv3U0ck6jJqnaEPjldBEGarAdZL_EWzOM0bdwm8oH2oGd5HO6pqIEfmYOLWaDMlUUsj8HlbHf_N_o3rQ8iiIfcpU9CWvMZgIWRQ/s400/in-school-days_1500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jeffreykholbrook.com/" target="_blank">Jeffrey K. Holbrook</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/PRyanPaulsen-6115124/?tab=latest" target="_blank">P. Ryan Paulsen</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Greenleaf_Whittier" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for John Greenleaf Whittier</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/john-greenleaf-whittier" target="_blank">Whittier's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://laurenmbollinger.weebly.com/blog/in-school-days-by-john-greenleaf-whittier" target="_blank">Analysis of "In School-days" by Lauren Bollinger</a><br />
<br />
<b>NOTE:</b> There is an alternate version of the first stanza in some early publications of this poem. We have chosen to use the later version of the text for our program as it was the text included in several authorized editions of Whittier's writings. You can see the alternate text at the bottom of this post.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPh0c1f9vzMWSSsshrLv55RKhNGoZTuDSxs_t51YiP5oUBt6Uu4soZFflUtuVW5faDYpSmNdvWR2ul3xmZMwVjGlKbDirT4wyz3EvvJouKsradGiUpqjFoWXThEKi7HMnTL8Ep0HigpvQ/s1600/john-greenleaf-whittier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="322" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPh0c1f9vzMWSSsshrLv55RKhNGoZTuDSxs_t51YiP5oUBt6Uu4soZFflUtuVW5faDYpSmNdvWR2ul3xmZMwVjGlKbDirT4wyz3EvvJouKsradGiUpqjFoWXThEKi7HMnTL8Ep0HigpvQ/s320/john-greenleaf-whittier.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Greenleaf Whittier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<br /><br />"In School-days" by John Greenleaf Whittier</h3>
Still sits the school-house by the road,<br />
A ragged beggar sleeping;<br />
Around it still the sumachs grow,<br />
And blackberry-vines are creeping.<br />
<br />
Within, the master’s desk is seen,<br />
Deep scarred by raps official;<br />
The warping floor, the battered seats,<br />
The jack-knife’s carved initial;<br />
<br />
The charcoal frescos on its wall;<br />
Its door’s worn sill, betraying<br />
The feet that, creeping slow to school,<br />
Went storming out to playing!<br />
<br />
Long years ago a winter sun<br />
Shone over it at setting;<br />
Lit up its western window-panes,<br />
And low eaves’ icy fretting.<br />
<br />
It touched the tangled golden curls,<br />
And brown eyes full of grieving,<br />
Of one who still her steps delayed<br />
When all the school were leaving.<br />
<br />
For near her stood the little boy<br />
Her childish favor singled:<br />
His cap pulled low upon a face<br />
Where pride and shame were mingled.<br />
<br />
Pushing with restless feet the snow<br />
To right and left, he lingered;—<br />
As restlessly her tiny hands<br />
The blue-checked apron fingered.<br />
<br />
He saw her lift her eyes; he felt<br />
The soft hand’s light caressing,<br />
And heard the tremble of her voice,<br />
As if a fault confessing.<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry that I spelt the word:<br />
I hate to go above you,<br />
Because,”—the brown eyes lower fell,—<br />
“Because, you see, I love you!”<br />
<br />
Still memory to a gray-haired man<br />
That sweet child-face is showing.<br />
Dear girl! the grasses on her grave<br />
Have forty years been growing!<br />
<br />
He lives to learn, in life’s hard school,<br />
How few who pass above him<br />
Lament their triumph and his loss,<br />
Like her,—because they love him.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Illustration which accompanied the poem in one of its publications.</h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvYguBTMcLDrT_HNW4TOxbHceb1mPSu6LtuTqbpKUeC4XFqhPuwS7i0UWS59cfyDaLDsFPGA0cbm99XsVbRC6XT0w5om1Cf0OxwQsAwM4eivmgEr58b1xxwkDo-uE3Wo8XtxiIGT8sXs/s1600/InSchoolDays-Illustration.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="351" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvYguBTMcLDrT_HNW4TOxbHceb1mPSu6LtuTqbpKUeC4XFqhPuwS7i0UWS59cfyDaLDsFPGA0cbm99XsVbRC6XT0w5om1Cf0OxwQsAwM4eivmgEr58b1xxwkDo-uE3Wo8XtxiIGT8sXs/s640/InSchoolDays-Illustration.JPG" width="395" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h4>
Alternate Text of Stanza One</h4>
Still sits the school-house by the road,<br />
A ragged beggar sunning;<br />
Around it still the sumachs grow,<br />
And blackberry-vines are running.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-21598405839141725412018-04-19T20:38:00.001-07:002019-04-13T13:20:17.106-07:00"O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=14583496&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Probably the most well-known poem by Walt Whitman, "O Captain! My Captain!" is a moving metaphor for President Abraham Lincoln's leadership of the country during the Civil War and his assassination which shocked the nation. This poem is actually only one of a handful that Whitman wrote in honor of Lincoln, whom he greatly admired. "O Captain" was written in 1865 shortly after the death of the President and was published later the same year in a small booklet containing a collection of 18 of Whitman's poems.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/14583496/o_captain_my_captain_by_walt_whitman.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtwuiRj01YmGm5eYJCarLdQDM3HRNcl6Q1FkDP60TJHj0u9LBdDCwHDaLyWqaslU8ekVMZ_4pFphS-yd9eMfNmUHixChfidVl6x-he6S2C-L19At2yz3eqo4DrluHS8zWNKeZYBc1Uh0/s1600/o-captain_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtwuiRj01YmGm5eYJCarLdQDM3HRNcl6Q1FkDP60TJHj0u9LBdDCwHDaLyWqaslU8ekVMZ_4pFphS-yd9eMfNmUHixChfidVl6x-he6S2C-L19At2yz3eqo4DrluHS8zWNKeZYBc1Uh0/s400/o-captain_1500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://thebestaudiobooks.com/" target="_blank">B.J. Harrison</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://connersavocacomposer.com/" target="_blank">Conner Savoca</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Some sound effects courtesy of <a href="http://www.freesfx.co.uk/" target="_blank">http://www.freesfx.co.uk</a>.)</span><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/jplenio-7645255/?tab=latest" target="_blank">Johannes Plenio</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_Captain!_My_Captain!" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "O Captain! My Captain!"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walt_Whitman" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Walt Whitman</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/walt-whitman" target="_blank">Whitman's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://poemanalysis.com/o-captain-captain-walt-whitman-poem-analysis/" target="_blank">Analysis of "O Captain! My Captain!" from PoemAnalysis.com</a><br />
<a href="https://whitmanarchive.org/biography/walt_whitman/index.html" target="_blank">Extended biography of Walt Whitman</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwkIMAwf6Sioi09X2ARguEfeUoGhXXXZbKDtdd1jlgQCtg9APcISq3su6fchHTizh1Anm0zoRXnngoQxMDauYmoVTnCTfP84ceQtZl6ba2ED8RETcJuYlR-yJdXOlwglQAeYJjzmsv_A/s1600/256px-Walt_Whitman_1872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="256" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwkIMAwf6Sioi09X2ARguEfeUoGhXXXZbKDtdd1jlgQCtg9APcISq3su6fchHTizh1Anm0zoRXnngoQxMDauYmoVTnCTfP84ceQtZl6ba2ED8RETcJuYlR-yJdXOlwglQAeYJjzmsv_A/s320/256px-Walt_Whitman_1872.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walt Whitman, 1872<br />
By Photographer: G. Frank E. Pearsall (1860-1899) (NYPL Digital Gallery) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman</h3>
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,<br />
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,<br />
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,<br />
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;<br />
But O heart! heart! heart!<br />
O the bleeding drops of red,<br />
Where on the deck my Captain lies,<br />
Fallen cold and dead.<br />
<br />
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;<br />
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,<br />
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,<br />
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;<br />
Here Captain! dear father!<br />
This arm beneath your head!<br />
It is some dream that on the deck,<br />
You’ve fallen cold and dead.<br />
<br />
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,<br />
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,<br />
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,<br />
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;<br />
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!<br />
But I with mournful tread,<br />
Walk the deck my Captain lies,<br />
Fallen cold and dead.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Whitman's notes for a revision of "O Captain! My Captain!"</h4>
<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ocaptain.jpg#/media/File:Ocaptain.jpg"><img alt="Ocaptain.jpg" height="640" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/14/Ocaptain.jpg" width="422" /></a><br />
Public Domain, <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5561068" target="_blank">Link</a></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-28492142296791287192018-03-28T19:22:00.003-07:002018-03-28T19:22:56.878-07:00"The Crucifixion and Resurrection. An Ode." by Mary Leapor<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=14410466&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Mary Leapor was a young poet born into Britain's working class. She died at the young age of 24 and therefore her body of work is not very large, but it contains some lengthy pieces which are quite respected and have received much acclaim to this day. Published posthumously in 1748, "The Crucifixion and Resurrection. An Ode." is a beautiful and vivid depiction of Christ's death, burial, and resurrection. Leapor recounts this event in her signature style and the poem's first three stanzas seem to focus on the effect Jesus' death had on the natural world and then in the second half she shifts to show what His resurrection means to humanity.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/14410466/the_crucifixion_and_resurrection_an_ode_by_mary_leapor.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrnieLlTYb-pE9NarPTpOpEh-jzMwhp7lOjX66K3XXzamX3l6YSVJ1vB62yhn0NGVKjRSWHRSv-WmGVVWolo-dwXwy_atq5UPTrv-x-gMtSLIV9lYoYC922LTyuaI7N87stW_AJXWthk/s1600/crucifixion-and-resurrection_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrnieLlTYb-pE9NarPTpOpEh-jzMwhp7lOjX66K3XXzamX3l6YSVJ1vB62yhn0NGVKjRSWHRSv-WmGVVWolo-dwXwy_atq5UPTrv-x-gMtSLIV9lYoYC922LTyuaI7N87stW_AJXWthk/s400/crucifixion-and-resurrection_1500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://laurasvoice.com/" target="_blank">Laura Richcreek</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/geralt-9301/?tab=about" target="_blank">Gerd Altmann</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Leapor" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Mary Leapor</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/mary-leapor" target="_blank">Mary Leapor's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/works/o5125-w0150.shtml#analysis" target="_blank">Poem Analysis from Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive</a><br />
<br />
<i>NOTE: We could not locate a royalty-free image of Mary Leapor to include in this post.</i><br />
<br />
<h3>
The Crucifixion and Resurrection. An Ode. by Mary Leapor</h3>
I.<br />
What means the reeling Earth? O why<br />
These Wonders in the dreadful Sky?<br />
The frighted Sun withdraws its Beams,<br />
Deep Groans are heard and doleful Screams.<br />
O say, what this Convulsion means:<br />
Afflicted Nature with a Shriek replies,<br />
A God expires, a mighty Saviour dies.<br />
<br />
II.<br />
The conscious Stars their Rays deny.<br />
The Moon receives a crimson Dye.<br />
The Temple conscious of its Fall,<br />
Now shakes its emblematick Wall.<br />
The Ocean stagnates, and the Mountains bow,<br />
And Angels weep that never wept till now.<br />
<br />
III.<br />
Still tremble, Earth, and still, O Sky,<br />
Thy ever-chearing Lamps deny:<br />
Amaz'd still let the Ocean stand,<br />
But what remains for guilty Man?<br />
What Groans? what Sorrows are for him decreed?<br />
For Man whose Crimes have made Perfection bleed?<br />
<br />
IV.<br />
But see, O see, the Sun returns!<br />
No more afflicted Nature mourns!<br />
The Stars their vacant Orbs regain!<br />
And the Moon sheds a silver Beam!<br />
While heav'nly Voices warble in the Skies,<br />
"Behold your Saviour from his Tomb arise!"<br />
<br />
V.<br />
While Saints attend the blessed Morn,<br />
He rose: — The God in human Form,<br />
A Form not made of vulgar Clay:<br />
Which, tho' it slept, cou'd not decay!<br />
Hail, Mortals; Hail (transported Seraphs cry)<br />
Redeem'd, and favour'd by the God most high.<br />
<br />
VI.<br />
In Heav'n let Joys eternal flow,<br />
And Mercy in the Worlds below;<br />
The Penitent shall Peace obtain,<br />
And not a Tear shall fall in vain.<br />
Then join, ye Worlds, in one glad Chorus sing,<br />
Praise to Messiah, and th' Almighty King.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<h4>
A high-resolution scan of Leapor's <i>Poems Upon Several Occasions: Volume II</i></h4>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="384" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="https://archive.org/embed/poemsuponseveral02leapiala" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="560"></iframe>J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-25826628291184223652018-02-20T21:55:00.005-07:002018-02-20T21:55:56.579-07:00“Eldorado” by Edgar Allan Poe<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=14103148&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
The poem "Eldorado" was first published in 1849 in the Boston-based periodical, <i>The Flag of Our Union</i>, a publication which also printed works from Louisa May Alcott. Incidentally, this poem was published just a little over five months before Edgar Allan Poe would meet his untimely–and still unexplained–death. Poe is, of course, known for his melancholy and dark writings and although there are some gray undertones in "Eldorado", they are far less overt than those in many of his other pieces. The text of the poem has been set to music in its entirety as well as adapted into song by many musical acts over the years.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/14103148/eldorado_by_edgar_allan_poe.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebZcVHtd0h3BxglMScETgoNSbHYvlkZCKH0zJlzLjHf2_hnUmRQ_hxL1JTgO1XIXBnkdiBGEhM8_9hp9D-Q_AS_8joSA_5K5rX2nhyphenhyphenygXG7zWjIPrtGkl1uYxu1gAhEtr_n00F0BrRLs/s1600/eldorado1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebZcVHtd0h3BxglMScETgoNSbHYvlkZCKH0zJlzLjHf2_hnUmRQ_hxL1JTgO1XIXBnkdiBGEhM8_9hp9D-Q_AS_8joSA_5K5rX2nhyphenhyphenygXG7zWjIPrtGkl1uYxu1gAhEtr_n00F0BrRLs/s400/eldorado1500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://connersavocacomposer.com/" target="_blank">Conner Savoca</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a> with assistance from <a href="https://soundcloud.com/royiv" target="_blank">Roy Allison</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/NeuPaddy-3372715/" target="_blank">Patrick Neufelder</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eldorado_(poem)" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "Eldorado"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Allan_Poe" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Edgar Allan Poe</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/edgar-allan-poe" target="_blank">Poe's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.gradesaver.com/poes-poetry/study-guide/summary-eldorado" target="_blank">Analysis of "Eldorado" from gradesaver.com</a><br />
<a href="https://www.shadowofiris.com/eldorado-edgar-allan-poe-poem-analysis/" target="_blank">Analysis of "Eldorado" from shadowofiris.com</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznXj0nriQFDggm4WyNhEpRzdEkJ30v5qbIzu0767tlN931cMa4dj5T8aETw7zSsBzMiccsKjAARoEQ6ctil1XMv1n1uxn8UFQpCRrSAxqB_Ha5WnlRrTlSLt-r_DBG-Nykw2_F25k1PI/s1600/643px-Edgar_Allan_Poe_daguerreotype_crop.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="643" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznXj0nriQFDggm4WyNhEpRzdEkJ30v5qbIzu0767tlN931cMa4dj5T8aETw7zSsBzMiccsKjAARoEQ6ctil1XMv1n1uxn8UFQpCRrSAxqB_Ha5WnlRrTlSLt-r_DBG-Nykw2_F25k1PI/s320/643px-Edgar_Allan_Poe_daguerreotype_crop.png" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1849 Daguerreotype of Edgar Allan Poe<br />
Source: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Edgar_Allan_Poe_daguerreotype_crop.png#/media/File:Edgar_Allan_Poe_daguerreotype_crop.png" target="_blank">Wikimedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
“Eldorado” by Edgar Allan Poe</h3>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Gaily bedight, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
A gallant knight, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
In sunshine and in shadow, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Had journeyed long, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Singing a song, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
In search of Eldorado. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
But he grew old— <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
This knight so bold— <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
And o’er his heart a shadow— <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Fell as he found <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
No spot of ground <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
That looked like Eldorado. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
And, as his strength <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Failed him at length, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
He met a pilgrim shadow— <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
“Shadow,” said he, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
“Where can it be— <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
This land of Eldorado?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
“Over the Mountains <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Of the Moon, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Down the Valley of the Shadow, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Ride, boldly ride,” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
The shade replied,—</div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
“If you seek for Eldorado!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Robinson(WH)-Poe-%27Eldorado%27.jpg#/media/File:Robinson(WH)-Poe-%27Eldorado%27.jpg"><img alt="Robinson(WH)-Poe-'Eldorado'.jpg" height="480" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/67/Robinson%28WH%29-Poe-%27Eldorado%27.jpg" width="323" /></a><br />
By <a class="extiw" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/en:W._Heath_Robinson" target="_blank" title="w:en:W. Heath Robinson">William Heath Robinson</a> - books, Public Domain, <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31114549" target="_blank">Link</a><br />
<br />J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-9971017561450689622017-11-22T20:36:00.005-07:002017-11-22T22:43:24.550-07:00"Autumn Fires" by Robert Louis Stevenson<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=13399065&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
"Autumn Fires" was first published in 1885 in a volume titled <i>Penny Whistles </i>which contained over 60 poems, including <a href="http://verses.porchlightfamilymedia.com/2016/07/my-shadow-by-robert-louis-stevenson.html" target="_blank">"My Shadow"</a>, "The Lamplighter", and "The Land of Story-books". The collection was later re-titled <i>A Child’s Garden of Verses</i> and has been reprinted many times. Robert Louis Stevenson is, of course, well-known for his short stories and novels, such as the pirate adventure story, <i>Treasure Island</i>, which was published two years prior to the aforementioned poetry collection.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/13399065/autumn_fires_by_robert_louis_stevenson.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2rDnQDWLQTnI4CCR7Cy5e9hlVlQgTuxwZ5jfOHkma3J7JQ7HljaxhLkv0oV3djj4bJzzZgTrtQrG4UBovv5lk-Le8p8wKCTGwLZyfuOXwfxD1HAwfFTRHFKkOUsMD42iTmX_pqEAWiE/s1600/autumn-fires2_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2rDnQDWLQTnI4CCR7Cy5e9hlVlQgTuxwZ5jfOHkma3J7JQ7HljaxhLkv0oV3djj4bJzzZgTrtQrG4UBovv5lk-Le8p8wKCTGwLZyfuOXwfxD1HAwfFTRHFKkOUsMD42iTmX_pqEAWiE/s400/autumn-fires2_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Todd Green</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Some sounds from <a href="http://freesfx.co.uk/" target="_blank">freeSFX.co.uk</a> and are used in accordance with their EULA.)</span></i><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://unsplash.com/@tmbrg" target="_blank">Timothy Meinberg</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Louis_Stevenson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Robert Louis Stevenson</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/robert-louis-stevenson" target="_blank">Stevenson's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://pluckthatpoem.wordpress.com/2014/09/22/autumn-fires-by-robert-louis-stevenson/" target="_blank">Short Commentary on "Autumn Fires" by the Blog, Pluck That Poem</a><br />
<a href="https://blog.oxforddictionaries.com/2011/10/04/the-poetry-of-autumn/" target="_blank">Blog Post by Christine A. Lindberg About Autumn Poetry</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHp1IayVVcy6H66HD_Og3FT7lVItb67JnqNHvG-zOmPn1h55qhZtitm0ZotOndihD3WhRrn-TEjjLb0vjzfKFUSRYaekkB3oJOZcRUG-Yqjen4Wg4cCk_vnWv4JY3_psRPTFFp3IyXNtM/s1600/Robert+Louis+Stevenson1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="435" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHp1IayVVcy6H66HD_Og3FT7lVItb67JnqNHvG-zOmPn1h55qhZtitm0ZotOndihD3WhRrn-TEjjLb0vjzfKFUSRYaekkB3oJOZcRUG-Yqjen4Wg4cCk_vnWv4JY3_psRPTFFp3IyXNtM/s320/Robert+Louis+Stevenson1.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Louis Stevenson, December 1870<br />
Image Credit: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rsl1.jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"Autumn Fires" by Robert Louis Stevenson</h3>
In the other gardens<br />
And all up the vale,<br />
From the autumn bonfires<br />
See the smoke trail!<br />
<br />
Pleasant summer over<br />
And all the summer flowers,<br />
The red fire blazes,<br />
The grey smoke towers.<br />
<br />
Sing a song of seasons!<br />
Something bright in all!<br />
Flowers in the summer,<br />
Fires in the fall!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i>A high-quality scan of the page</i></b> containing this poem from a volume of <i>A Child's Garden Of Verses</i> courtesy of The Internet Archive. <a href="https://archive.org/stream/childsgardenofve01stevuoft#page/n0/mode/2up" target="_blank">You can download a copy or view the book in a browser here</a>.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-WUqZ0SZ3gysueQYSwFlqK9I9fGRIsqnvEvlVTTEH2i5cIEPbDzZDcEs3zin0WaydvoRNwcrGotPb9PmPx3gVcUxnUgyDppkstc-mFjuVJaNPcQ1EjLEQaWvw2XBDRkbQ1_LNBzrtDs/s1600/Autumn-Fires_Page-Scan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-WUqZ0SZ3gysueQYSwFlqK9I9fGRIsqnvEvlVTTEH2i5cIEPbDzZDcEs3zin0WaydvoRNwcrGotPb9PmPx3gVcUxnUgyDppkstc-mFjuVJaNPcQ1EjLEQaWvw2XBDRkbQ1_LNBzrtDs/s400/Autumn-Fires_Page-Scan.JPG" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click the image to enlarge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-20339791764442490702017-10-15T15:08:00.006-07:002017-10-15T15:08:40.459-07:00“Afternoon” by Emma Lazarus<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/347058174&color=%230085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
While she wrote dozens of poems, Emma Lazarus is most known for <a href="http://verses.porchlightfamilymedia.com/2017/08/the-new-colossus-by-emma-lazarus.html" target="_blank">"The New Colossus"</a> and information about much of her other work is scarce. Indeed, information regarding "Afternoon" is almost nonexistent online. This beautiful, narrative piece is filled with vivid visuals that draw the reader into the scene. It takes very little effort to feel as though one is walking alongside the unnamed "her" in the poem. Whether the woman Lazarus refers to is herself or if it is a more general usage of the pronoun we may never know. Regardless this is a wonderful poem which conveys an emotion that most of us can relate to in some way.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/qkq6f7k6xzcnb6n/Afternoon_by_Emma_Lazarus.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPPm3mkxTUFuOkiwbuqle_Jhmb1Tkl3-kEs-0u292ve9YliANi2BtyAPsepWnxxJm9hNKKQM8h7ToIdI3nXmfexbS4G9Vv7HEkseOc82xFCEf0p1lhBS2mMP4YtvKzj4OMhUJrLuzxKM/s1600/afternoon_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPPm3mkxTUFuOkiwbuqle_Jhmb1Tkl3-kEs-0u292ve9YliANi2BtyAPsepWnxxJm9hNKKQM8h7ToIdI3nXmfexbS4G9Vv7HEkseOc82xFCEf0p1lhBS2mMP4YtvKzj4OMhUJrLuzxKM/s400/afternoon_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://laurasvoice.com/" target="_blank">Laura Richcreek</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006308836129" target="_blank">Andrew Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://www.danielmaissan.nl/about/" target="_blank">Daniel Maissan</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Lazarus" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Emma Lazarus</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emma-lazarus" target="_blank">Emma Lazarus's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://keytopoetry.com/emma-lazarus/analyses/afternoon-9/" target="_blank">Basic Analysis of "Afternoon" from KeyToPoetry.com</a><br />
<a href="https://quod.lib.umich.edu/a/amverse/BAL7876.0001.001/1:4?rgn=div1;view=fulltext" target="_blank">Commentary on Lazarus' work from the American Verse Project</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAyz24bSUxJYxYkgbdQLRjCulVpivk_6plwc8sCUqBx4YpPQxpbUUgqaBnTRpguLrRLPsqDonbggZrD2phC06kODkL68veyvRckpnYEHfHKD9vWEVeHOPmptDpgqZogrQrjUJRPl72Hs/s1600/Emma_Lazarus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAyz24bSUxJYxYkgbdQLRjCulVpivk_6plwc8sCUqBx4YpPQxpbUUgqaBnTRpguLrRLPsqDonbggZrD2phC06kODkL68veyvRckpnYEHfHKD9vWEVeHOPmptDpgqZogrQrjUJRPl72Hs/s320/Emma_Lazarus.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emma Lazarus circa December 1871<br />
Image Credit: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Emma_Lazarus.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
“Afternoon” by Emma Lazarus</h3>
Small, shapeless drifts of cloud<br />
Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,<br />
With blue half-tints and rolling summits bright,<br />
By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud<br />
All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh<br />
With its own warmth and light.<br />
<br />
O'erblown by Southland airs,<br />
The summer landscape basks in utter peace:<br />
In lazy streams the lazy clouds are seen;<br />
Low hills, broad meadows, and large, clear-cut squares<br />
Of ripening corn-fields, rippled by the breeze,<br />
With shifting shade and sheen.<br />
<br />
Hark! and you may not hear<br />
A sound less soothing than the rustle cool<br />
Of swaying leaves, the steady wiry drone<br />
Of unseen crickets, sudden chirpings clear<br />
Of happy birds, the tinkle of the pool,<br />
Chafed by a single stone.<br />
<br />
What vague, delicious dreams,<br />
Born of this golden hour of afternoon,<br />
And air balm-freighted, fill the soul with bliss,<br />
Transpierced like yonder clouds with lustrous gleams,<br />
Fantastic, brief as they, and, like them, spun<br />
Of gilded nothingness!<br />
<br />
All things are well with her.<br />
'T is good to be alive, to see the light<br />
That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh<br />
With perfect pleasure) the mild breezes stir<br />
Among the garden roses, red and white,<br />
With whiffs of fragrancy.<br />
<br />
There is no troublous thought,<br />
No painful memory, no grave regret,<br />
To mar the sweet suggestions of the hour:<br />
The soul, at peace, reflects the peace without,<br />
Forgetting grief as sunset skies forget<br />
The morning's transient shower.<br />
<div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Verses Viewpoint</h3>
<b>The team shares their thoughts on this poem</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"What I appreciated most about this poem is the inventiveness of the author's vocabulary and turns of phrase--"half-tints," "anigh," "balm-freighted," "transpierced," "fragrancy," and "troublous." At least, I'm assuming these words are invented by Ms. Lazarus--I haven't actually looked them up, but they are lovely! And my two favorite phrases must be, "chafed by a single stone," and "gilded nothingness." I feel like I can see the world anew (see? she's inspiring me!) or perhaps, newly? after reading her poem." <b>- Laura Richcreek, narrator</b></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"To me, this poem has a feeling of reflection and contemplation, but not in a wistful way. I think she's simply observing the things around her and just stopping to appreciate the littlest things and having gratitude for the season of life she's currently in." <b>- J.D. Sutter, director</b></blockquote>
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-66640147529426441762017-08-31T18:18:00.000-07:002017-08-31T18:18:13.471-07:00"The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/340390797&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
American born, Jewish poet, Emma Lazarus wrote this now famous sonnet in 1883 for the purpose of aiding the Bartholdi Pedestal Fund for the Statue of Liberty as Lazarus notes on the original manuscript of the poem (pictured below). Unfortunately, she never saw the poem enshrined on Liberty Island as the plaque bearing the poem's text was not affixed to the pedestal wall until 1903; over a decade and a half after Lazarus' death in 1887. The title of the poem is a reference to the Colossus of Rhodes, a statue of the Greek sun-god, which was one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/tbtabmzxm6eg61f/The_New_Colossus_by_Emma_Lazarus.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrT6O9KUenKcrNpRDQAkQoEIUrcwBA8EdhnBNbnxQQmZkeSmpUiTJ1ODNDeHXked6JunV8tajJ_zGUtovPm1wkkO0ybHUUyfSMNFGXHxmCcfFFDtLTnVLyMSo59Hwdoe7odRooy06QA6A/s1600/new-colossus_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrT6O9KUenKcrNpRDQAkQoEIUrcwBA8EdhnBNbnxQQmZkeSmpUiTJ1ODNDeHXked6JunV8tajJ_zGUtovPm1wkkO0ybHUUyfSMNFGXHxmCcfFFDtLTnVLyMSo59Hwdoe7odRooy06QA6A/s400/new-colossus_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://bookwormbanquet.com/" target="_blank">Nicole Rodrigues</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://connersavocacomposer.com/" target="_blank">Conner Savoca</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://creationadventurefamily.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Riffenburgh</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://morguefile.com/creative/kconnors" target="_blank">Kevin Connors</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Colossus" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "The New Colossus"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Lazarus" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Emma Lazarus</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emma-lazarus" target="_blank">Emma Lazarus's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://poemanalysis.com/the-new-colossus-by-emma-lazarus-poem-analysis/" target="_blank">Summary, Analysis, & Historical Context of "The New Colossus"</a><br />
<a href="https://interestingliterature.com/2016/08/30/a-short-analysis-of-emma-lazarus-the-new-colossus/" target="_blank">Shorter Analysis from InterestingLiterature.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.libertystatepark.com/emma.htm" target="_blank">A Brief History of Liberty State Park</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAyz24bSUxJYxYkgbdQLRjCulVpivk_6plwc8sCUqBx4YpPQxpbUUgqaBnTRpguLrRLPsqDonbggZrD2phC06kODkL68veyvRckpnYEHfHKD9vWEVeHOPmptDpgqZogrQrjUJRPl72Hs/s1600/Emma_Lazarus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAyz24bSUxJYxYkgbdQLRjCulVpivk_6plwc8sCUqBx4YpPQxpbUUgqaBnTRpguLrRLPsqDonbggZrD2phC06kODkL68veyvRckpnYEHfHKD9vWEVeHOPmptDpgqZogrQrjUJRPl72Hs/s320/Emma_Lazarus.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emma Lazarus circa December 1871<br style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.32px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.32px;">Image Credit: </span><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Emma_Lazarus.jpg" style="background-color: white; color: #5f00e4; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.32px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus</h3>
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,<br />
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;<br />
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand<br />
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame<br />
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name<br />
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand<br />
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command<br />
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.<br />
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she<br />
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,<br />
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,<br />
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.<br />
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,<br />
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:New_Colossus_manuscript_Lazarus.jpg#/media/File:New_Colossus_manuscript_Lazarus.jpg"><img alt="New Colossus manuscript Lazarus.jpg" height="480" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/58/New_Colossus_manuscript_Lazarus.jpg" width="390" /></a><br />
By Emma Lazarus (1883 manuscript) - <a class="external free" href="http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/haventohome/images/hh0041s.jpg" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/haventohome/images/hh0041s.jpg</a> Library of Congress, Public Domain, <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17155055" target="_blank">Link</a></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-3003649136239975512017-07-26T18:15:00.001-07:002017-07-26T18:15:21.410-07:00“A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/335010279&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
This popular poem by American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, was first published in the literary magazine, <i>The Knickerbocker</i>, in 1838. The following year, this poem was collected with several other early Longfellow works and published in a volume titled <i>Voices of the Night</i>. Longfellow revisits the idea of likening poems to psalms as well as other themes from “A Psalm of Life" in subsequent works on several other occasions, including one entitled "The Reaper and the Flowers" which was originally subtitled "A Psalm of Death".<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/l526223uan87cjn/A_Psalm_of_Life_by_Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBvmSmQ8qin_lNV1sQVoxixDIQzQgLDmJzTEw8NB7frRmeOrC-RR3rhBcRwLsrWbZb2ELCPkuwjS5Y5cjKNu_OdgXGXRI1Kflay3PYMyRxNGN0UntR_o4Svgb2CLWEWOEueAeJrKMtk0/s1600/psalm-of-life_cover1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBvmSmQ8qin_lNV1sQVoxixDIQzQgLDmJzTEw8NB7frRmeOrC-RR3rhBcRwLsrWbZb2ELCPkuwjS5Y5cjKNu_OdgXGXRI1Kflay3PYMyRxNGN0UntR_o4Svgb2CLWEWOEueAeJrKMtk0/s400/psalm-of-life_cover1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Todd Green</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://connersavocacomposer.com/" target="_blank">Conner Savoca</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://unsplash.com/@alwig64" target="_blank">Alex Wigan</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Psalm_of_Life" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "A Psalm of Life"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Longfellow</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/henry-wadsworth-longfellow" target="_blank">Longfellow's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://englicist.com/poem-analysis/a-psalm-of-life-longfellow-summary" target="_blank">Detailed Line-by-Line Analysis of "A Psalm of Life" by Jayanta K. Maity</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2C0-1FOCsLCE7r6bPe2-CQBgpUDkHJ_ww67TVePoNy49_YFikA3bUsnhyphenhyphenUg8U18gTqY43EnboeOA0HKm_2g3k0BQR-FPzLC_wn2D8g7YGvIF_XSD4jd2TEuoAaihYrs9Wp3LH5LkPP4/s1600/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1421" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2C0-1FOCsLCE7r6bPe2-CQBgpUDkHJ_ww67TVePoNy49_YFikA3bUsnhyphenhyphenUg8U18gTqY43EnboeOA0HKm_2g3k0BQR-FPzLC_wn2D8g7YGvIF_XSD4jd2TEuoAaihYrs9Wp3LH5LkPP4/s320/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br />
Image credit: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AHenry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
“A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</h3>
What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.<br />
<br />
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,<br />
Life is but an empty dream!<br />
For the soul is dead that slumbers,<br />
And things are not what they seem.<br />
<br />
Life is real! Life is earnest!<br />
And the grave is not its goal;<br />
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,<br />
Was not spoken of the soul.<br />
<br />
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,<br />
Is our destined end or way;<br />
But to act, that each to-morrow<br />
Find us farther than to-day.<br />
<br />
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,<br />
And our hearts, though stout and brave,<br />
Still, like muffled drums, are beating<br />
Funeral marches to the grave.<br />
<br />
In the world’s broad field of battle,<br />
In the bivouac of Life,<br />
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!<br />
Be a hero in the strife!<br />
<br />
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!<br />
Let the dead Past bury its dead!<br />
Act,— act in the living Present!<br />
Heart within, and God o’erhead!<br />
<br />
Lives of great men all remind us<br />
We can make our lives sublime,<br />
And, departing, leave behind us<br />
Footprints on the sands of time;<br />
<br />
Footprints, that perhaps another,<br />
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,<br />
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,<br />
Seeing, shall take heart again.<br />
<br />
Let us, then, be up and doing,<br />
With a heart for any fate;<br />
Still achieving, still pursuing,<br />
Learn to labor and to wait.<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3>
Verses Viewpoint</h3>
<b>The team shares their thoughts on this poem</b><br />
<b><br /></b> Narrator, Todd Green, shares his thoughts on "A Psalm of Life".<br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/334701388%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-g7j1v&color=000000&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-23458035979257479662017-06-14T21:16:00.005-07:002017-06-14T21:16:43.651-07:00"The Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/328121395%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-ng4Eu&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Written and published in the winter of 1854, "The Charge of the Light Brigade" memorializes the story of the British soldiers who fought in the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War. The battle, in which the Russian forces had soundly defeated the British, had just taken place less than two months prior when Tennyson wrote this poem. One survivor of the defeated cavalry regiment, the 11th Hussars, Private Thomas Williams, remarked later in a letter to his parents, “I could see what would be the result of it, and so could all of us; but of course, as we had got the order, it was our duty to obey. I do not wish to boast too much; but I can safely say that there was not a man in the Light Brigade that day but what did his duty to his Queen and Country.”<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;">[1]</sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span>Tennyson later edited the poem and included the new version in a volume of works published in 1855. The revisions were not well received so he restored the text back to its previous iteration for subsequent printings. We have chosen to produce the original and more well-known version of this poem.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/ws46g0bum8x0678/The_Charge_of_the_Light_Brigade_by_Alfred%2C_Lord_Tennyson.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtCVU1ir7QUYw0DLWar2iGeVj0YwBZTpW6X80DjEMPUPtOBRXNJA8HbQubJ7i169j2FAVkNkXt6O7d0aYpkEjyyfVmle0ScrGtQ38qK0TpeLkSN8V4EcWiEH5iSey3rvzoaOwAuXBUQA/s1600/light-brigade_1400-artwork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtCVU1ir7QUYw0DLWar2iGeVj0YwBZTpW6X80DjEMPUPtOBRXNJA8HbQubJ7i169j2FAVkNkXt6O7d0aYpkEjyyfVmle0ScrGtQ38qK0TpeLkSN8V4EcWiEH5iSey3rvzoaOwAuXBUQA/s400/light-brigade_1400-artwork.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://thebestaudiobooks.com/" target="_blank">B.J. Harrison</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006308836129" target="_blank">Andrew Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://creationadventurefamily.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Riffenburgh</a><br />
<b>Artwork:</b> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Caton_Woodville,_Jr." target="_blank">Richard Caton Woodville, Jr.</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Charge_of_the_Light_Brigade_(poem)" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "The Charge of the Light Brigade"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred,_Lord_Tennyson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Tennyson</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/alfred-tennyson" target="_blank">Tennyson's Bio at The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Balaclava" target="_blank">Wikipedia entry for the Battle of Balaclava</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Maud,_and_other_poems/The_Charge_of_the_Light_Brigade" target="_blank">Alternative version of "The Charge of the Light Brigade" published in 1855</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15XgvFnE5j6zjq-clnOhndBhDjc_K88f74y_VilElyWy3YYIQ2n2Fj23u8Q9GJQeInS_ViUWoyPHpZActNM_vz9R1oX7rIje9TgqAmZ8M7JYp6KSfjVHRV6kO-msOruGONJWO5ChRviU/s1600/Alfred_Lord_Tennyson_1869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="438" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15XgvFnE5j6zjq-clnOhndBhDjc_K88f74y_VilElyWy3YYIQ2n2Fj23u8Q9GJQeInS_ViUWoyPHpZActNM_vz9R1oX7rIje9TgqAmZ8M7JYp6KSfjVHRV6kO-msOruGONJWO5ChRviU/s400/Alfred_Lord_Tennyson_1869.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carbon Print of Tennyson, 1869<br />
Credit: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Charge_of_the_Light_Brigade_(poem)#/media/File:Alfred_Lord_Tennyson_1869.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson</h3>
I<br />
Half a league, half a league,<br />
Half a league onward,<br />
All in the valley of Death<br />
Rode the six hundred.<br />
“Forward, the Light Brigade!<br />
Charge for the guns!” he said.<br />
Into the valley of Death<br />
Rode the six hundred.<br />
<br />
II<br />
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”<br />
Was there a man dismayed?<br />
Not though the soldier knew<br />
Someone had blundered.<br />
Theirs not to make reply,<br />
Theirs not to reason why,<br />
Theirs but to do and die.<br />
Into the valley of Death<br />
Rode the six hundred.<br />
<br />
III<br />
Cannon to right of them,<br />
Cannon to left of them,<br />
Cannon in front of them<br />
Volleyed and thundered;<br />
Stormed at with shot and shell,<br />
Boldly they rode and well,<br />
Into the jaws of Death,<br />
Into the mouth of hell<br />
Rode the six hundred.<br />
<br />
IV<br />
Flashed all their sabres bare,<br />
Flashed as they turned in air<br />
Sabring the gunners there,<br />
Charging an army, while<br />
All the world wondered.<br />
Plunged in the battery-smoke<br />
Right through the line they broke;<br />
Cossack and Russian<br />
Reeled from the sabre stroke<br />
Shattered and sundered.<br />
Then they rode back, but not<br />
Not the six hundred.<br />
<br />
V<br />
Cannon to right of them,<br />
Cannon to left of them,<br />
Cannon behind them<br />
Volleyed and thundered;<br />
Stormed at with shot and shell,<br />
While horse and hero fell.<br />
They that had fought so well<br />
Came through the jaws of Death,<br />
Back from the mouth of hell,<br />
All that was left of them,<br />
Left of six hundred.<br />
<br />
VI<br />
When can their glory fade?<br />
O the wild charge they made!<br />
All the world wondered.<br />
Honour the charge they made!<br />
Honour the Light Brigade,<br />
Noble six hundred!<br />
<br />
<br />
<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;">[1]</sup><sup class="reference" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"> </sup><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/10776275/New-accounts-emerge-of-Charge-of-the-Light-Brigade.html" target="_blank">http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/10776275/New-accounts-emerge-of-Charge-of-the-Light-Brigade.html</a></span><br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-63974629289725594032017-05-30T12:15:00.000-07:002017-05-30T12:15:48.751-07:00"The Long Hill" by Sara Teasdale<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/325136524%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-0IOB1&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
American lyric poet, Sara Teasdale, was born in 1884 in Missouri. She published her first poem in a newspaper in 1907 followed by a volume of her poetry later that year. In 1950, science fiction writer, Ray Bradbury published a short story which contained Teasdale's poem, "There Will Come Soft Rains" and Bradbury also used that as his story's title. Many of her poems have been put to music over the years, including "The Long Hill" which was recorded by the band Clifford Grooms in 2013.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/hr4u6762ydzk8ld/The_Long_Hill_by_Sara_Teasdale.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRwM_tNgUei9wHMK2wuOP89F5zKAR6spaPKm4XL89py9fhRGt5jRmRu-NHT_Dl3K-_9ex2XzdRcLUhvkrme5Zsdjy8vtXjkUg1Exhd-WSqR5hFKiHWKNKYaA9rmE9Hio_MR0bMbhKZYU/s1600/the-long-hill_artwork-1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRwM_tNgUei9wHMK2wuOP89F5zKAR6spaPKm4XL89py9fhRGt5jRmRu-NHT_Dl3K-_9ex2XzdRcLUhvkrme5Zsdjy8vtXjkUg1Exhd-WSqR5hFKiHWKNKYaA9rmE9Hio_MR0bMbhKZYU/s400/the-long-hill_artwork-1400.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="398" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://laurasvoice.com/" target="_blank">Laura Richcreek</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://www.connersavocacomposer.com/" target="_blank">Conner Savoca</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://unsplash.com/@cagatayorhan" target="_blank">Cagatay Orhan</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sara_Teasdale" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Sara Teasdale</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/sara-teasdale" target="_blank">Sara Teasdale's Bio at Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://apenglishlit.blogspot.com/2008/12/teasdale-rossetti.html" target="_blank">Comparison of "The Long Hill" and "Up-Hill" by Christina Rossetti</a><br />
<a href="https://books.google.com/books/content?id=NgUnAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA121&img=1&zoom=3&hl=en&sig=ACfU3U1VLG937WkkXlheaVZTLri-byFHWA&ci=42%2C289%2C840%2C1113&edge=0" target="_blank">Scanned image of an early printing of the poem courtesy of Google Books</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnnyLwhqLMtPAYmn6c18Hz8ATFxzXIyrj4LTZlULgUpk5QUpEuUZDKDKEFxRo5pNRN3jklG6l3cq-wsbAAbTA_9bAM4IHM35_kDbGBR7E0e5uTSwq-DPR6yfYv84tv6payMqBR21fgFw/s1600/Sara-Teasdale%252C-portrait-photograph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnnyLwhqLMtPAYmn6c18Hz8ATFxzXIyrj4LTZlULgUpk5QUpEuUZDKDKEFxRo5pNRN3jklG6l3cq-wsbAAbTA_9bAM4IHM35_kDbGBR7E0e5uTSwq-DPR6yfYv84tv6payMqBR21fgFw/s320/Sara-Teasdale%252C-portrait-photograph.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sara Teasdale, portrait taken July 11, 1919<br />
Photo credit: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Felsinger,-Sara-Teasdale,-portrait-photograph.jpg#" target="_blank">Wikimedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The Long Hill" by Sara Teasdale</h3>
I must have passed the crest a while ago<br />
And now I am going down —<br />
Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know,<br />
But the brambles were always catching the hem<br />
of my gown.<br />
<br />
All the morning I thought how proud I should be<br />
To stand there straight as a queen,<br />
Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world<br />
under me —<br />
But the air was dull, there was little I could<br />
have seen.<br />
<br />
It was nearly level along the beaten track<br />
And the brambles caught in my gown —<br />
But it's no use now to think of turning back,<br />
The rest of the way will be only going down.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Verses Viewpoint</h3>
<b>The team shares their thoughts on this poem</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I found myself looking back at the last 7-13 years and felt that longing, but also a certain relaxed (resigned?) sense of self as I head into the upcoming years. It wasn't a negative feeling, but more of an, 'Ah, so this is it! Okay. I'm alright with this!'" <b>- Laura Richcreek, narrator</b></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I think it has a feeling of bittersweetness. Sort of a bit of longing for days gone by, but at the same time realizing that the past is gone and one must look ahead. Then there's also a hint of apprehension about what is to come. I suppose it could also be interpreted as a look at aging and maturity too. I think it has so many layers to it despite how short it is. It really is quite a beautiful piece." <b>- J.D. Sutter, director</b></blockquote>
</div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-23596401212510455072017-05-14T18:54:00.009-07:002017-05-14T18:54:56.177-07:00"Crossing The Bar" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/322657302%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-88ia1&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Written in 1889, when Tennyson was about 80 years old, "Crossing The Bar" is one of his last pieces of poetry. The elegy embraces similar themes as many of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's other works as he once again uses references to the sea; this time to make his point about the ending of life on earth. Tennyson seemed to view the piece as a bookend of sorts to his work and requested that this poem be placed last in all future publications of collections of his poetry.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/sfg0az1axhf6f79/Crossing_The_Bar_by_Alfred_Lord_Tennyson.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFY7NVe0O6g8Q5H0Pz5jMvZBbEurPT-_K_FZwpSJwZcgszElOqDPS7rbUVU6vdM_m7Lr3csv84khCZKClR__8yIJzsqShYlJHQ2S4jdttIlMPh5Vhdjd0ABSQrAmaeaT0BcUSj3kScm3M/s1600/crossing-the-bar_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFY7NVe0O6g8Q5H0Pz5jMvZBbEurPT-_K_FZwpSJwZcgszElOqDPS7rbUVU6vdM_m7Lr3csv84khCZKClR__8yIJzsqShYlJHQ2S4jdttIlMPh5Vhdjd0ABSQrAmaeaT0BcUSj3kScm3M/s400/crossing-the-bar_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Todd Green</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://unsplash.com/@conradz" target="_blank">Conrad Ziebland</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crossing_the_Bar" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "Crossing the Bar"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred,_Lord_Tennyson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Alfred, Lord Tennyson</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/alfred-tennyson" target="_blank">Tennyson's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.gradesaver.com/tennysons-poems/study-guide/summary-crossing-the-bar" target="_blank">Summary and Analysis of "Crossing the Bar" from GradeSaver</a><br />
<a href="http://www.english.cam.ac.uk/cambridgeauthors/tennyson-practical-criticism-of-crossing-the-bar/" target="_blank">Summary and Analysis of "Crossing the Bar" via Cambridge University website</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2kriWz6MOmwNkuoOsQDfg9dN-2bDcBYLBU8H2AvjzC2fAm9orgiEx-xZBR3ZATZ5vfB_qdWo3MitSPTULWxOt6ap-ZhuO-EXutOvRiUMK6qWSzsV0U2W1Y6LsssjE4Cpxj6wXA7Jit0/s1600/644px-Alfred_Tennyson..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2kriWz6MOmwNkuoOsQDfg9dN-2bDcBYLBU8H2AvjzC2fAm9orgiEx-xZBR3ZATZ5vfB_qdWo3MitSPTULWxOt6ap-ZhuO-EXutOvRiUMK6qWSzsV0U2W1Y6LsssjE4Cpxj6wXA7Jit0/s320/644px-Alfred_Tennyson..jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alfred, Lord Tennyson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
"Crossing The Bar" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson</h3>
Sunset and evening star,<br />
And one clear call for me!<br />
And may there be no moaning of the bar,<br />
When I put out to sea,<br />
<br />
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,<br />
Too full for sound and foam,<br />
When that which drew from out the boundless deep<br />
Turns again home.<br />
<br />
Twilight and evening bell,<br />
And after that the dark!<br />
And may there be no sadness of farewell,<br />
When I embark;<br />
<br />
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place<br />
The flood may bear me far,<br />
I hope to see my Pilot face to face<br />
When I have crost the bar.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-89774756611473422502017-04-08T19:58:00.003-07:002018-12-03T19:41:03.709-07:00"The Village Blacksmith" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=11972898&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
First published in 1840, "The Village Blacksmith" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a wonderful example of a short, narrative poem. It not only tells the reader a story, but it is one which many can relate to since it is really a story of the "everyman". After its initial publication in a periodical, "The Village Blacksmith" was then included in a volume of Longfellow's works entitled <i>Ballads and Other Poems</i>, published in 1841, which included other now well-known poems such as, "The Wreck of the Hesperus" and "Excelsior".<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/11972898/the_village_blacksmith_by_henry_wadsworth_longfellow.mp3" target="_blank"><b>Click Here to Download this Program</b></a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD90SKpyF6A4UJ0Omi9gxhtb1AM-pKVOnsauK0blIi0TtIHOM-IX9Xfi_yIRqLbbaGeh9004uKg9DU4IbOWPwUtyzbe99iZZU4kyvqJg0_f-YnxtXnZGYduuMm0wuW-fiCBUHzVeu8Ngg/s1600/village-blacksmith_cover1400-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD90SKpyF6A4UJ0Omi9gxhtb1AM-pKVOnsauK0blIi0TtIHOM-IX9Xfi_yIRqLbbaGeh9004uKg9DU4IbOWPwUtyzbe99iZZU4kyvqJg0_f-YnxtXnZGYduuMm0wuW-fiCBUHzVeu8Ngg/s400/village-blacksmith_cover1400-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jeffreykholbrook.com/" target="_blank">Jeffrey K. Holbrook</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006308836129" target="_blank">Andrew Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/LubosHouska-198496/" target="_blank">Lubos Houska</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Special thanks to the <a href="http://primitivebaptistsermons.org/hymns.php" target="_blank">Primitive Baptist Sermon Library</a> for the "Amazing Grace" audio and to <a href="http://jeremysarber.com/" target="_blank">Jeremy Sarber</a> for helping us track it down.</i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Village_Blacksmith" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "The Village Blacksmith"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/henry-wadsworth-longfellow" target="_blank">Longfellow's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.hwlongfellow.org/" target="_blank">HWLongfellow.org - A site maintained by the Maine Historical Society</a><br />
<a href="https://www.enotes.com/topics/village-blacksmith/in-depth#in-depth-the-poem" target="_blank">Indepth Analysis of "The Village Blacksmith" from enotes</a><br />
<a href="http://www.artofmanliness.com/2012/09/13/lessons-learned-from-longfellows-blacksmith/" target="_blank">Lessons Learned From "The Village Blacksmith" - Blog post from The Art of Manliness</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw39wQ0AZjT5pg-SrW2PT-p9YEPoR2hiVHyai4XUMoEy26-g2eGWlXFcsPMy1k2hA9Ro6gOvDPA1MDHQT0G41EQdI_ouUBOxWVH-EeuVV1YWM7mQSHhOtFo4zX7WBUXFC0YnBmUApfyPI/s1600/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw39wQ0AZjT5pg-SrW2PT-p9YEPoR2hiVHyai4XUMoEy26-g2eGWlXFcsPMy1k2hA9Ro6gOvDPA1MDHQT0G41EQdI_ouUBOxWVH-EeuVV1YWM7mQSHhOtFo4zX7WBUXFC0YnBmUApfyPI/s320/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br />
Image credit: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AHenry_Wadsworth_Longfellow.jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<br />"The Village Blacksmith" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</h3>
Under a spreading chestnut tree<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
The village smithy stands;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
The smith, a mighty man is he,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
With large and sinewy hands;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And the muscles of his brawny arms<br />
Are strong as iron bands.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
His face is like the tan;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
His brow is wet with honest sweat,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
He earns whate'er he can,<br />
And looks the whole world in the face,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
For he owes not any man.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
Week in, week out, from morn till night,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
You can hear his bellows blow;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge<br />
With measured beat and slow,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
When the evening sun is low.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
And children coming home from school<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Look in at the open door;<br />
They love to see the flaming forge,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And hear the bellows roar,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And catch the burning sparks that fly<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
He goes on Sunday to the church,<br />
And sits among his boys;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
He hears the parson pray and preach,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
He hears his daughter's voice,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Singing in the village choir,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And it makes his heart rejoice.<br />
<br />
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Singing in Paradise!<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
He needs must think of her once more,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
How in the grave she lies;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes<br />
A tear out of his eyes.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Onward through life he goes;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Each morning sees some task begin,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Each evening sees it close;<br />
Something attempted, something done,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Has earned a night's repose.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
For the lesson thou hast taught!<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Thus at the flaming forge of life<br />
Our fortunes must be wrought;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Each burning deed and thought!<br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Longfellow_Village_Blacksmith_(manuscript_1).jpg#/media/File:Longfellow_Village_Blacksmith_(manuscript_1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Longfellow Village Blacksmith (manuscript 1).jpg" height="145" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/73/Longfellow_Village_Blacksmith_%28manuscript_1%29.jpg" width="119" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original Manuscript of the Poem<br />
Public Domain, <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10646" target="_blank">Link</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<i>This production is dedicated to Floyde Holbrook, 1934 - 2017.</i></div>
<div>
<i>"Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire, and that bringeth forth an instrument for his work..." Isaiah 54:16 KJV</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-38682298834489231732017-02-16T19:55:00.003-07:002017-02-16T19:55:18.691-07:00"Florence Nightingale" by Emma Lazarus<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/308146705&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Emma Lazarus was an American poet who was writing during the late 1800s. She is most known for her sonnet in honor of The Statue of Liberty, "The New Colossus". Her poem, "Florence Nightingale", was written on March 7, 1867 and was first published in 1871. There are conflicting opinions about the accuracy of this poem's portrayal of the woman known as "The Mother of Modern Nursing" and "The Lady with the Lamp", but regardless, it is a wonderful piece which honors Nightingale's contributions to the field of medicine.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/cr1lch2tzbasgtl/Florence_Nightingale_by_Emma_Lazarus.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcz8y_vJcUlWFtTxR6XLmgg5-y1ZK7-1PBvGY5P-HcEW_uMt2S7QV_yj3OEQ7t2fKWRy51XQPaueFxYBd9L9C9oqaKBSoc9oQlnevk2ZgeU3hYCFffwDyIB5Q1a4fWN3O4V7nIx8Inyg/s1600/Florence_Nightingale-artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcz8y_vJcUlWFtTxR6XLmgg5-y1ZK7-1PBvGY5P-HcEW_uMt2S7QV_yj3OEQ7t2fKWRy51XQPaueFxYBd9L9C9oqaKBSoc9oQlnevk2ZgeU3hYCFffwDyIB5Q1a4fWN3O4V7nIx8Inyg/s400/Florence_Nightingale-artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://bookwormbanquet.com/" target="_blank">Nicole Rodrigues</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006308836129" target="_blank">Andrew Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Image for Artwork:</b> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henrietta_Rae" target="_blank">Henrietta Rae</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Lazarus" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Emma Lazarus</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/emma-lazarus" target="_blank">Bio of Emma Lazarus on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florence_Nightingale" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Florence Nightingale</a><br />
<a href="http://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=amverse;idno=BAD4145.0001.001" target="_blank">Full Text of "Admetus and other poems" by Emma Lazarus courtesy of The American Verse Project</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlhTGDfQczWRb7znmm_Gl95HLO8M3UebfdpewkKBtnTZwVlbr6kflZn-CjD8e8sQtj3Mxei_cpr4GVlsJTzLUR1BYmwMCtKgwJ-s9A8STPEpreXjBPEIhJKwVkUTIQi8gOdkvkRpVWkY/s1600/Emma_Lazarus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlhTGDfQczWRb7znmm_Gl95HLO8M3UebfdpewkKBtnTZwVlbr6kflZn-CjD8e8sQtj3Mxei_cpr4GVlsJTzLUR1BYmwMCtKgwJ-s9A8STPEpreXjBPEIhJKwVkUTIQi8gOdkvkRpVWkY/s320/Emma_Lazarus.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emma Lazarus circa December 1871<br />
Image Credit: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Emma_Lazarus.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"Florence Nightingale" by Emma Lazarus</h3>
UPON the whitewashed walls<br />
A woman's shadow falls,<br />
A woman walketh o'er the darksome floors.<br />
A soft, angelic smile<br />
Lighteth her face the while,<br />
In passing through the dismal corridors.<br />
<br />
And now and then there slips<br />
A word from out her lips,<br />
More sweet and grateful to those listening ears<br />
Than the most plaintive tale<br />
Of the sad nightingale,<br />
Whose name and tenderness this woman bears.<br />
<br />
Her presence in the room<br />
Of agony and gloom,<br />
No fretful murmurs, no coarse words profane;<br />
For while she standeth there,<br />
All words are hushed save prayer;<br />
She seems God's angel weeping o'er man's pain.<br />
<br />
And some of them arise,<br />
With eager, tearful eyes,<br />
From off their couch to see her passing by.<br />
Some, e'en too weak for this,<br />
Can only stoop and kiss<br />
Her shadow, and fall back content to die.<br />
<br />
No monument of stone<br />
Needs this heroic one,—<br />
Her name is graven on each noble heart;<br />
And in all after years<br />
Her praise will be the tears<br />
Which at that name from quivering lids will start.<br />
<br />
And those who live not now,<br />
To see the sainted brow,<br />
And the angelic smile before it flits for aye,<br />
They in the future age<br />
Will kiss the storied page<br />
Whereon the shadow of her life will lie.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-92117259624182650532017-01-29T15:07:00.001-07:002017-02-16T20:06:21.050-07:00"The Best Thing in the World" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/305144218&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
English poet, Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born in 1806 and is believed to have written her first poem at the young age of 6. Unlike many classic poets, Barrett Browning was quite well respected and her works were well received during her lifetime. Among the admirers of her work were Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allen Poe; the latter even dedicated a volume of his poems to her in 1845. Perhaps most known for her sonnets and especially the very famous piece, "How Do I Love Thee?", Barrett Browning was a very prolific poet. "The Best Thing in the World" was included in the volume entitled <i>The Complete Poetical Works of Mrs. Browning</i> and was published as a short, 12-line piece of verse. Although there are many sources online which have a version which omits two lines, we have chosen to produce the full poem.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/2isipuww9z33o77/The_Best_Thing_in_the_World_by_Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpuKhch7z9uJCUCGxYnQjMawaKsF4029dNK31xIzRWpZ5cyJ1lRG4LC-naslyOWsLGi88vF_8v7MPFiz2uKaHEWtZhXzQheEYMoughFLl_qlSvJ7DBO5MAhnYb4jJABXxF95cgcr6a8I/s1600/the-best-thing-in-the-world_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpuKhch7z9uJCUCGxYnQjMawaKsF4029dNK31xIzRWpZ5cyJ1lRG4LC-naslyOWsLGi88vF_8v7MPFiz2uKaHEWtZhXzQheEYMoughFLl_qlSvJ7DBO5MAhnYb4jJABXxF95cgcr6a8I/s400/the-best-thing-in-the-world_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://ichthusfamilyproductions.weebly.com/" target="_blank">Victoria Lynn</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://www.wondroussound.com/" target="_blank">Brandon Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://creationadventurefamily.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Riffenburgh</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/skeeze-272447/?tab=latest" target="_blank">skeeze</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Elizabeth Barrett Browning</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/elizabeth-barrett-browning" target="_blank">Bio of Elizabeth Barrett Browning at the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poemofquotes.com/elizabethbarrettbrowning/bestthing_world.php" target="_blank">Concise Analysis of "The Best Thing in the World"</a><br />
<a href="https://beamingnotes.com/2013/07/03/summary-and-analysis-of-the-best-thing-in-the-world-by-elizabeth-barrett-browning/" target="_blank">In-depth Analysis of "The Best Thing in the World"</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Vf8q2mAKxpOrKBqwC0f_aBMvcsLdGOJPusDQmNnhzFrlJsVobltWLIMpQQwT6q6Uve68teK4IBbjbJWNgfyZqI1-b3x9HL3ke4dy4FZR4RA3V46Nvva_N83-jLtu-Xk1B7Cj-U7cbDs/s1600/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Vf8q2mAKxpOrKBqwC0f_aBMvcsLdGOJPusDQmNnhzFrlJsVobltWLIMpQQwT6q6Uve68teK4IBbjbJWNgfyZqI1-b3x9HL3ke4dy4FZR4RA3V46Nvva_N83-jLtu-Xk1B7Cj-U7cbDs/s320/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br />
Image source: <a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/68/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The Best Thing in the World" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning</h3>
What's the best thing in the world?<br />
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;<br />
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;<br />
Truth, not cruel to a friend;<br />
Pleasure, not in haste to end;<br />
Beauty, not self-decked and curled<br />
Till its pride is over-plain;<br />
Light, that never makes you wink;<br />
Memory, that gives no pain;<br />
Love, when, so, you're loved again.<br />
What's the best thing in the world?<br />
— Something out of it, I think.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-80725397839992629442016-09-30T00:30:00.000-07:002017-02-16T20:10:10.406-07:00"The Eagle" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/285382352%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-GoWtr&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
"The Eagle" was first published in 1851, shortly after Tennyson was appointed as Poet Laureate of Britain in 1850; a position he held until his death in 1892. In spite of its short length, "The Eagle" still contains a lot of meaning. It is packed with beautiful imagery and the iambic tetrameter Tennyson employs allows the words to flow off the tongue in an easy rhythm. It is simply a delightful piece to read and contemplate.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/file/7aa4z0edg9r8k8t/The_Eagle_by_Alfred%2C_Lord_Tennyson.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczHmZ1XbrZRJ6U1QiXQEMOp-xhe5EMrxLHc1i4dQsfhgUTayCHsTbLwWng2JTnvzRoQUQqAn0a-yDPqem9RB3gKmU1f9ht_1E2kMc3H_cIChIvwHZJiLU3Tn9tkmABM5k6ukisa59LYI/s1600/the-eagle_artwork1400-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczHmZ1XbrZRJ6U1QiXQEMOp-xhe5EMrxLHc1i4dQsfhgUTayCHsTbLwWng2JTnvzRoQUQqAn0a-yDPqem9RB3gKmU1f9ht_1E2kMc3H_cIChIvwHZJiLU3Tn9tkmABM5k6ukisa59LYI/s400/the-eagle_artwork1400-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://blackcrowsoft.com/" target="_blank">Kevin Duncan</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Some sounds from the Free Sound Project; http://www.freesound.org/people/dobroide/sounds/132993/)</i></span><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/rise-a-mui-58439/?tab=about" target="_blank">rise-a-mui</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Eagle_(poem)" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "The Eagle"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred,_Lord_Tennyson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Alfred, Lord Tennyson</a><br />
<a href="https://natashafernando.blogspot.com/p/a-critical-analysis-on-eagle-by-alfred.html" target="_blank">Very thorough analysis of "The Eagle" by blogger, Natasha Fernando</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/alfred-tennyson" target="_blank">Bio of Tennyson on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKudjSbXiIfiPJyF1V48smRsHVs0rPj_bfwl1PlFKTeDwsJjN6FvxH5kxbY1MXNn-v61m0uAahCfpFzbH2N9Lck81zqFPVw-CEC3CzIh059LOcqfexRPSudPd8KLnmBk1bOal1seTWNY/s1600/644px-Alfred_Tennyson..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKudjSbXiIfiPJyF1V48smRsHVs0rPj_bfwl1PlFKTeDwsJjN6FvxH5kxbY1MXNn-v61m0uAahCfpFzbH2N9Lck81zqFPVw-CEC3CzIh059LOcqfexRPSudPd8KLnmBk1bOal1seTWNY/s320/644px-Alfred_Tennyson..jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Protrait of Tennyson by P. Krämer<br />
Image Credit: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred,_Lord_Tennyson#/media/File:Alfred_Tennyson..jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The Eagle" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson</h3>
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;<br />
Close to the sun in lonely lands,<br />
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.<br />
<br />
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;<br />
He watches from his mountain walls,<br />
And like a thunderbolt he falls.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-64542982418660716982016-07-31T17:06:00.000-07:002018-12-03T19:45:16.260-07:00"My Shadow" by Robert Louis Stevenson<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=9338120&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Perhaps better known for his fiction works such as <i>Treasure Island</i> and <i>Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde</i>, Robert Louis Stevenson was also a prolific poet, publishing a handful of collections of poems. "My Shadow" was first published in 1885 in a collection titled <i>A Child’s Garden of Verses</i>. The poem is a wonderful snapshot of childhood wonder and innocence.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/v2/episodes/9338120/download.mp3" target="_blank"><b>Click Here to Download this Program</b></a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtonFj84NKJxUBfHlJZXtlSao5u2rPOxXPCp-fKCahQJQpRqxiPsgW9Pwlg47EtalPHl0QVIVHLgLd_0ZT3HOpxFlyuG59Sm3E5gvOfDZpZfW3sCCCSvdBTLa9PxnAVgo0tes8KwOvSo/s1600/my-shadow-cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtonFj84NKJxUBfHlJZXtlSao5u2rPOxXPCp-fKCahQJQpRqxiPsgW9Pwlg47EtalPHl0QVIVHLgLd_0ZT3HOpxFlyuG59Sm3E5gvOfDZpZfW3sCCCSvdBTLa9PxnAVgo0tes8KwOvSo/s400/my-shadow-cover.jpg" width="398" /></a></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jeffreykholbrook.com/" target="_blank">Jeffrey K. Holbrook</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="http://morguefile.com/creative/hotblack" target="_blank">Scott Liddell</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Louis_Stevenson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Robert Louis Stevenson</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/robert-louis-stevenson" target="_blank">Stevenson's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_wWZ2SX0tid1BX5OvgmhdNs2goyV_YX3LOhhOIqo2GrtAHEwznSqLmt0x3RKmSYDGoABHU1JVxbrG-LG3Lul-F8FHrTn7oDgTJ7q8iCJiTr08YCLYRqAS5nSCpWsp8tS1q-_PV0qfuM/s1600/Robert+Louis+Stevenson1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_wWZ2SX0tid1BX5OvgmhdNs2goyV_YX3LOhhOIqo2GrtAHEwznSqLmt0x3RKmSYDGoABHU1JVxbrG-LG3Lul-F8FHrTn7oDgTJ7q8iCJiTr08YCLYRqAS5nSCpWsp8tS1q-_PV0qfuM/s320/Robert+Louis+Stevenson1.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Louis Stevenson, December 1870<br />
Image credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rsl1.jpg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"My Shadow" by Robert Louis Stevenson</h3>
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,<br />
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.<br />
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;<br />
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.<br />
<br />
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—<br />
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;<br />
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,<br />
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.<br />
<br />
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,<br />
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.<br />
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;<br />
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!<br />
<br />
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,<br />
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;<br />
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,<br />
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-25190247410637912472016-06-19T09:00:00.000-07:002018-12-03T19:46:52.620-07:00"The Children's Hour" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=9338076&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, wrote "The Children's Hour" about his relationship with his own three daughters, even using their names in the piece. It was first published in 1860 in the Boston-based magazine, The Atlantic Monthly. Subsequent publishings were often accompanied by a portrait of the three girls. The poem is a beautiful look at a father's love for his children, but also contains the bittersweet tones of the realization that the childhood years are fleeting.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/9338076/the_children_s_hour_by_henry_wadsworth_longfellow.mp3" target="_blank"><b>Click Here to Download this Program</b></a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy50aruoEo0uVJYE04DgjOfZDioAKz1sC6HY9a5rNRDftEKLM5ZbdhlyasjnsFzFCSnCxEs0utu6ew_mlshr5DTSj02rr6gDK1KlXCAGqPs-qAPYaQ5SLBpEsAmSlfwP0vWU-PLw7-pNg/s1600/the-children%2527s-hour_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy50aruoEo0uVJYE04DgjOfZDioAKz1sC6HY9a5rNRDftEKLM5ZbdhlyasjnsFzFCSnCxEs0utu6ew_mlshr5DTSj02rr6gDK1KlXCAGqPs-qAPYaQ5SLBpEsAmSlfwP0vWU-PLw7-pNg/s400/the-children%2527s-hour_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jeffreykholbrook.com/" target="_blank">Jeffrey K. Holbrook</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://wondroussound.com/" target="_blank">Brandon Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://creationadventurefamily.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Riffenburgh</a> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Some sounds from the Free Sound Project; http://freesound.org/people/mrbriandesign/sounds/86991/ and http://freesound.org/people/tuhinpaul/sounds/342838/)</span></i><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/onasill/" target="_blank">Bill Badzo</a> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Adapted and licensed under a <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic license</a>.)</span></i><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Children%27s_Hour_(poem)" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "The Children's Hour"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Longfellow</a><br />
<a href="https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/henry-wadsworth-longfellow" target="_blank">Longfellow's Bio on Poets.org</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/henry-wadsworth-longfellow" target="_blank">Longfellow's Bio on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://www.asfmtech.org/16kalifa4213/2013/01/30/the-childrens-hour/" target="_blank">Analysis of "The Children's Hour" by Andrea Kalifa</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdIJ9uiR06200m0gzETM70J6ZqH_omoZpffJwle6cgMvew-hLLfYimNUrgpeH8cPbyNUYU5lAx8RR2MriLn0dRbF0t_yNBwh7nP78QgZCqXo2zowrrDod9tpTE23OYqm_ZtnNW6d7X2o/s1600/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow%252C_photographed_by_Julia_Margaret_Cameron_in_1868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdIJ9uiR06200m0gzETM70J6ZqH_omoZpffJwle6cgMvew-hLLfYimNUrgpeH8cPbyNUYU5lAx8RR2MriLn0dRbF0t_yNBwh7nP78QgZCqXo2zowrrDod9tpTE23OYqm_ZtnNW6d7X2o/s320/Henry_Wadsworth_Longfellow%252C_photographed_by_Julia_Margaret_Cameron_in_1868.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, photographed by Julia Margaret Cameron in 1868</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The Children's Hour" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</h3>
<br />
Between the dark and the daylight,<br />
When the light is beginning to lower,<br />
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,<br />
That is known as the Children's Hour.<br />
<br />
I hear in the chamber above me<br />
The patter of little feet,<br />
The sound of a door that is opened,<br />
And voices soft and sweet.<br />
<br />
From my study I see in the lamplight,<br />
Descending from the broad hall stair,<br />
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,<br />
And Edith with golden hair.<br />
<br />
A whisper, and then a silence:<br />
Yet I know by their merry eyes<br />
They are plotting and planning together<br />
To take me by surprise.<br />
<br />
A sudden rush from the stairway,<br />
A sudden raid from the hall!<br />
By three doors left unguarded<br />
They enter my castle wall!<br />
<br />
They climb up into my turret<br />
O'er the arms and back of my chair;<br />
If I try to escape, they surround me;<br />
They seem to be everywhere.<br />
<br />
They almost devour me with kisses,<br />
Their arms about me entwine,<br />
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen<br />
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!<br />
<br />
Do you think, o blue-eyed banditti,<br />
Because you have scaled the wall,<br />
Such an old mustache as I am<br />
Is not a match for you all!<br />
<br />
I have you fast in my fortress,<br />
And will not let you depart,<br />
But put you down into the dungeon<br />
In the round-tower of my heart.<br />
<br />
And there will I keep you forever,<br />
Yes, forever and a day,<br />
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,<br />
And moulder in dust away!<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-13091008052979108362016-05-30T18:13:00.000-07:002016-05-30T18:13:07.736-07:00"Evening Solace" by Charlotte Brontë<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/266697971%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-Cwvys&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
English writer, Charlotte Brontë, is probably best known for her novel, <i>Jane Eyre</i>, although she wrote a handful of other novels as well as many poems. For many years she wrote and published her works under the pseudonym, Currer Bell. The poem, Evening Solace, was first published in 1846 as part of a collection of pieces by Charlotte and her two sisters, Emily and Anne.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/download/rwhj770fly4yini/Evening_Solace_by_Charlotte_Bronte.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKmYEq4uVqayMPyk1y_L4sDBTxMCZFseoWfgj9hWbc3HS69lmHtFiQwphWV6_QfxaejJqmzMY55ao5ykErmgkMIsKoO1svEKHEgJPuvmiafJfNzOJlhG45d13xrAqQE71urPP_CeQD8I/s1600/evening-solace_artwork1400-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKmYEq4uVqayMPyk1y_L4sDBTxMCZFseoWfgj9hWbc3HS69lmHtFiQwphWV6_QfxaejJqmzMY55ao5ykErmgkMIsKoO1svEKHEgJPuvmiafJfNzOJlhG45d13xrAqQE71urPP_CeQD8I/s400/evening-solace_artwork1400-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://bookwormbanquet.com/" target="_blank">Nicole Rodrigues</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://wondroussound.com/" target="_blank">Brandon Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/Meitzke-66283/" target="_blank">Frank Meitzke</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlotte_Bront%C3%AB" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Charlotte Brontë</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/charlotte-bronte" target="_blank">Charlotte Brontë's Bio on the Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<a href="http://shengyiren17.blogspot.com/2011/11/charlotte-brontes-evening-of-solace-is.html" target="_blank">Poem Analysis by blogger Sally Ren</a><br />
<a href="http://shardalochan09.blogspot.com/2011/11/evening-solace.html" target="_blank">Poem Analysis by blogger Sharda Lochan</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_QogUFjMXb4rq9vE0c_YnmRu2QPi2YHeNR0jQK-mKOFug8qfzOoun12ofpj4k_QNur2_HdHlMzNbrS2go8c7Xk_t5Dt8_W87vzV60CgMkXaPEvviJrj9tmpFoyxRez8cTa8epbp_pHk/s1600/Charlotte_Bront%25C3%25AB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_QogUFjMXb4rq9vE0c_YnmRu2QPi2YHeNR0jQK-mKOFug8qfzOoun12ofpj4k_QNur2_HdHlMzNbrS2go8c7Xk_t5Dt8_W87vzV60CgMkXaPEvviJrj9tmpFoyxRez8cTa8epbp_pHk/s400/Charlotte_Bront%25C3%25AB.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portrait of Charlotte Brontë by Evert A. Duyckinick, based on a drawing by George Richmond - University of Texas: http://www.lib.utexas.edu/exhibits/portraits/index.php?img=54, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10433</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
"Evening Solace" by Charlotte Brontë</h3>
THE human heart has hidden treasures,<br />
In secret kept, in silence sealed;<br />
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,<br />
Whose charms were broken if revealed.<br />
And days may pass in gay confusion,<br />
And nights in rosy riot fly,<br />
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,<br />
The memory of the Past may die.<br />
<br />
But, there are hours of lonely musing,<br />
Such as in evening silence come,<br />
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,<br />
The heart's best feelings gather home.<br />
Then in our souls there seems to languish<br />
A tender grief that is not woe;<br />
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,<br />
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.<br />
<br />
And feelings, once as strong as passions,<br />
Float softly back a faded dream;<br />
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,<br />
The tale of others' sufferings seem.<br />
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding,<br />
How longs it for that time to be,<br />
When, through the mist of years receding,<br />
Its woes but live in reverie !<br />
<br />
And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,<br />
On evening shade and loneliness;<br />
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,<br />
Feel no untold and strange distress<br />
Only a deeper impulse given<br />
By lonely hour and darkened room<br />
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,<br />
Seeking a life and world to come.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-29087755664373334132016-04-16T19:10:00.004-07:002016-04-16T19:10:37.792-07:00"To Be A Pilgrim" by John Bunyan<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/259429949%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-15Jc5&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
This poem was originally published in 1684 in Part 2 of the well-known allegorical novel that Bunyan wrote, <i>The Pilgrim's Progress</i>. The text was later modified and set to music in the early 1900s and sung as a hymn in churches. There are a few textual variations of the piece and it has also been known under several different titles including, "He Who Would Valiant Be" and "The Pilgrim". We have chosen to use the original text for this reading.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/download/nlz0tr5i057luvw/To_Be_A_Pilgrim_by_John_Bunyan.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxFoDWcIIJIacUYLJ9oVyDIHKcYkG6pFR5D3LJQNBrsA95rxr_4DnZecI2QWmLL0YU1UX1D5GgfIw_JVdPlfVwNR9cPjJ8S7eViU7mPzdW-obvCOONM4aoJnGvyhPVWfeX9-L0XKsU8c/s1600/to-be-a-pilgrim_artwork-1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxFoDWcIIJIacUYLJ9oVyDIHKcYkG6pFR5D3LJQNBrsA95rxr_4DnZecI2QWmLL0YU1UX1D5GgfIw_JVdPlfVwNR9cPjJ8S7eViU7mPzdW-obvCOONM4aoJnGvyhPVWfeX9-L0XKsU8c/s400/to-be-a-pilgrim_artwork-1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="https://soundcloud.com/royiv" target="_blank">Roy Allison</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://unsplash.com/andrewcollins" target="_blank">Andrew Collins</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_Be_a_Pilgrim" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "To Be A Pilgrim"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bunyan" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for John Bunyan</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/john-bunyan" target="_blank">Bio of Bunyan on The Poetry Foundation</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pzv8FJJlaPFpyikpnQrTDk03DIlH9H3ov0gX999fhzPxPSXaoqnUmwdAukee9o8FYe8iXZp6UUmgTTfvZRhToW8AhvhL__r8fQo8Ku6i5Yfx9A1daCrKeNg4I119G7dlyTTMndVgxdo/s1600/John_Bunyan_by_Thomas_Sadler_1684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pzv8FJJlaPFpyikpnQrTDk03DIlH9H3ov0gX999fhzPxPSXaoqnUmwdAukee9o8FYe8iXZp6UUmgTTfvZRhToW8AhvhL__r8fQo8Ku6i5Yfx9A1daCrKeNg4I119G7dlyTTMndVgxdo/s400/John_Bunyan_by_Thomas_Sadler_1684.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Bunyan, circa 1684<br />
image credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AJohn_Bunyan_by_Thomas_Sadler_1684.jpg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
"To Be A Pilgrim" by John Bunyan</h3>
Who would true Valour see<br />
Let him come hither;<br />
One here will Constant be,<br />
Come Wind, come Weather.<br />
There's no Discouragement,<br />
Shall make him once Relent,<br />
His first avow'd Intent,<br />
To be a Pilgrim.<br />
<br />
Who so beset him round,<br />
With dismal Storys,<br />
Do but themselves Confound;<br />
His Strength the more is.<br />
No Lyon can him fright,<br />
He'l with a Gyant Fight,<br />
But he will have a right,<br />
To be a Pilgrim.<br />
<br />
Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend,<br />
Can daunt his Spirit:<br />
He knows, he at the end,<br />
Shall Life Inherit.<br />
Then Fancies fly away,<br />
He'l fear not what men say,<br />
He'l labour Night and Day,<br />
To be a Pilgrim.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-78854774650214452362016-03-25T21:53:00.004-07:002018-12-03T19:48:24.740-07:00"Ballad Of The Tempest" by James Thomas Fields<iframe frameborder="0" height="200px" src="https://widget.spreaker.com/player?episode_id=8101979&theme=light&playlist=false&playlist-continuous=false&autoplay=false&live-autoplay=false&chapters-image=true&episode_image_position=right&hide-logo=true&hide-likes=false&hide-comments=false&hide-sharing=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
This beautiful, narrative poem was first published in 1849 in a volume titled "Poems", just a few years after James Thomas Fields became a partner in a Boston publishing firm. Several of Fields' works reference the sea which may have been due to the fact that his father was a sea captain, although he died when Fields was quite young. After James Thomas Fields' death in 1881 at the age of 63, two of Fields' contemporaries, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and John Greenleaf Whittier, wrote poems in his memory.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://api.spreaker.com/download/episode/8101979/ballad_of_the_tempest_by_james_thomas_fields.mp3" target="_blank"><b>Click Here to Download this Program</b></a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibK2R20Ssa0K3N3OK43wl-gL7vjaW3vhXhJ4ryfWkdNHzlWoCCM6jpQ3HB2kTtZCmDoWYOCHpfMuu7SSPOyb81FUrfRdv3aIMaQjo8o2S9EqKgWIC5H-LgZaYTk3j7A_gWNETWoTeHSRE/s1600/ballad-of-the-tempest_artwork1400v2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibK2R20Ssa0K3N3OK43wl-gL7vjaW3vhXhJ4ryfWkdNHzlWoCCM6jpQ3HB2kTtZCmDoWYOCHpfMuu7SSPOyb81FUrfRdv3aIMaQjo8o2S9EqKgWIC5H-LgZaYTk3j7A_gWNETWoTeHSRE/s400/ballad-of-the-tempest_artwork1400v2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jeffreykholbrook.com/" target="_blank">Jeffrey K. Holbrook</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://wondroussound.com/" target="_blank">Brandon Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://wondroussound.com/" target="_blank">Brandon Boone</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/werner22brigitte-5337/" target="_blank">Brigitte Werner</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Thomas_Fields" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for James Thomas Fields</a><br />
<a href="http://allpoetry.com/James-Thomas-Fields" target="_blank">Bio of James Thomas Fields on AllPoetry.com</a><br />
<a href="http://karnatakaeducation.org.in/KOER/en/index.php/Ballad_of_the_Tempest" target="_blank">Analysis of "Ballad Of The Tempest" from Karnataka Open Educational Resources</a><br />
<a href="https://prezi.com/xpwolba0zfy5/ballad-of-the-tempest/" target="_blank">Presentation-style analysis of the poem by Adrianne Guimond</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh3UqdaNLEFJCZ1CA6t6gAAculrG7-3dMr9jPcn7ujY5SeQHlgMaRWUeCVNcPpdBCloKKffaizvpaL-N7fIEWI8Op8LtayStMztOwf8DQaiol2nL38Al0_36yRoXRNsilwKbd3i69WMc/s1600/James_T_Fields_albumen-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh3UqdaNLEFJCZ1CA6t6gAAculrG7-3dMr9jPcn7ujY5SeQHlgMaRWUeCVNcPpdBCloKKffaizvpaL-N7fIEWI8Op8LtayStMztOwf8DQaiol2nL38Al0_36yRoXRNsilwKbd3i69WMc/s400/James_T_Fields_albumen-cropped.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Thomas Fields<br />
Photo Credit: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Author:James_Thomas_Fields</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
Ballad Of The Tempest by James Thomas Fields</h3>
WE were crowded in the cabin,<br />
Not a soul would dare to sleep,--<br />
It was midnight on the waters,<br />
And a storm was on the deep.<br />
<br />
'Tis a fearful thing in winter<br />
To be shattered by the blast,<br />
And to hear the rattling trumpet<br />
Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"<br />
<br />
So we shuddered there in silence,--<br />
For the stoutest held his breath,<br />
While the hungry sea was roaring<br />
And the breakers talked with death.<br />
<br />
As thus we sat in darkness<br />
Each one busy with his prayers,<br />
"We are lost!" the captain shouted,<br />
As he staggered down the stairs.<br />
<br />
But his little daughter whispered,<br />
As she took his icy hand,<br />
"Isn't God upon the ocean,<br />
Just the same as on the land?"<br />
<br />
Then we kissed the little maiden,<br />
And we spake in better cheer,<br />
And we anchored safe in harbor<br />
When the morn was shining clear.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-10665434515632545442016-03-03T15:20:00.007-07:002016-04-18T11:58:32.192-07:00"London Snow" by Robert Bridges<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/250070874&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
Before beginning to work full time on his literary interests, Robert Bridges worked for 8 years as a physician in several London hospitals. "London Snow" was written several years after he left the medical field and is a beautiful poem full of imagery which details how enchanting a fresh snowfall is for young and old alike. Bridges served as the Poet Laureate of England from 1913 until his death in 1930.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/download/36frnot11q7073q/London_Snow_by_Robert_Bridges.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0qPLRgYh4Ww/VsAGACJIx1I/AAAAAAAAWSI/j1-enBP7D0Q/s1600/london-snow_artwork1400-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0qPLRgYh4Ww/VsAGACJIx1I/AAAAAAAAWSI/j1-enBP7D0Q/s400/london-snow_artwork1400-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://scaredpodcast.com/phil/" target="_blank">Phil Holmes</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://www.wondroussound.com/" target="_blank">Brandon Boone</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="https://creationadventurefamily.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Riffenburgh</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/users/L0nd0ner-776135/" target="_blank">Derek Sewell</a><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Bridges" target="_blank">Wikipedia Entry on Robert Bridges</a><br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-bridges" target="_blank">Robert Bridges Bio on the Poetry Foundation website</a><br />
<a href="http://www.enotes.com/homework-help/what-literary-devices-used-poem-london-snow-by-101343" target="_blank">Analysis of "London Snow" from enotes.com</a><br />
<a href="https://hokku.wordpress.com/2014/12/03/making-unevenness-even-london-snow/" target="_blank">Another Detailed Analysis of "London Snow" by writer David Coomler</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P7IDK1Y2d7QvJVyIMh9TEdsCJ8H8HwocN2nUylgN6GChtIM4UbziA0i5eQxnCcl_dtkaGjYv9UHKaSege_jtIq8w1U7y96cShtgneHpG8z0H_LKvzI9O2806dmf2g-r5RTl5gFl-SOA/s1600/Robert_Bridges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P7IDK1Y2d7QvJVyIMh9TEdsCJ8H8HwocN2nUylgN6GChtIM4UbziA0i5eQxnCcl_dtkaGjYv9UHKaSege_jtIq8w1U7y96cShtgneHpG8z0H_LKvzI9O2806dmf2g-r5RTl5gFl-SOA/s400/Robert_Bridges.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Bridges, late 1800s<br />
Image credit: By Unknown - photograph, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7564333</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
"London Snow" by Robert Bridges</h3>
When men were all asleep the snow came flying,<br />
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,<br />
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,<br />
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;<br />
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;<br />
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:<br />
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;<br />
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,<br />
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.<br />
All night it fell, and when full inches seven<br />
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,<br />
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;<br />
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness<br />
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:<br />
The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;<br />
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;<br />
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,<br />
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.<br />
Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,<br />
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze<br />
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;<br />
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;<br />
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder,<br />
‘O look at the trees!’ they cried, ‘O look at the trees!’<br />
With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,<br />
Following along the white deserted way,<br />
A country company long dispersed asunder:<br />
When now already the sun, in pale display<br />
Standing by Paul’s high dome, spread forth below<br />
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.<br />
For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;<br />
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,<br />
Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:<br />
But even for them awhile no cares encumber<br />
Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,<br />
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber<br />
At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-59957746769385739522016-02-22T10:30:00.000-07:002016-02-22T10:30:16.896-07:00"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/248230815%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-ZgRbq&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
After working for many hours on a poem in 1922, Robert Frost stepped outside and was suddenly inspired to write "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". He said later that he was able to complete the piece in just a few minutes. Published in 1923, it is a beautiful poem which depicts the wonder of watching the snow fall in winter and along with "The Road Not Taken" has become one of Frost's most well-known works.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/download/zb4t6c8yu4lnziy/Stopping_by_Woods_on_a_Snowy_Evening_by_Robert_Frost.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kVtM27trdNY/VsAGAB1wLII/AAAAAAAAWSI/f8LLuKvm6M0/s1600/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kVtM27trdNY/VsAGAB1wLII/AAAAAAAAWSI/f8LLuKvm6M0/s400/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a><br />
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Natasha Green</a><br />
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://greenstreamsstudio.ca/" target="_blank">Christopher Green</a><br />
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="http://www.souvenirpixels.com/photo-blog/full-of-stars" target="_blank">James Wheeler</a> <i>(Adapted and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0 Generic license.)</i><br />
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stopping_by_Woods_on_a_Snowy_Evening" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Frost" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Robert Frost</a><br />
<a href="http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/frost/section10.rhtml" target="_blank">A very thorough analysis of the poem including comments on the rhyming scheme</a><br />
<a href="http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/a_f/frost/woods.htm" target="_blank">Compilation of interpretations of the piece from several academics compiled by the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPoB-7fZwGXFAbZAxH3Gxk5tVIVbQvFOwNno9Jc-lyhUNcdcjPgc_hHj_PVflo_Y_wdUlK0eh8XY0MZUzFRmNgf-pN19ehN4faLODocOZWegJG3Ku8gWh-UAlA8krkxvMAlbI9PFivetE/s1600/robert_frost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPoB-7fZwGXFAbZAxH3Gxk5tVIVbQvFOwNno9Jc-lyhUNcdcjPgc_hHj_PVflo_Y_wdUlK0eh8XY0MZUzFRmNgf-pN19ehN4faLODocOZWegJG3Ku8gWh-UAlA8krkxvMAlbI9PFivetE/s400/robert_frost.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Frost<br />
CREDIT: "Robert Frost, head-and-shoulders portrait, facing front." Between 1910 and 1920. New York World-Telegram and the Sun Newspaper Photograph Collection, Library of Congress.<br />
URL: http://www.americaslibrary.gov/jb/modern/</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost</h3>
Whose woods these are I think I know.<br />
His house is in the village, though;<br />
He will not see me stopping here<br />
To watch his woods fill up with snow.<br />
<br />
My little horse must think it queer<br />
To stop without a farmhouse near<br />
Between the woods and frozen lake<br />
The darkest evening of the year.<br />
<br />
He gives his harness bells a shake<br />
To ask if there is some mistake.<br />
The only other sounds the sweep<br />
Of easy wind and downy flake.<br />
<br />
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,<br />
But I have promises to keep,<br />
And miles to go before I sleep,<br />
And miles to go before I sleep.<br />
<br /></div>
J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581530498842292430.post-80543732600845652242016-02-16T11:00:00.009-07:002016-02-22T09:19:41.991-07:00"The Sky Is Low, The Clouds Are Mean" by Emily Dickinson<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/247370080%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-avAQB&color=0085e4&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
The personification of nature that Dickinson employs in this poem is simply beautiful. As always, she uses a few words to articulate so much and does it so well. It's so easy to visualize in one's mind's eye the scene that she is describing. And then with the last few words, Dickinson brings home the true point of the piece with the comparison of nature to humanity.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media.blubrry.com/verses/www.mediafire.com/download/w4z848ccarc48rx/The_Sky_Is_Low_The_Clouds_Are_Mean_by_Emily_Dickinson.mp3" target="_blank">Click Here to Download this Program</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8wtgFLL-OD0/VsALoV9o9GI/AAAAAAAAWSw/rCHMSpJRJfY/s1600/the-sky-is-low-the-clouds-are-mean_artwork1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8wtgFLL-OD0/VsALoV9o9GI/AAAAAAAAWSw/rCHMSpJRJfY/s400/the-sky-is-low-the-clouds-are-mean_artwork1400.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<h3>
Program Credits</h3>
<h4>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<b>Announcer:</b> <a href="http://spinalcolumnradio.com/" target="_blank">Thomas Lamar</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<b>Narrator:</b> <a href="http://bookwormbanquet.com/" target="_blank">Nicole Rodrigues</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<b>Composer:</b> <a href="http://blackcrowprojects.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kevin Duncan</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<b>Sound Design & Mixing:</b> <a href="http://creationadventurefamily.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Riffenburgh</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<b>Photography:</b> <a href="https://unsplash.com/scogle" target="_blank">Scott Ogle</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<b>Producer/Director:</b> <a href="http://jdsutter.me/" target="_blank">J.D. Sutter</a><br />
<br />
Sound effects credit: <a href="http://www.freesound.org/people/spoonbender/sounds/244942/" target="_blank">creative commons sfx contributor, Dominic Smith</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<a href="http://smellinotes.tripod.com/notes/poetry_class_notes/the_sky_is_low.html" target="_blank">Analysis of "The Sky Is Low, The Clouds Are Mean"</a><br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson" target="_blank">Entry on Wikipedia for Emily Dickinson</a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<a href="https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/emily-dickinson" target="_blank">Bio of Dickinson on Poets.org</a><br />
<a href="https://www.emilydickinsonmuseum.org/" target="_blank">Emily Dickinson Museum in Maryland</a><br />
<br /></div>
</h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXNdsHKWYbJbAV3eA4AkIogrt9xMaqvlgxWa2f0cF8M6WARAeKAAs7jCyb1DxGl7-jaZALLQAMIpJIZCe4SYNG_bQlnrF8sekozYUEWvKo72IgkHYZ-FTvLD37x8YVqbBwag2n_MwYFo/s1600/155_EmilyDickinsonSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXNdsHKWYbJbAV3eA4AkIogrt9xMaqvlgxWa2f0cF8M6WARAeKAAs7jCyb1DxGl7-jaZALLQAMIpJIZCe4SYNG_bQlnrF8sekozYUEWvKo72IgkHYZ-FTvLD37x8YVqbBwag2n_MwYFo/s1600/155_EmilyDickinsonSmall.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emily Dickinson, circa 1846
image credit: Amherst College Library; retrieved from poets.org</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
"The Sky Is Low, The Clouds Are Mean" by Emily Dickinson</h3>
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,<br />
A travelling flake of snow<br />
Across a barn or through a rut<br />
Debates if it will go.<br />
<br />
A narrow wind complains all day<br />
How some one treated him;<br />
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught<br />
Without her diadem.<br />
<br />J.D. Sutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346426516937055741noreply@blogger.com