The Things We Dare Not Tell The fields are fair in autumn yet, and the sun's still shining there, But we bow our heads and we brood and fret, because of the masks we wear; Or we nod and smile the social while, and we say we're doing well, But we break our hearts, oh, we break our hearts! for the things we must not tell. There's the old love wronged ere the new was won, there's the light of long ago; There's the cruel lie that we suffer for, and the public must not know. So we go through life wit...
Jun 03, 2020•5 min•Season 1Ep. 39
Little Tiger Little Tiger, burning bright With a subtle Blakeish light, Tell what visions have their home In those eyes of flame and chrome! Children vex thee - thoughtless, gay - Holding when thou wouldst away: What dark lore is that which thou, Spitting, mixest with thy meow? Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER , SPOTIFY , RADIOPUBLIC or your podcatcher of choice . Find us on FACEBOOK , TWITTER or INSTAGRAM . Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy...
May 31, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 38
Blue Song I am tired. I am tired of speech and of action. If you should meet me upon the street do not question me for I can tell you only my name and the name of the town I was born in–but that is enough. It does not matter whether tomorrow arrives anymore. If there is only this night and after it is morning it will not matter now. I am tired. I am tired of speech and of action. In the heart of me you will find a tiny handful of dust. Take it and blow it out upon the wind. Let the wind have it ...
May 28, 2020•4 min
Fact and Fancy By H. P. Lovecraft How dull the wretch, whose philosophic mind Disdains the pleasures of fantastic kind; Whose prosy thoughts the joys of life exclude, And wreck the solace of the poet’s mood! Young Zeno, practic’d in the Stoic’s art, Rejects the language of the glowing heart; Dissolves sweet Nature to a mess of laws; Condemns th’ effect whilst looking for the cause; Freezes poor Ovid in an ic’d review, And sneers because his fables are untrue! In search of Truth the hopeful zealo...
May 26, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 36
Death, be not proud BY JOHN DONNE Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sick...
May 22, 2020•2 min•Season 1Ep. 35
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, BY EMILY DICKINSON I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading - treading - till it seemed That Sense was breaking through - And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum - Kept beating - beating - till I thought My mind was going numb - And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space - began to toll, As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence,...
May 19, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 34
The Sun Rising BY JOHN DONNE Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school boys and sour prentices, Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices, Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. Thy beams, so reverend and strong Why shouldst thou think? I could eclipse and cl...
May 16, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 33
“Alone” BY EDGAR ALLAN POE From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d— I lov’d alone— Then —in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— F...
May 10, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 32
The Road Not Taken by Robert Lee Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that, the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black Oh, I kept the first fo...
May 07, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 31
Ditty Of First Desire by Federico García Lorca In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.) In the vivid morning I wanted to be myself. A heart. And at the evening's end I wanted to be my voice. A nightingale. Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love. Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER , SPOTIFY , R...
May 04, 2020•2 min•Season 1Ep. 30
Harlem by Langston Hughes What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER , SPOTIFY , RADIOPUBLIC or your podcatcher of choice . Find us on FACEBOOK , TWITTER or INSTAGRAM . Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for ...
May 01, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 29
Apologia by Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will Love that I love so well That my Soul's House should be a tortured spot Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not? Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure, And sell ambition at the common mart, And let dull failure be m...
Apr 28, 2020•5 min•Season 1Ep. 28
The Morning Comes Before The Sun by Susan Coolidge Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose From out night's gray and cloudy sheath; Softly and still it grows and grows, Petal by petal, leaf by leaf; Each sleep-imprisoned creature breaks Its dreamy fetters, one by one, And love awakes, and labor wakes,-- The morning comes before the sun. What is this message from the light So fairer far than light can be? Youth stands a-tiptoe, eager, bright, In haste the risen sun to see; Ah! check thy lunging, rest...
Apr 25, 2020•5 min•Season 1Ep. 27
The Road That Has No End By Joseph Burrows Hast ever tramped along the road That has no end? The far brown winding road, your one Fast friend A tattered weather-beaten swag, A silent mate To send His dumb warm comfort to the heart, A fount where dreams ascend. There's wondrous freedom on the road That has no end; A man's heart glows, his spirit leaps To blend Its joy of life with fierce wind's gust Upon his face: To lend Its cry to Nature's tumult, full And shrill, as twilight shades descend. Th...
Apr 22, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 26
Fringford Brook by Violet Jacob The willows stand by Fringford brook, From Fringford up to Hethe, Sun on their cloudy silver heads, And shadow underneath. They ripple to the silent airs That stir the lazy day, Now whitened by their passing hands, Now turned again to grey. The slim marsh-thistle's purple plume Droops tasselled on the stem, The golden hawkweeds pierce like flame The grass that harbours them; Long drowning tresses of the weeds Trail where the stream is slow, The vapoured mauves of ...
Apr 19, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 25
Adam by Federico García Lorca A tree of blood soaks the morning where the newborn woman groans. Her voice leaves glass in the wound and on the panes, a diagram of bone. The coming light establishes and wins white limits of a fable that forgets the tumult of veins in flight toward the dim cool of the apple. Adam dreams in the fever of the clay of a child who comes galloping through the double pulse of his cheek. But a dark other Adam is dreaming a neuter moon of seedless stone where the child of ...
Apr 16, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 24
Requiescat by Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone, She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it. Find us onli...
Apr 13, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 23
The Tiger by William Blake Tiger Tiger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what...
Apr 10, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 22
Part III Showing how they met by appointment in a grove, where she obliged him to fight or wed her. Early on a summer's morning, When bright Phoebus was adorning Every bower with his beams, The fair lady came, it seems. At the bottom of a mountain, Near a pleasant crystal fountain, There she left her gilded coach, While the grove she did approach. Covered with her mask, and walking, There she met her lover talking With a friend that he had brought; So she asked him whom he sought. 'I am challeng...
Apr 07, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 20
Part IV Showing how they rode together in her gilded coach to her noble seat, or castle, etc. As the gilded coach stood ready, The young lawyer and his lady Rode together, till they came To her house of state and fame; Which appeared like a castle, Where you might behold a parcel Of young cedars, tall and straight, Just before her palace gate. Hand in hand they walked together, To a hall, or parlour, rather, Which was beautiful and fair, - All alone she left him there. Two long hours there he wa...
Apr 04, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 21
Part II Showing the Lady's letter of a challenge to fight him upon his refusing to wed her in a mask, without knowing who she was. Night and morning, for a season, In her closet would she reason With herself, and often said, 'Why has love my heart betrayed? 'I, that have so many slighted, Am at length so well requited; For my griefs are not a few! Now I find what love can do. 'He that has my heart in keeping, Though I for his sake be weeping, Little knows what grief I feel; But I'll try it out w...
Apr 01, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 19
Part 1 Showing Cupid's Conquest Over a Coy Lady of Five Thousand a Year. Bachelors of every station, Mark this strange and true relation, Which in brief to you I bring, - Never was a stranger thing! You shall find it worth the hearing; Loyal love is most endearing, When it takes the deepest root, Yielding charms and gold to boot. Some will wed for love of treasure; But the sweetest joy and pleasure Is in faithful love, you'll find, Graced with a noble mind. Such a noble disposition Had this lady...
Mar 29, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 18
The Lotos-eaters By Alfred, Lord Tennyson “Courage!” he said, and pointed toward the land, “This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.” In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, S...
Mar 26, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 17
For Whom the Bell Tolls by John Donne No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee. Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER ...
Mar 24, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 13
Fire and Ice by Robert Frost Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favour fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER , SPOTIFY , RADIOPUBLIC or your podcatcher of choice . Find us on FACEBOOK , TWITTER or INSTAGRAM . Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy fo...
Mar 23, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 16
Faery Songs By John Keats I. Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more! oh, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core. Dry your eyes! oh, dry your eyes! For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies, Shed no tear. Overhead! look overhead! 'Mong the blossoms white and red Look up, look up! I flutter now On this fresh pomegranate bough. See me! 'tis this silvery bill Ever cures the good man's ill. Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear! The...
Mar 20, 2020•4 min•Season 1Ep. 15
When I was young and had no sense In far-off Mandalay I lost my heart to a Burmese girl As lovely as the day. Her skin was gold, her hair was jet, Her teeth were ivory; I said, 'for twenty silver pieces, Maiden, sleep with me'. She looked at me, so pure, so sad, The loveliest thing alive, And in her lisping, virgin voice, Stood out for twenty-five. Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER , SPOTIFY , RADIOPUBLIC or your podcatcher of choice . Find us on ...
Mar 14, 2020•2 min•Season 1Ep. 12
The Four Ages Of Man By William Butler Yeats He with body waged a fight, But body won; it walks upright. Then he struggled with the heart; Innocence and peace depart. Then he struggled with the mind; His proud heart he left behind. Now his wars on God begin; At stroke of midnight God shall win. Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphy Subscribe to us on ITUNES , STITCHER , SPOTIFY , RADIOPUBLIC or your podcatcher of choice . Find us on FACEBOOK , TWITTER or INSTAGRAM . Hosted on Acast. See ...
Mar 08, 2020•2 min•Season 1Ep. 11
The Water By Henry Lawson Let others make the songs of love For our young struggling nation; But I will sing while e'er I live The Songs of Irrigation; For while the white man shall beget The white man's son and daughter, The two most precious things for us Shall still be wheat and water. We've been drought-ruined in the West, And ever in my dreaming I see wide miles of waving crops And sheets of water gleaming, On plains where fortune died of thirst When my brave father sought her, I see the pa...
Mar 05, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 10
The Reaper and the Flowers by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. "Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he; "Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheav...
Mar 02, 2020•3 min•Season 1Ep. 9
