300 episodes

Classic Poetry Aloud gives voice to poetry through podcast recordings of the great poems of the past. Our library of poems is intended as a resource for anyone interested in reading and listening to poetry. For us, it's all about the listening, and how hearing a poem can make it more accessible, as well as heightening its emotional impact.
See more at: www.classicpoetryaloud.com

Classic Poetry Aloud Classic Poetry Aloud

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Classic Poetry Aloud gives voice to poetry through podcast recordings of the great poems of the past. Our library of poems is intended as a resource for anyone interested in reading and listening to poetry. For us, it's all about the listening, and how hearing a poem can make it more accessible, as well as heightening its emotional impact.
See more at: www.classicpoetryaloud.com

    621: Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

    621: Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

    Edgar Allan Poe read by Classic Poetry Aloud

    www.classicpoetryaloud.com
    Twitter: @classicpoetry
    Facebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud

    Giving voice to the poetry of the past.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    Annabel Lee

    by Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849)

    It was many and many a year ago,
    In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
    By the name of Annabel Lee;
    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
    Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    But we loved with a love that was more than love,
    I and my Annabel Lee;
    With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven
    Coveted her and me.

    And this was the reason that, long ago,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
    My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsmen came
    And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulchre
    In this kingdom by the sea.

    The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
    Went envying her and me;
    Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
    In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

    But our love it was stronger by far than the love
    Of those who were older than we,
    Of many far wiser than we;
    And neither the angels in heaven above,
    Nor the demons down under the sea,
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

    For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
    In her sepulchre there by the sea,
    In her tomb by the sounding sea.


    Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2007.

    • 2 min
    620. The Snow Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson

    620. The Snow Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson

    Ralph Waldo Emerson read by Classic Poetry Aloud

    www.classicpoetryaloud.com
    Twitter: @classicpoetry
    Facebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud

    Giving voice to the poetry of the past.
    ------------------------------------------------

    The Snow-Storm
    by Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 – 1882)

    Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
    Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
    Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
    Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
    And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
    The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
    Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
    Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
    In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

    Come see the north wind's masonry.
    Out of an unseen quarry evermore
    Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
    Curves his white bastions with projected roof
    Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
    Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
    So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
    For number or proportion. Mockingly,
    On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
    A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
    Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
    Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
    A tapering turret overtops the work.
    And when his hours are numbered, and the world
    Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
    Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
    To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
    Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
    The frolic architecture of the snow.

    Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2008.

    • 2 min
    619. If by Rudyard Kipling

    619. If by Rudyard Kipling

    Rudyard Kipling read by Classic Poetry Aloud

    www.classicpoetryaloud.com
    Twitter: @classicpoetry
    Facebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud

    Giving voice to the poetry of the past.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    If
    by Rudyard Kipling (1865 - 1936)

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

    If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


    Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2007.

    • 1 min
    618. December by Dollie Radford

    618. December by Dollie Radford

    Dollie Radford read by Classic Poetry Aloud

    www.classicpoetryaloud.com
    Twitter: @classicpoetry
    Facebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud

    Giving voice to the poetry of the past.

    ---------------------------------------

    December
    by Dollie Radford (1858 – 1920)


    No gardener need go far to find
    The Christmas rose,
    The fairest of the flowers that mark
    The sweet Year's close:
    Nor be in quest of places where
    The hollies grow,
    Nor seek for sacred trees that hold
    The mistletoe.
    All kindly tended gardens love
    December days,
    And spread their latest riches out
    In winter's praise.
    But every gardener's work this month
    Must surely be
    To choose a very beautiful
    Big Christmas tree,
    And see it through the open door
    In triumph ride,
    To reign a glorious reign within
    At Christmas-tide.


    Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2009

    • 1 min
    617. The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    617. The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow read by Classic Poetry Aloud

    www.classicpoetryaloud.com
    Twitter: @classicpoetry
    Facebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud

    Giving voice to the poetry of the past.

    --------------------------------------------

    The Arrow and the Song
    by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882)

    I shot an arrow into the air,
    It fell to earth, I knew not where;
    For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
    Could not follow it in its flight.

    I breathed a song into the air,
    It fell to earth, I knew not where;
    For who has sight so keen and strong
    That it can follow the flight of song?

    Long, long afterward, in an oak
    I found the arrow, still unbroke;
    And the song, from beginning to end,
    I found again in the heart of a friend.



    Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2008.

    • 53 sec
    616. Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare

    616. Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare

    William Shakespeare read by Classic Poetry Aloud

    www.classicpoetryaloud.com
    Twitter: @classicpoetry
    Facebook: www.facebook.com/poetryaloud

    Giving voice to the poetry of the past.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    Sonnet 18
    by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

    Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
    Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
    Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
    And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
    Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
    And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
    And every fair from fair sometime declines,
    By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;
    But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
    Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
    Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
    When in eternal lines to time thou growest;
    So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


    Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2007.

    • 1 min

Customer Reviews

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continuous readings

wish it would jump to next reading automatically.... it’s a hassle to connect with each 1 min read each time

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Can't listen to it...

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Thank you!

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