Classic Audiobook Collection - England and Yesterday by Louise Imogen Guiney ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]

Starting point is 00:00:00 On first entering Westminster Abbey by Louise Imogen Guinea. Holy of England, since my light is short and faint, O rather by the sun and you of timeless passion, set my dialed true, that with thy saints in thee I may consort, and wafted in the cool and shadowed port of poets, seem a little sail long due, and be as one the call of memory drew, unto the saddle void since Aachencourt.

Starting point is 00:00:32 Not now for secular love's unquiet lease, Receive my soul, who, wrapped in thee erewhile, hath broken trist with transitory things, But seal with her a marriage and a peace eternal On thine Edward's altar-isle, Above the stormless sea of ended kings. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 00:00:58 fog by louise imogen guinea read for librivox dot org by sonya fog like bodiless water passing in a sigh through palsied streets the fatal shadows flow and in their sharp disastrous undertow suck in the morning sun and all the sky the towery vista sings upon the eye as if it hurt the horns of jericho black and dissolves nor could the founders know how what was built so bright should daily die thy mood with man's is broken and blend in city of stains and ache of thought doth drown the generous light in which thy life began great as thy dole is smirch it with his sin greater and elder yet the love of man full in thy look though the dark visors down End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. in a harpies claw, Seymour and Dudley and stout heads that saw sundown of Scotland. How with treasons lie white martyrdoms, rank in a company breaker and builder of the eternal law.

Starting point is 00:02:52 oft as I come, the bitter garden row of ruined roses hanging from the stem, where winds of old defeat, yet batter them, infects me. Suddenly must I depart, e'er thought of men's injustice then and now, add to these aisles one other broken heart. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Strikers in Hyde Park by Louise Imogen Geinney, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. Strikers in Hyde Park A wolf reversed the fatal shuttles weave,

Starting point is 00:03:38 slow, but never once they slip the thread. Hither upon the Georgian idlers tread, up spacious ways the lindens interleave, clouding the royal air since yester eve, commend bereft of time and scant of bread, loud, who were dumb, immortal who were dead. Through the cowed world their kingdom to retrieve, what ails the English, Island, altar, mart, and grange, dream of the knife by night. Not so, not so. The clear republic waits the general throw, along her noonday mountains open range. God be with both, for one is young to know her mother's rote of evil and of change.

Starting point is 00:04:35 End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Changes in the Temple By Louise Imogenguine Read for Libravox.org By Eva Davis Changes in the Temple The cry is at thy gates, thou darling ground,

Starting point is 00:04:59 Again, For oft ere now thy children went, Begared and wroth And parting greeting sent Some red old alley with a dial crowned Some house of honor In a glory bound With lives and deaths

Starting point is 00:05:14 of spirits excellent. Some tree, rude taken from his kingly tent, hard by a little fountain's friendly sound. Oh, for Virginius Hant, if only that, maintain the whole, and spoil these spoiling soon. Better the scowling strands should lose, alas, her walled oasis,

Starting point is 00:05:36 and where once it was, all mournful in the cleared quadrangle sat echo and ivy, and the loitering moon. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Lights of London by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librivox.org by Sonia. The Lights of London The Evenfall, so slow on hills, has shot far down into the valley's cold extreme, untimely midnight.

Starting point is 00:06:15 Spire and roof and stream, like fleeing spectres, shudder, and are not the hampstead hollies from their sylvan plot yet cloudless lean to watch as in a dream from chaos climb with many a hasty gleam london one moment fallen and forgot her booth begin to flare her gases bright prick door and window street and lane obscure sparkle and swarm with nothing true nor sure full as a marsh of mist and winking light Heaven thickens over. Heaven, that cannot cure her tear by day, her fevered smile by night. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Doves by Louise, Image and Geine, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis.

Starting point is 00:07:13 Doves. Ah, if man's boast and man's advance be vain. And yonder bells of bow, loud echoing home, and the lone tree For know it, and the dome, that monstrous island of the Middle Main, If each inheritor must sink again under his sires, As falleth where it clomb, back on the gone wave, The disinheartened foam, I crossed cheapside, and this was in my brain.

Starting point is 00:07:45 What folly lies in forecasts and in fears! Like a wide laughter sweet and opportune, wet from the fount, 300 doves of Pauls shook their warm wings, drizzling the golden noon, and in their rain cloud vanished up the walls. God keeps, I said, our little flock of ears. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In the Reading Room of the British Museum. By Louise Imogen, Guinea, read for Librevox.org by Sonia.

Starting point is 00:08:25 In the Reading Room of the British Museum. praise be the moon of books that doth above a world of man the sunken past behold and colour spaces else too void and cold to make a very heaven again thereof as when the sun is set behind the grove and faintly unto nether ether rolled all night his whiter image and his mould grows beautiful with looking on her love thou therefore moon of so divine a ray Lend to our steps both fortitude and blight. Feebly along a venerable way, they climb the infinite, or perish quite. Nothing are days and deeds to such as they, while in this liberal house thy face is bright. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. P.

Starting point is 00:09:36 Across the bridge, where in the morning blow, the wrinkled tie turns homeward, and is fain homeward to drag the black seagower's chain, and the long yards of dowgit dipping low, across dispeopled ways, patient and slow. St. Magnus and St. Dunstan call in vain, from Wren's forgotten belfries in the rain, down the blank wharves the dropping octaves go. forbid not these though no man heed they shower a subtle beauty on the empty hour from all their dark throats aching and outblown i in the prayerless places welcome most like the last gull that up a naked coast deploys her white and steady wing alone end of poem this recording is in the public domain

Starting point is 00:10:32 A Porch in Belgravia by Louise Imogenguine, read for Libravox.org, by Eva Davis. A porch in Belgravia When, after dawn, the lordly houses hide, till you fall foul of it, some piteous guest, some girl the damp stones gather to their breast, her gold hair, rough, her rebel garment, wide, who sleeps, with all that luck and life denied camped around, and dreams how seawward and southwest, blue over Devon farms, the smoke rings rest, and sheep and lambs ascend the lit hillside.

Starting point is 00:11:23 Dear, of your charity, speak low, step soft, pray for a sinner. Planet-like and still, best hearts of all are sometimes set along, only to see and pass, nor yet deplore even wrong itself, crowned wrong, inscrutable, which cannot but have been, forevermore. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. York Stairs by Louise Imogen, Guinea, read for LibriVox.org by Sonia. York Stairs Many amusing I returns to thee. against the formal street disconsolate who kept in green domains thy bridal state with young tidewaters leaping at thy knee

Starting point is 00:12:22 and lest the ravening smoke and enmity corrode thee quiet thy lover sighs and straight desires thee safe afar too graceful gate Throne'd on a terrace of the Boboli Nay Nay thy use is here stand queenly thus till the next fury teach the time and us leisure and will to draw a serious breath not wholly where thou art the soul is cowed nor the fooled capital proclaims aloud barter is God while beauty perishes end of poem this recording is in the public domain in the docks by louise imogen guinea read for librivox dot org by sonya in the docks where the bales thunder till the day is done and the wild sounds with wilder odors cope where over crouching sail and coiling rope lascar and more along the gangway run where stifled thames spreads in the pallid sun a hive of Anarchy from slope to slope, Flag of my birth, My liberty, my hope,

Starting point is 00:13:43 I see thee at the mast-head, Joyous one. O thou good guest, So oft as, young and warm, To the home wind thy hoisted colours bound, Away, away from this too thoughtful ground, Sodden with human trespass and despair, thee only, from the desert, from the storm,

Starting point is 00:14:03 A sick mind follows, into Eden air. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The towpath by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librabox.org by Thomas Peter. Furrow to furrow, o'er to oar succeeds, each length away, more bright, more exquisite.

Starting point is 00:14:35 The sister shells that hither thither flit strew the long stream like dropping maple seeds. A comrade on the marge now lags, now Leeds, Who with short calls his pace doth intimate, An angry pan afoot, But if he sit, auspicious pan among the river reeds, West of the glowing hayricks, tawny black, Where waters by their warm escarpments run,

Starting point is 00:15:05 Two lovers, slowly crossed from Kennington, Print in the early dew a married track. and drain their romew at Eve, and spend the sun, ere, in laborious health, the crews come back. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Old Dial of Corpus by Louise Imogenguine, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. The Old Dial of Corpus Warden of hours and ages, here I dwell, who saw young keble pass, with sighing shook for good unborn,

Starting point is 00:15:51 and towards a willow nook, pole, princely, in the Senate, and the cell, and doubting the near boom of Osnibel, turning on me that sweetly subtle look, Erasmus in his breast, an attic book. Peacemakers all their dreams to ashes fell. Not steadfast, may I image nor attain, save steadfast labor, Futal must I grope after my God, like him in constant bright. But sun and shade must unto you remain alternately a symbol and a hope. Men, spirits, of Emmanuel your light.

Starting point is 00:16:36 End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Ad Antiquarium by Louise Imogen Guine, read for Librevox.org by Eva Davis. At Antiquarium. My gentle Aubrey, Who in everything, Hathed of thy city's youth, So lovely lust, Yet never lineal to her towers august,

Starting point is 00:17:07 Thy spirit could fix, Or perfectly upbring. Sleep, sleep. I hope, not unremembering, Thy comely manuscript, An interthrust, Find delicate, hueless leaves, more sad than dust.

Starting point is 00:17:25 Two centuries unkissed of any spring, filling a homesick page beneath a lime. Thy mood beheld, as mine thy debtors now, the endless terraces of ended time. Vague and green twilight, Goodly was released into that past, where these poor leaves, and thou, due freshen,

Starting point is 00:17:51 in the air of eldest peaties, End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Rooks in New College Gardens by Louise Imogenguine, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. Through rosy cloud and over thorny towers, their wings with darkling autumn distance filled, from Isis Valley border, hundred-hilled. The rooks are crowding home as evening lowers. not for men only and their musing hours by battled walls did gracious wickham build these dewy spaces early sown instilled these dearest inland melancholy bowers Blessed Birds, a book held open on the knee below, is all they guess of Adam's blight. With surer art the while and simpler right, they follow truth in some monastic tree,

Starting point is 00:19:03 where breathe against their docile breasts by night. The scholar's star, the star of sanctity. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Pre-Reformation Churches about Oxford by Louise Imogen Guinea read for Librevox.org by Sonia On the pre-Reformation churches about Oxford Imperial Ifley, Kamner bowed in green and Templar Sandford in the boatman's call and Sweetbelt Appleton and Marcham Wall that dust upon adoring ivy slain. Meek Binsey, Dorchester, where streams could,

Starting point is 00:19:53 convene bidding on graves thy solemn shadow fall clear cessington that sores perpetual holton and hampton poyle and towers between if one of all in your sad courts that come beloved and disparted be your own kin to the souls your head while yet endures some memory of a great communion known at home in quarries of old christendom Ah, mark him. He will lay his cheek to yours. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. On the same, continued, by Louise Imogen, guinea, read for Librivox.org by Sonia. On the same, continued.

Starting point is 00:20:49 Is this the end? Is this the Pilgrim's Day for dread, for dereliction, and for tears? Rather, from grass and air And many spheres In prophecy his spirit sinks away And under English eaves More still than they Far off, incoming, wonderful

Starting point is 00:21:12 He hears the long arrested The believing years Carry the sea wall Shall he, sighing, say Farewell to faith For she is dead at best Who had such much beauty. Or, with kisses lain, for witness on her darkened doors, go by with a new sound.

Starting point is 00:21:36 O banished light so nigh, of them was I who bore thee and who blessed. Even here remember me, when thou shalt reign. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. by Louise Imogen Guinea Read for Librivox.org by Brucecichuk. Whithersoever, cold and fair ye flow, Calm tides of moonlit midnight, bear my mind. Past Christchurch gate with leafy frost entwined,

Starting point is 00:22:27 And Merton, in a huge tiara's glow, And groves in bridal gossamers below, St. Mary's Armoured Spire, And whence aligned, Inaltered eminence for dawn to find, Sleep the droll's Caesars, Hooded with the snow. White sacraments of weather, Shine on me. Up there my footfall, and my fancy sift, lest either blemish an unsainted ground spread so with childhood bid with me outbound on recollected wing mine angel drift across new spheres of immortality and a poem this recording is in the public domain undertones and magdalen by louise mentioned guinea read flibyvox dot org by thomas peter

Starting point is 00:23:38 Fair are the finer creature sounds. Of these is Magdalene Foa, her bees, the while they drop, a serent in the garth from weeds atop, and round the priestless pulpit, auguries of rins and counsel from a hundred leaves, and cherewell fish and laughter feigned to stop the water plantains' way, and dear that crop delicious herbage under coral trees. The cry for silver and gold in Christendom without Threads not her silence and her dark

Starting point is 00:24:13 Only against the icelet tower There break low rhythmic rumours of good men to come Invasive seas of hushed approach That make memorial music With the ear but hark End of poem This recording is in the public domain Port Meadow by Louise Imogen Guinea

Starting point is 00:24:41 Read for Librivox.org by Sonia. Port Meadow The plain gives freedom. Hither, from the town, How oft a dreamer and the book of yore escaped the lamplit square, And heard no more from Cowley Border Surged the game's renown,

Starting point is 00:25:00 But bade the vernal sky with spices drown His head by Plato's in the grass. Before, yon ore that's never old, The sunset oar, at Medley Locke was lain in music down. So seeming far the confines and the crowd, The gross routine, The chaos that vex and tire from this large light,

Starting point is 00:25:23 Sad thoughts in it, hide-driven, Go happier than the inly moving cloud That let Sylvester fall, A floss of fire, abstracted, On the ivory hills of heaven. End of poem. This recording is in the public, domain. Oxford 10. Martyrs Memorial by Louise Imogen Guinea. Read for Librivox.org by Bruce Kachuk.

Starting point is 00:26:00 Such natural debts of love our Oxford knows. So many ancient dews undessecrate, I marvel how the landmark of a hate for witness unto future time she chose. How out of her corroborate ranks arose, the three, in great denial, only great for arts enshrining. Thus, averted straight, my soul to seek a holier captain goes, That sweet adventurer whom truth befell, Whenas the synagogues were watching naught, Whose crystal name on royal oriel hangs like, a shield who to an outland spot led hence beholds his star and counts it well of all his dear domain to live forgot end of poem this recording is in the public domain a last view by louise imogen guinea read for librivox dot org by sonya a last view where down the glen across the shallow ford stretches the open isle from scene to scene by halted horses silently we lean gazing enchanted from our steeper sward

Starting point is 00:27:34 how yon low loving skies of april hoard an hundred pinnacles and how with sheen of spike and ball her languid clouds between gray oxford grandly rises riverward Sweet on those dim, long dedicated walls, silver as rain the frugal sunshine falls. Slowly sad eyes resign them, bound afar. Dear beauty, dear tradition, fare you well, and powers that a glow in you impel our quickening spirits from the slime we are. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Retrieval by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librivox.org by Bruce Kachuk. Stars in the bosom of thy triple tide, June air and ivy on thy grassle stone,

Starting point is 00:28:40 O glory of the west as thou wert sown, be perfect, O miraculous abide, and still, for greatness flickering from thy side, eternal alchemy, a praise, enthrone true heirs in true succession, later blown from that same seed of fire, which never died. Nor love shall lack her solace, to behold, ranged to the morrows, melancholy verge, thy lights uprisen in thoughts, disclosing spaces, and round some beacon spirit, stable, old, in radiant broad tumultuary surge forever

Starting point is 00:29:28 the young voices the young faces end of poem this recording is in the public domain A Ballad of Kenel by Luis Imaging Geinie read for Librovox.org by Nemo A Ballad of Kenel

Starting point is 00:29:55 in Clint Cowbatch Kenelm King Bourne Lieth under a thorn. It was a goodly child, sweet as the gusty may. It was a night that broke on his play. A fair and coaxing night, a little liege, said he, thy sister bids thee come after me. A pasture rolling west lies open to the sun, bright-shod with primroses doth it run. And forty yokes be nigh, apart and face to face, and cow-bells all the morning, in the space.

Starting point is 00:30:37 And there the slowthorn bush, beside the water grows, and hides her mocking head under snows. Black stalks afone with bloom, and never a leaf hath she, thou crystal over the realm follow me. Uplooked the undefiled, all things ere I was born. My sister found, now find me the thorn. They travel down the lane,

Starting point is 00:31:03 and ours dust they made, the belted breast of one bore a blade. The primroses were out, the eyelid oaks were green, the cowbells pleasantly tinked between. The brook was beaded gold, the thorn was burgeoning, where evil Askebert slew the king.

Starting point is 00:31:24 He hid him in the ground, nor washed away the dyes, nor smooth the fallen curls from his eyes. No father had the babe to bless his bed forlorn, No mother now to weep by the thorn. There fell upon that place, a shaft of heavenly light, The thorn in Mirce spake ere the night. Beyond a sister sees, her crowned period,

Starting point is 00:31:52 But at my root a lamb seeth God. On to each even so is due before the cloud, The guilty glory passed of the proud. Boy Kenom has the song. St. Kenalm has the bower. His thorn a thousand years is in flower. End a poem. This recording is in the public domain. Two Irish Peasant Songs by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librivox.org by Sonia. Two Irish peasant songs. One. In Lancaster. But my life is slow to while

Starting point is 00:32:41 Oh, I long to be alone And walk abroad a mile Yet if I walk alone And think of not at all Why from me that's young should the wild tears fall the shower strickeners the earth-colored streams they breathe and me awake and moan to me in dreams and yonder ivy fondly castle wall it pulls upon my heart till the wild tees fall the cabin door looks down a furze lighted hill and far as lechlin cross the fields are green and still

Starting point is 00:33:55 but once i hear the black bird in laughling hatches call the foolishness is on me And the white tears fall 2. In Ulster. Tis the time of the year, if the quick and bow be stanch, The green like a breaker rolls steady up the branch. And searches in the spaces and floods the trunk and heaves, In jets of angry spray that is the under way of leaves. And from the thorning companies the foamy petals fall,

Starting point is 00:34:38 And waves of jolly ivy wing along a windy wall. This the time of the year, the marsh is full of sound, And good and glories it this to smell the living ground. The crimson-headed catkin shakes above the pasture bars, The daisy takes the middle field and spangled it with stars. And down the bang into the lane, the primroses do crowd, All colored like the twilight moon and spreading like a cloud. Tess the time of the year, in early light and glad,

Starting point is 00:35:12 The lark has the music to drive a lover mat. The downs are dripping nightly, The breathed dams arise, Deliciously the fresh its cool the graling's golden eyes. And lying in a row against the chilly north the sheep, In closer place without a wind for little lamps to sleep. Tess the time of the year, I turn upon the height, watch from my hero the dance of going light and if before the sun be hid comes slowly up

Starting point is 00:35:45 the veil honorah with her dimpled throat honora with her pale hey but there's a many march for me and many and many alas I fall to work and song again and let honorah pass End of poem this recording is in the public domain in a ruin after a Thunderstorm by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librevox.org by Sonia. In a ruin after a thunderstorm. Keep of the Norman, old to flood and cloud, thou dost reproach me with thy sunset look, that in our common manners, I forsook hope, the last fear, and stood impartial proud. Almost, almost, while ether spaggle out, death from the smoking stones,

Starting point is 00:36:43 My spirit shook, into thy hollow, as leaves into a brook, No more than they by heaven's assassins cowed. But now thy thousand scarred steep is flecked with the calm kisses of the light delayed, Breathe on me better valor, to subject my soul to greed of life, And grow afraid lest, e'er her fight's full term, The architect see downfall of the stronghold that he made. End of poem. is in the public domain.

Starting point is 00:37:49 ragweed, innocent sweet of breath, runs with the wild Welsh river that never has heard of death. We're thrift with the foot-shell tinted, on the dark coast-road delays, and Foxglove flames in a ruin, and Campion meekly lays, on a crag's uneven shoulder, her satiny cheek for days. Well, these in their mortal beauty, and these in their youth, abound, but over Avivagani, past sunset hour I found, or holy grail of a flower The sun on the hilltop ground End of poem This recording is in the public domain

Starting point is 00:38:29 In a perpendicular church By Louise Imogen Guinea Read for Librevox.org By Thomas Peter The slackened arches never lose their beauty of alarm The tall lines frown along the wall Like angels, sword and arm And where the vaults diverge

Starting point is 00:38:56 A grove with fancied snow, Orest Spread, goes light among a myriad panes, With dust upon her head. England of old most innocent, Whose flower of skill achieved failed quick Islamas lilies, When thy hand no more believed, What hast thou here, beloved but dead, held to thy childish heart? Alas, thy human all of heaven, an own and only art. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. mine and prize none is like her none above her who so lives my youth in me that a little more to love her were to leave her free but to win a katherine is mine utmost love's degree distance called delay and danger built the forwards of her bow she's no sweet for any stranger she's no valley-flower and to win a katherine to her height my heart can tell Up to beauties from Montori I will climb no loudly call,

Starting point is 00:40:35 Perfect and escaping glory folly if I fall, Well, to win a Catherine, to be worth her is my all. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Columba and the Stork by Louise Imogengini, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. The cliffs of Iona were red, with the moon to leave. A finger of rock in the infinite wind in the sea, And white on the cliffs as a volley of spray down flying, The beautiful stork of Arra, indriven and dying.

Starting point is 00:41:23 I stole from the choir, I fed him, I bathed his breast, Till in the late sunshine he lifted his wing to the west. Oh, the bells of the abbey were calling clearer and bolder, and I feared the pale admonishing face at my shoulder columns the saints. But I said with mine arm in air of that banished body and homesick spirit aware, The bird is of Ira out of the storm I bore him, And lo he is free with the valleys of Ira before him, Of the man that was Ira born and in exile yet.

Starting point is 00:42:04 This the reproach I had and cannot forget. This the reproach I had, and never another. Blessed art thou to have lightened the heart of my brother. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Chantry by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librivox.org by Sonia. The Chantry. A loyal lady young, a knight for honor slain.

Starting point is 00:42:40 All beauty and all quiet, sealed of old, upon their images that lie in coiff and morion. A moment since, through rifts and pauses of the rain, that they shot in. The lancet window showered again its moth-like play of silver, rose, and sapphire. Shone what arms of warring duchies glorious, bygone. Lombardy, Desmond, Malta, suited Equitaine.

Starting point is 00:43:10 The while, aloft in arts immortal summer-tide, Fair is the Carver hostel, Fortunate either guest, And man of Moodya England pass, And here outside, fury of toil alone, And fades diurnal storm, Hearts with the King of Saints, Hearts beating light and warm,

Starting point is 00:43:33 To these your courage give, That these attain your rest. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Govalon by Louise Imogen Guinea, read flipperbox.org by Thomas Peter. Slowly, slowly darken, primrose and pimpernel, heather of the rock, a shake on delicious air, slanted seas of spreading grass, green glow and tidal swell, under wind and pausing light, how variably fair! Larks from heaven descending,

Starting point is 00:44:19 hush, not a cloud shadow, where so late the romping lambs chased it in a ring, high along a little wood, quick rain sparkles go, blorange walls the fairy world, the sole substantial thing. April in Govalon, filled with a bright heartbreak, even fall on dying wing, swanlike and supreme, Soon, unheard, the Hides run up the hills to take seven lamps and trail the seven all night in Iska's dream. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. On Leaving Winchester by Louise Imogen Guinea. Red for Lipovacs.org by Nima. A Palmer's Kiss on Thy Familiar Marge.

Starting point is 00:45:24 By Oriel City, whence the soul hath sight, Of passional yesterdays, all gold and large, Arising to enrich our narrow night, Though others bless thee, who so blessed before, Hath pastured, from the violent time apart, Enlaved in super-sensual light the heart, Alone with thy magnificent, no more. Sweet court of roses now, sweet camp of bees,

Starting point is 00:45:58 The hills that lean to thy white bed at dawn, Here, for the clash of raging dynasties, Laughter of boys about a branchy lawn, Hast thou astain? Let ivy cover all, Nor seem of greatness disinhabited, While spirits in their wonted splendor tread from close to close By wolvesy's idle wall

Starting point is 00:46:24 Bright fins against thy lucid water leap And nigh thy towers The nesting wood-dove dwell Be lenient winter And long moons and sleep Upon thee, but on me the sharp farewell Happy art thou O clad and crowned with rest

Starting point is 00:46:46 Happy the shepherd With that I were he whose early way is step for step with thee, whose old brow fades on thine immortal breast. End a poem. This recording is in the public domain. On the sonataph of the Prince Imperial in St. George's Chapel by Louise Imogengini, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. No young and exiled dust beneath is laid,

Starting point is 00:47:20 in soul and tale of high inheritance. though once compassion softly came and made, asleep at Windsor for the sun of France, and sleep so long have kept his image clear, of pain's pollution and the Zulu spear. It seems his piteous self at last that lies, in prayer's old heart built to the island skies, low as the sifted snow is and meek as paradise.

Starting point is 00:47:50 Thus passeth all ye dream of might and grace, Wherefore, beside the stones that cry it loud, Let every musing spirit pause to trace, The cloudburst of that empire like a cloud, And looking on these stainless brows, proclaim, Peace under Corsica's portentous name, And peace to her, who in a sculptured boy, mold of her martyred beauty and her joy

Starting point is 00:48:21 reads here the end of Helen the end of Helen's Troy End of poem This recording is in the public domain Of Jones Youth By Louise Imogen Guine Read for Libravox.org By Eva Davis

Starting point is 00:48:44 I would, unto my fare, Restore a Simple Thing The flushing cheek she had before Out velveting no more no more by Severn Shore, the Carmen grape, the moths, auroral wing. Ah, say how the winds in flooded grass

Starting point is 00:49:06 Unmour the rose. Or guileful ways the salmon pass to sea Disclose. For so, alas, with love alas, With fatal, fatal love, A girlhood goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 00:49:26 Passing the Minster by Louise Imaging Guinea Read for Librivox.org by Melanie T. Praise to thy awful beauty praise And peace, O warden of my ways, Bid all the brow to thee I raise, Eternal unctionful. Nobly and equally thou must take adoration of my dust And unto altitudes or gust,

Starting point is 00:50:00 Thy low-born lover call. Bless me, forget me not, alone, clear our men through thine arches blown, a heartstring of that hope, a stone, fixed also in that wall. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. by the old church tower, through the churchyard grass, and saw there circled with graves all about, the yew tree paternal, the yew tree devout. Then this hot life blood was hard to endure. Oh, death, so I loved thee, the soul love sure.

Starting point is 00:50:58 For stars slip in heaven, they wander, they break, but under the yew tree, not one heartache. And ours, what failure, renewed and avowed. But ah, the long-buried is leal and is proud. Now I came homeward at Merry Christmas, by the wise gray tower, through the green kind grass. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Shropshire Landscape by Louise Imaging Guinea, read for Librevox.org by Nemo. and a silver sheen, rayed from their armor green, some aged limes upstand.

Starting point is 00:51:51 Nye fields kindle and shine, beauty incarnadine, what thrill of what uranium wine, so flushed the placid land. All tints of a broken wave, like the leafy architrave, far up the cloudy spring, and the plowed soil rudder glows than the ruby or the ruby or, the rose, or the moon, when the harvest goes, beneath her blazing wing. Trees keep the broad outpost, dusk by their dusky host, long-love-severn glides, thence towards the hilly south, like a queen, battle-roth upon a vermil saddle-cloth, the three-spired city rides. End a poem. This recording is in the public domain. By Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librivox.org by Sonia.

Starting point is 00:52:55 The Graham Tarton to a Graham. Use me in honor, cherish me as ivy from a sacred tree. Mine in the winds of war to close, around the armor of Montrose, and kiss the death wound of Dundee. Yet fear not me, nor such a state heroic and inviolate, but green and white and azure whined about thy body and thy mind, and by that length enlarge thy fate. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 00:53:36 In a London street by Louise Imogen Guinea read for Librevox.org by Sonia. In a London street. Though sea and mount have beauty and this but what it can, thrice fairer than their life the life here battling in the van. The tragic gleam, the mist and grime, the dread endearing stain of time, the sullied heart of man. Mine is the clotted sunshine, a bubble in the sky that where it dare not enter steals in shrouded passion by, and mine the saffron river sails, and every plain tree that avails to rest an urban eye. The bells, the dripping gables, the taverns corner glare,

Starting point is 00:54:23 the cabs in fire-flight dartings, the barrel organs air, where one by one, or two by two, the headless babes are dancing through the gutters of the square. Not on Sicilian headlands of song and old desire, my spirit shows her pleasure-house, but in the London mire, long, long alone she loves the pace, and find the music in the play as in a minster choir. O deeds of awe and rapture, O names of legendary,

Starting point is 00:54:55 still is it most of joy within your altered pale to be, whose very ills I feign would slake, mine angels are, and help to make, in hell, a heaven for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 00:55:18 Athesil Abbey by Louise Imogen Guinea. Read for Libraux by Thomas Peter. Folly and time have fashioned of thee a songless read. O, not of earth impassioned, their music's mute indeed. Read from the chantry crannies, the orchids burn and swing, and where the arch began is, rest for a raven's wing,

Starting point is 00:55:47 and up the dinted column, quick tales of squirrels wave, and black prodigious solemn a forest fills the knave. Still faithfuler, still faster, to ruin give thy heart, perfect before the master, Aye, as thou wert thou art. But I am wind that passes in ignorance and tears, uplifted from the grasses, blown to the void of years. blown to the void, yet sighing, In thee to merge and cease, Last breath of beauty is dying,

Starting point is 00:56:27 Of sanctity, of peace. Though use nor place forever, Unto my soul befall, By no beloved river, Set in a saintly wall, Do thou by builders given, Speech of the dumb to be, Beneath thine open heaven,

Starting point is 00:56:46 Ah, this will, pray for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Sullen quiet below, but storm in upper air, A wind from long ago in moldy chambers of the cloud Had ripped an arras there, And singed a triple gloom, And let through, in a flame, crowned faces of old Rome,

Starting point is 00:57:39 Regnant, over Rome's abandoned ground, Processional they came. A prisman like any sun, Thurvista's hollow grey, Aloft and one by one, In brazen cask, the emperors loomed large and sank away in ovals of one light each warrior-iron mouth a pageant brutal bride as if once over loudly passed jove's laughter in the south and dimmer these among some cameoed head eloof with ringlets heavy hung as golden stone crop calmly grows around the castle roof an instant gusts again

Starting point is 00:58:22 Then heaven's impacted wall, the hot insistent rain, the thunder-shock, And of the past, mirage no more at all. No more the alien dream pursuing as we went with glory's cursed gleam, Nor sins of Caesar's ruined line engulfed us, innocent. The vision great and dread, corroded, Soul in view, was empty egged and spread, her crimson summer weeds, a shake in tempest. but we knew what Tacitus had born in that wrecked world we saw,

Starting point is 00:58:56 and what thine heart uptorn, my juvenile, distraught with love of violated law. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librevox.org by Sonia. To Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. young father poet much in you i praise adventure high romantic vehement all with inviolate honour sealed and bland to the axe edge that cleft your soldier bays your friendships too your follies whims and frays and most your verse with strict imperious bend heard sweetly as from some old harper's tend and surging in the list brain for days. At Fremlingham tonight, if there should be no guest, beyond the seaborne wind at size, no guard, save moonlight's crossed and trailing spears, and I, your pilgrim, call you,

Starting point is 01:00:10 oh, let me in at the gate, and smile into the eyes that sought you, sorry, down three hundred years. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. For our isaac walton by louise imogen guinea read for librivox dot org by sonya for isaac walton can trout allure the rod of yore in itchon's dream to dip or lover of her banks restore that sweet socratic lip old fishing and wishing are over many a year o hasty oh hasty heart innocent and dear again the foamy shallows fill the quiet clouds amass and soft as bees by kathwin hill at dawn the angless pass and follow the hollow in boughs to disappear o haste o hasty heart innocent and dear nay rise not now nor with them take one golden freckled fool thy sons to-day bring each an ache for ancient arts to cool. But father, lie rather unheard and idle near. Oh, hasty, oh hasty, heart, innocent and dear. While thought of thee, to man is yet a sylvan playfellow, never by thy marble they forget,

Starting point is 01:01:50 in pious cheer to go. As air falls, the prayer falls, over kingly Winchester. O'Hasty, o hasty heart innocent and dear end of poem this recording is in the public domain a footnote to a famous lyric by louise imogen guinea read for librivox dot org by sonya a footnote to a famous lyric true love's own talisman which here shakespeare and sydney failed to teach a steel and velvet cavalier gave to our a Saxon speech chief miracle of theme and touch that many envy and adore I could not love thee dear so much loved I not honor more no critic born since Charles was king but sighed in smiling as he read here's theft of the supremest thing a poet might have said young knight and wit and bow who won mid-war's upheaval lady's praise was twelf of you ere you have had done to blight our modern bays oh yet to you whose random hand struck from the dark hole gems like these archaic beauty never planned nor reared by one degrees which leaves an artist poor and art an earldom richer all her years to you dead on your shield apart be ave passed in tears twas virtuous breath inflamed your liar heroic from the heart it ran, nor for the shedding of such fire, lives since a manly a man.

Starting point is 01:03:41 And till your strophy, sweet and bold, so lovely a, so lonely long, love's self-outdo, dear love lays hold, the parapets of song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Memory of a Breckenshire Valley by Louise Imichengine, read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. Petullis Ubi-Valibus erens, Subchicheteris montibus his capatir, Ad posteros.

Starting point is 01:04:21 1. I followed the wild stream of paradise, White usk, forever showering the sun-ed bee, in the pink chestnut and the hawthorn tree, and all along had magical surmise of mountains fluctuant in those Vesper skies, As unto Murmen, caverned in mid-sea, Far up the vast green reaches,

Starting point is 01:04:45 Soundlessly, the giant rollers form and fall and rise. Above thy poet's dust by yonder you, Ere distance perished, ere a star began, His clear monastic measure heard of few, Through lonelier glens of mine own being ran. And thou to me wert dear, because I knew the God who made thee gracious, and the man. 2.

Starting point is 01:05:16 If by that second lover's power controlled, In sweet symbolic right, thy breath o'er fills, Fields of no war with vagrant daffodils, From distance unto distance trailing gold, If dazzling sands or thickets thee enfold, Transfigure dusk, Where from their mossy sills, grey hamlets kiss thee, and by herded hills, diviner run thy shallows than of old.

Starting point is 01:05:43 If intellectual these, O name thy vaan, creator too, and close his memory keep. Who from thy fountain, kind to him hath drawn, birth, energy and joy, devotion deep, A play of thought more mystic than the dawn, and death at home, and centuried sylvan sleep. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Writ in my Lord Clarendon's History of the Rebellion by Louise Imogen Guinea, read for Librevox.org by Thomas Peter. How life hath cheapened and how blank the world is, like a fen where long ago unstained sank the starry gentleman,

Starting point is 01:06:39 since Marston Moore and Newbury drank King Charles, is gentlemen. If fate in any air accords what fate denied, O then, I ask to be among your swords, my joyous gentleman, towards honors heaven to go, and towards King Charles his gentleman. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A last word on Shelley by Louise Imogenguine, read for Librevox.org by Eva Davis. A last word on Shelley. Each great in rolling wave, a league of sound.

Starting point is 01:07:27 All night, all day, the hostile crags confound. To mirror snow and smoke, the crags remain. Smile at the storm for our safe poet's sake. Not ever this ordained world shall break that mounting foolish foam-bright heart again. End of poem. in the public domain. An epitaph for William Haslet by Louise Imogenguine

Starting point is 01:08:01 read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. An epitaph for William Haslet Between the wet trees and the sorry steeple Keep time In dark Soho What once was Haslet

Starting point is 01:08:17 Seeker of truth And finder oft of beauty Beauty's a sinking Light Ah, none too faithful. But truth, who leaves so here, her spent pursuer, forgets not her great pawn, herself shall claim it. Therefore, sleep safe, thou dear, and battling spirit. Safe also on our earth, beginning ever some one love worth the ages and the nations. Nothing falls under to thine eyes

Starting point is 01:08:52 eternal. Sleep safe in dark Soho. The stars are shining. Tishan and Wordsworth live. The people marches. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Emily Bronte by Louise Imogenguine read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. Emily Bronte What sacramental hurt that brings the terror of the truth of things had changed changed thee. Secret, be it yet, t'was thine upon a headlans set, to view no aisles of man's delight, with lyric foam and rainbow flight, but all a swing, a gleam, mid slow uproar, black sea, and curved, uncouth, sea-bitten shore. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Pax Paganica by Louise Imogengainee,

Starting point is 01:10:03 Read for Libravox.org by Eva Davis. Pax Paganica Good oars for Arnold's sake By Laleham lightly bound And near the bank, oh soft, darling swan. Let not the o'er weary wake anew from natal ground, But where he slumbered oft, slumber on. Be less than boat or bird,

Starting point is 01:10:32 the pensive stream along, no murmur make nor gleam at his side. Where was it he had heard, of warfare and of wrong? Not there in any dream, since he died. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Validiction RLS 1894 by Louise Imogen Guine read for Librevox.org by Eva Davis. VALADICTION RLS 1894 When from the vista of the book I shrink,

Starting point is 01:11:18 From lotted pens that earn in noble wage, begetting nothing joyous, nothing sage, Nor keep with Shakespeare's use one golden link. When heavily my sanguine spirits sink, To read two plain on each imposter page, only of kings the broken lineage. Well, for my peace, if then on thee, I think, Louis, our priest of letters, and our knight,

Starting point is 01:11:49 with whose familiar Baldrick hope is Gert. From whose young hands she bears the grail away, All glad, all great, Trouer, because thou wert, I am and must be. and in thy known light go down to dust content with this my day end of poem this recording is in the public domain

Classic Audiobook Collection - England and Yesterday by Louise Imogen Guiney ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]

There aren't comments yet for this episode. Click on any sentence in the transcript to leave a comment.