PODCAST

The Poem Reader

Dominic Frisby

For lovers of language. Every week a new poem read aloud. www.thepoemreader.com

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1:05

Sonnet 29: When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes

The Poem Reader ·

2025/05/23

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,I all alone beweep my outcast state,And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,And look upon myself, and curse my fate,Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,With what I most enjoy contented least;Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,Haply I think on thee, and then my state,Like to the lark at break of day arisingFrom sullen earth, sings hymns

1:04

Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun

The Poem Reader ·

2025/05/21

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,But no such roses see I in her cheeks;And in some perfumes is there more delightThan in the breath that from my mistress reeks.I love to hear her speak, yet well I knowThat music hath a far more pleasing sound;I grant I never saw a goddess go;My mistress, when she walks, treads on

1:01

Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of...

The Poem Reader ·

2025/05/18

When my love swears that she is made of truthI do believe her, though I know she lies,That she might think me some untutor’d youth,Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,Although she knows my days are past the best,Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:On both sides thus is simple truth suppress’d.But wherefore says she not she is unjust?And wherefore say not I that I am old?O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,And age in love loves not to

1:10

Spring

The Poem Reader ·

2025/05/05

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrushThrough the echoing timber does so rinse and wringThe ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brushThe descending blue; that blue is all in a rushWith richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.What is all this juice and all this joy?A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginningIn Eden garden

0:51

Easter Hymn

The Poem Reader ·

2025/04/20

If in that Syrian garden, ages slain,You sleep, and know not you are dead in vain,Nor even in dreams behold how dark and brightAscends in smoke and fire by day and nightThe hate you died to quench and could but fan,Sleep well and see no morning, son of man.But if, the grave rent and the stone rolled by,At the right hand of majesty on highYou sit, and sitting so remember yetYour tears, your agony and bloody sweat,Your cross and passion and the life you gave,Bow hither out of heaven and see and save

1:09

Sonnet 29: When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes

The Poem Reader ·

2024/12/28

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,I all alone beweep my outcast state,And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,And look upon myself and curse my fate,Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,With what I most enjoy contented least;Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,Haply I think on thee, and then my state,(Like to the lark at break of day arisingFrom sullen earth) sings hymns

2:35

Tommy

The Poem Reader ·

2024/12/02

I went into a public 'ouse to get a pint o' beer, The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here." The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away"; But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play. I went into a theatre as

2:35

Tommy

The Poem Reader ·

2024/11/30

1:04

Funeral Blues

The Poem Reader ·

2024/11/20

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love

1:04

The Man In The Glass

The Poem Reader ·

2024/08/22

When you get what you want in your struggle for selfAnd the world makes you king for a dayJust go to the mirror and look at yourselfAnd see what that man has to say.For it isn’t your father, or mother, or wifeWhose judgment upon you must passThe fellow whose verdict counts most in your lifeIs the one staring back from the glass.He’s the fellow to please – never mind all the restFor he’s with you, clear to the endAnd you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous testIf the man in the glass is your

1:08

Home-Thoughts, From Abroad

The Poem Reader ·

2024/04/20

Oh, to be in EnglandNow that April's there,And whoever wakes in EnglandSees, some morning, unaware,That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheafRound the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,While the chaffinch sings on the orchard boughIn England - now!And after April, when May follows,And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedgeLeans to the field and scatters on the cloverBlossoms and dewdrops - at the bentspray's edge -That's the wise thrush; he

1:22

Good Timber

The Poem Reader ·

2024/01/02

The tree that never had to fightFor sun and sky and air and light,But stood out in the open plainAnd always got its share of rain,Never became a forest kingBut lived and died a scrubby thing.The man who never had to toilTo gain and farm his patch of soil,Who never had to win his shareOf sun and sky and light and air,Never became a manly manBut lived and died as he began.Good timber does not grow with ease:The stronger wind, the stronger trees;The further sky, the greater length;The more the storm,

0:54

Eldorado

The Poem Reader ·

2023/12/29

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight,In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song,In search of Eldorado. But he grew old, This knight so bold,And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of groundThat looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength Failed him at length,He met a pilgrim shadow; "Shadow," said he, "Where can it be,This land of Eldorado?" "Over the mountains Of the moon,Down the valley of the shadow, Ride, boldly ride," The shade

2:24

A Smuggler's Song

The Poem Reader ·

2023/05/06

Subtitled"Hal o' the Draft" -- Puck of Pook's Hill.If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet,Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street;Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie.Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!Five and twenty ponies,Trotting through the dark —Brandy for the Parson,Baccy for the Clerk;Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,And watch the wall, my darling,While the Gentlemen go by!Running round the woodlump if you chance to findLittle barrels,

1:46

The Vanity of Wealth

The Poem Reader ·

2023/04/29

No more thus brooding o'er yon heap,With avarice painful vigils keep:Still unenjoy'd the present store,Still endless sighs are breathed for more.O! quit the shadow, catch the prize,Which not all India's treasure buys!To purchase with heaven has gold the power?Can gold remove the mortal hour?In life can love be bought with gold?Are friendship's pleasures to be sold?No! - all that's worth a wish - a thought,Fair virtue gives unbribed, unbought,Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind,Let noble views

1:21

Upon Leaving His Mistress

The Poem Reader ·

2023/04/23

‘Tis not that I am weary grownOf being yours, and yours alone,But with what face can I inclineTo damn you to be only mine?You, whom some kinder power did fashionBy merit and by inclinationThe joy at least of a whole nation.Let meaner spirits of your sexWith humble aims their thoughts perplex,And boast if by their arts they canContrive to make one happy man;While moved by an impartial senseFavours, like Nature, you dispenseWith universal influence.See the kind seed-receiving earthTo every grain

2:07

The Rolling English Road

The Poem Reader ·

2023/04/01

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did treadThe night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayedTo

1:35

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Poem Reader ·

2023/03/25

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat:They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note.The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar,"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!"Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl, How charmingly sweet you sing!Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried, But what shall we do

1:17

Alone

The Poem Reader ·

2023/03/11

From childhood’s hour I have not beenAs others were—I have not seenAs others saw—I could not bringMy passions from a common spring—From the same source I have not takenMy sorrow—I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone—And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—Then—in my childhood—in the dawnOf a most stormy life—was drawnFrom ev’ry depth of good and illThe mystery which binds me still—From the torrent, or the fountain—From the red cliff of the mountain—From the sun that ’round me roll’dIn its autumn

4:16

Two English Poems

The Poem Reader ·

2023/03/04

To Beatriz Bibiloni Webster de Bullrich I.The useless dawn finds me in a deserted streetcorner; I have outlived the night. Nights are proud waves: darkblue topheavy waves laden with all hues of deep spoil, laden with things unlikely and desirable. Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals, of things half given away, half withheld, of joys with a dark hemisphere. Nights act that way, I tell you. The surge, that night, left me the customary shreds and odd ends: some hated friends to

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