My father is a double major in English, after his finance degree. His son, Me, grew up Dyslexia, I can only say now as a adult I can appreciate him and Sir Keats
Yes. She also had me read a lot of classic authors as I got a little older. My youth was filled with classical music, as well. I was an old soul at 15. ;)
I am so amused to read this poem. This is my favorite poem and I liked it so much. Nightingale is a innocent bird and his voice is very sweet. The poems of Keats are so wonderful and fascinating hearts.
Haha, many are. I don't care for his voice, it's a little gimmicky the way he reads...it's too much "him" if that makes any sense, people end up listening for his voice rather than the literature, but this is the case for any celebrity, it's difficult to overcome when super famous. Grateful you found this narration and enjoyed my different version.
Benedict is a brilliant actor. Reading this comment made me realize that I favor this reading because the gentleness in tone captures Keats vulnerability, not just Keats passion. I feel I enter Keats world in this reading 🙋 enthralled is a good word! 😉
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,- That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain- To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep?
You may also like my narration of Keats' "To Autumn:"
th-cam.com/video/_QaT17Z5KUc/w-d-xo.html
My father is a double major in English, after his finance degree. His son, Me, grew up Dyslexia, I can only say now as a adult I can appreciate him and Sir Keats
This carries me back to when I was young and my mother read this to me. Your reading of this brings me that same melancholic comfort.
Aww, really Whispers? Thank you so much!
Trying to reply with the correct account.
Yes it's true.
Whispers Deep That is so cool your mom read those classic odes to you!
Yes. She also had me read a lot of classic authors as I got a little older. My youth was filled with classical music, as well. I was an old soul at 15. ;)
Whispers Deep I play classical piano and love the classics too!
Keats had a sad life but brought a lot to this world. Your narration is great by the way
I am so amused to read this poem. This is my favorite poem and I liked it so much. Nightingale is a innocent bird and his voice is very sweet. The poems of Keats are so wonderful and fascinating hearts.
This is my favourite poem and the best reading of it I've found so far, thank you!!
Thank you so much, Sara! I've forgotten about this narration, as it is from so long ago! So glad you found it and enjoyed it!
It's dreamy ...
EnglishTeachingbyPLNareda
اذا اعجبتك ذي القصيدة الضيم انا اسف لك ذوقك خايس
This video discovery made my life better
Perfect narration for one of many greats from young, romantic, Keats.
I am in love with Keats. The language is beautiful and heartbreaking.
Thank you, Tonya. I have also recorded Ode to Autumn which I will be uploading.
EnglishTeachingbyPLNareda
John Keats, the best among the Romantic Poets
Too bad I only now discover your channel. Great work, sir!
Oh ! Dear......you have revitalised me with your perfect entralling narration....so soothing
I am partial to Benedict Cumberbatch's reading. But my! You did justice to Keats. I was so enthralled❤❤
Haha, many are. I don't care for his voice, it's a little gimmicky the way he reads...it's too much "him" if that makes any sense, people end up listening for his voice rather than the literature, but this is the case for any celebrity, it's difficult to overcome when super famous. Grateful you found this narration and enjoyed my different version.
Benedict is a brilliant actor. Reading this comment made me realize that I favor this reading because the gentleness in tone captures Keats vulnerability, not just Keats passion. I feel I enter Keats world in this reading 🙋 enthralled is a good word! 😉
So beautiful.. thank you. 🙏
Please read more poetry . The Romantics are a treasure trove of the sublime.
Thanks for your comment, I no longer narrate publicly.
Lovely, appropriate, and compelling reading of my favorite poet's poem. Thank you.
gosh... that was rather breathtaking... ☮️
It was one of those reads that just came together, music and voice.
listening with my eyes closed, I am able to see through your voice...
Keats is one of my fav poet ...love him 💛...and narrated like wow
He is my #1 favorite poet, I used to study his work in college. Thanks so much!
This is truly takes me to the heaven for some moments. Love it ❤️
Thank you, Farhana.
I love Everything about this video. Thank you.
Shivers!
🍃🧚♂️💙🧚♂️🍃
Wow.
I am utterly surprised how popular this narration is.
Such a meditation . Love this
A very nice presentation of this one. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Care was given to the phrasing of each sentence. Excellent.
Fantastic rendition of the most sublime of literature..
Thank you very much, Eamon.
Lovely reading 👍 Wish you a Happy New Year and blessings for 2021 Thumbs up!
And to you, thanks for stopping by my channel.
Now 2023 still with ....... Happy New Year 💖💛
So soothing 💟💟 one of my favorites 💞💞
Thank you! Fixing to reread Durin's Song by Tolkien...editing as we speak :)
+Horror Readings by G.M. Danielson oh wow! can't wait to Check it out! 👍💯
A very fine reading.
I like this poem. Its my favourite and the best reading of it. I also like birds so much specially nightingale is my best. Her voice is fascinating.
Love this reading, captures its essence
Thanks, Andrea.
Beautiful.
Keats is and has always been my main ...jam.
He's been mine, as well, spent many happy hours studying the odes and imitating their style.
This ...... ah, well ..... lovely...
Just watched Bright Star and had to have more.
amazing
Wow awesome
Thank you, Beena, I recently recorded "Ode to Autumn" and "The Elgin Marbles," they will be going on TH-cam shortly.
Unspeakable. Just beyond....and..... beyond....
Away! Away! For i will fly to thee
Amazing...
EnglishTeachingbyPLNareda
i love this
Thank you for this. May I ask if I can use the reading for a youtube vlog of a journey to John Keats house?
Hi THE BRITALIAN WAY! You certainly may use my video for your vlog, thank you for asking so kindly! I am eager to hear what you come up with!
0.75x. John Keats forever.
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,-
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain-
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep?
Is it possible for me to marry this voice 😳💜??
❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
Thanks
❤
Amazing!
Thank you, Hasan.
If you are interested in an analysis of this poem, please click here: th-cam.com/video/PoVy5zvRJHc/w-d-xo.html
nice
Lyrics pls
*facepalm* ...which is why there's a link to the poem in the video description...🙄
fine
Thank you.
0:45
Beautiful.
Thank you.
❤️