The Well Read Poem

As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas during this season of the Well-Read Poem, which is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord.  Today's poem is "Noël" by Théophile Gautier in translation by Agnes Lee. Reading begins at timestamps 5:15 and 7:00. Noël (Christmas) by Théophile Gautier, trans. by Agnes Lee Black is the sky and white the ground. O ring, ye bells, your carol's grace! The Child is born! A love profound Beams o'er Him from His Mother's face. No silken woof of costly show Keeps off the bitter cold from Him. But spider-webs have drooped them low, To be His curtain soft and dim. Now trembles on the straw downspread The Little Child, the Star beneath. To warm Him in His holy bed, Upon Him ox and ass do breathe. Snow hangs its fringes on the byre. The roof stands open to the tryst Of aureoled saints, that sweetly choir To shepherds, "Come, behold the Christ!"

As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas. This series is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14.  We have selected certain familiar poems, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord.  Today's poem is "Good King Wenceslas" by Vaclav Svoboda in translation by John Mason Neale. Reading begins at timestamp 6:53. Good King Wenceslas by Vaclav Svoboda, translation by John Mason Neale Good King Wenceslas look'd out,     On the Feast of Stephen; When the snow lay round about,     Deep, and crisp, and even: Brightly shone the moon that night,     Though the frost was cruel, When a poor man came in sight,     Gath'ring winter fuel.   "Hither page and stand by me,     If thou know'st it, telling, Yonder peasant, who is he?     Where and what his dwelling?" "Sire, he lives a good league hence.     Underneath the mountain; Right against the forest fence,     By Saint Agnes' fountain."   "Bring me flesh,and bring me wine,     Bring me pine-logs hither: Thou and I will see him dine,     When we bear them thither." Page and monarch forth they went,     Forth they went together; Through the rude wind's wild lament,     And the bitter weather.   "Sire, the night is darker now,     And the wind blows stronger; Fails my heart, I know not how,     I can go no longer." "Mark my footsteps, good my page;     Tread thou in them boldly; Thou shalt find the winter's rage     Freeze thy blood less coldly."   In his master's steps he trod,     Where the snow lay dinted; Heat was in the very sod     Which the Saint had printed. Therefore, Christian men, be sure,     Wealth or rank possessing, Ye who now will bless the poor,     Shall yourselves find blessing.

As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas. This series is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord.  Today's poem is "Christmas Carol" by Sara Teasdale. Reading begins at timestamps 4:49 and 7:48. Christmas Carol by Sara Teasdale The kings they came from out the south,    All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysoprase,    And gifts of precious wine.   The shepherds came from out the north,    Their coats were brown and old; They brought Him little new-born lambs—    They had not any gold.   The wise men came from out the east,    And they were wrapped in white; The star that led them all the way    Did glorify the night.   The angels came from heaven high,    And they were clad with wings; And lo, they brought a joyful song    The host of heaven sings.   The kings they knocked upon the door,    The wise men entered in, The shepherds followed after them    To hear the song begin.   The angels sang through all the night    Until the rising sun, But little Jesus fell asleep    Before the song was done.

As befits the time of year, we will be re-visiting six poems of Advent and Christmas during this twentieth season of the Well-Read Poem. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord.  Today's poem is "Mistletoe" by Walter de la Mare. Reading begins at timestamps 5:23 and 8:10. Mistletoe by Walter de la Mare Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.   Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, Stooped in the still and shadowy air Lips unseen—and kissed me there.   This podcast is brought to you by The Literary Life Podcast. To find out more about from Thomas Banks, visit HouseofHumaneLetters.com.

As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas during this twentieth season of the Well-Read Poem. This series is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. We have selected certain familiar ones, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord.  Today's poem is "The Magi" by William Butler Yeats. Reading begins at timestamps 4:51 and 9:39. The Magi by William Butler Yeats Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depths of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering side by side, And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more, Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied, The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.