The Fair Singer — Poem by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)

Poem 66 - 100 days of poetry

To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind. Continue reading "The Fair Singer — Poem by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)"

The Night is Darkening Round Me – Emily Brontë

Poem 65 - 100 days of poetry

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go. Continue reading "The Night is Darkening Round Me – Emily Brontë"

The Consolation – Anne Brontë

Poem 64 - 100 days of poetry

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground
With fallen leaves so thickly strown,
And cold the wind that wanders round
With wild and melancholy moan; Continue reading "The Consolation – Anne Brontë"

Evening Solace — Poem by Charlotte Brontë

Poem 63 - 100 days of poetry

The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;­
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die. Continue reading "Evening Solace — Poem by Charlotte Brontë"

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley – Chapter 1 – Audiobook

Frankenstein — Chapter 1

The commencement of Victor Frankenstein's narrative

previous chapter next chapter

The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning

Poem 62 - 100 days of poetry

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

next chapter

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!”