Poem 62 - 100 days of poetry
https://soundcloud.com/rob-goll/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin-poem-by-robert-browning
I
Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side; Continue reading "The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning"
Prologue – Frankenstein by Mary Shelley – Audiobook
Prologue — The Four Letters
The novel begins with the framing narrative of Robert Walton via four letters sent to his sister
Robert Walton’s letters to his sister, Margaret Saville, set the framework for the novel. Walton, an ambitious explorer, recounts his expedition to the North Pole, his desire for discovery, and his encounter with a mysterious man, Victor Frankenstein. Through these letters, we gain insight into Walton's character, his ambitions, and his growing admiration for Frankenstein, while being introduced to the tragic tale Frankenstein is about to tell.
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Spoiler Warning: The following content contains a deeper analysis of the letters and reveals plot details for first-time listeners.
Mary Shelley's novel begins in epistolary form, grounding the reader in the reality of Walton’s Arctic expedition. Walton’s letters serve as the first point of contact between the reader and the themes of ambition, isolation, and the pursuit of knowledge.
- Letter 1 introduces Walton’s thirst for adventure, recalling his decision to undertake this dangerous journey. Despite the risk and uncertainty, Walton’s romantic idealism is evident as he dreams of glory and discovery.
- Letter 2 reveals Walton’s loneliness and his deep yearning for a friend who can understand his lofty aspirations. His isolation, a recurring theme in the novel, mirrors Frankenstein's own sense of alienation later in the story.
- Letter 3 shows Walton’s unwavering determination to press on with his mission, undeterred by the perils he faces. His resilience foreshadows Frankenstein’s obsessive pursuit of his scientific goals.
- Letter 4 introduces the reader to Victor Frankenstein, who is found adrift on the ice and nursed back to health by Walton’s crew. Walton quickly becomes intrigued by this enigmatic man, whose tragic story will soon unfold. The bond that forms between Walton and Frankenstein provides a dual reflection of their shared obsession with knowledge and ambition, setting up the main narrative.
These letters prepare the reader for the central themes of the novel: the consequences of unchecked ambition, the price of isolation, and the dangers of challenging the boundaries of nature.
Key Quotes:
- Letter 1:
- “I am going to unexplored regions, to ‘the land of mist and snow’; but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my safety.”
- Letter 2:
- “I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate in my joy.”
- Letter 3:
- “But success shall crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph.”
- Letter 4:
- “Strange and harrowing must be his story, frightful the storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course and wrecked it—thus!”
Do you have any favourite quotes or moments from this chapter? I'd love to hear your thoughts and reflections in the comments below! Feel free to share any observations or insights about Walton's letters or any themes you're noticing as we dive into the story.
Keep following along as we journey into Victor Frankenstein's world—there's much more to come in the next chapter!
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To the Evening Star – William Blake
Poem 61 - 100 days of poetry
Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And then the lion glares through the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence!
He Remembers Forgotten Beauty – Poem by W. B. Yeats
Poem 60 - 100 days of poetry
When my arms wrap you round I press
My heart upon the loveliness
That has long faded from the world; Continue reading "He Remembers Forgotten Beauty – Poem by W. B. Yeats"
You are Old, Father William – Poem by Lewis Carroll
Poem 59 - 100 days of poetry
“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head –
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”
“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door –
Pray, what is the reason of that?”
“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling the box –
Allow me to sell you a couple?”
“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak –
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”
“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”
“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose –
What made you so awfully clever?”
“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs!”
More Strong Than Time – Victor Hugo
Poem 58 - 100 days of poetry
Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;
Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;
Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;
I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.
Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget.
Translation by Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl! — John Keats
Poem 57 of 100 days of poetry
Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!
And let me kneel, and let me pray to thee,
And let me call Heaven’s blessing on thine eyes,
And let me breathe into the happy air,
That doth enfold and touch thee all about,
Vows of my slavery, my giving up,
My sudden adoration, my great love!
Dreams Old — D. H. Lawrence
Poem 55 - 100 days of poetry
I have opened the window to warm my hands on the sill
Where the sunlight soaks in the stone: the afternoon
Is full of dreams, my love, the boys are all still
In a wistful dream of Lorna Doone.
The clink of the shunting engines is sharp and fine,
Like savage music striking far off, and there
On the great, uplifted blue palace, lights stir and shine
Where the glass is domed in the blue, soft air.
There lies the world, my darling, full of wonder and wistfulness and strange
Recognition and greetings of half-acquaint things, as I greet the cloud
Of blue palace aloft there, among misty indefinite dreams that range
At the back of my life's horizon, where the dreamings of past lives crowd.
Over the nearness of Norwood Hill, through the mellow veil
Of the afternoon glows to me the old romance of David and Dora,
With the old, sweet, soothing tears, and laughter that shakes the sail
Of the ship of the soul over seas where dreamed dreams lure the unoceaned explorer.
All the bygone, hushed years
Streaming back where the mist distils
Into forgetfulness: soft-sailing waters where fears
No longer shake, where the silk sail fills
With an unfelt breeze that ebbs over the seas, where the storm
Of living has passed, on and on
Through the coloured iridescence that swims in the warm
Wake of the tumult now spent and gone,
Drifts my boat, wistfully lapsing after
The mists of vanishing tears and the echo of laughter.
On Death by John Keats
Poem 54 - 100 days of poetry
https://soundcloud.com/rob-goll/on-death-poem-by-john-keats
I.
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.
II.
How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
Time by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Poem 53 - 100 days of poetry
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe
Are brackish with the salt of human tears!
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow
Claspest the limits of mortality!
And sick of prey, yet howling on for more,
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore;
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm,
Who shall put forth on thee,
Unfathomable Sea?