Showing results by narrator "Gideon Wagner" in All Categories

Many giants of literature originate from the shores of the emerald isles: Shakespeare, Dickens, Chaucer, the Brontes, and Austen, to which most people would willingly add the name Thomas Hardy. Far from the Madding Crowd, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, and The Mayor of Casterbridge are but three of his literary masterpieces. But let us go further and add to his canon his poems....

Throughout the long centuries of human history is the want, and the need, to share information, to exchange ideas and for that knowledge and experience, for curiosity and learning, to be the basis of a civil society. In literature the ambition is much narrower. In order to be known, to be popular, you had to be published. And for that people had to know you existed and your ideas worth reading. Obviously for most of humanity's time people couldn't read and texts couldn't be published in any great number.

John Clare was born on 13th July, 1793 in Helpston, a few miles north of Peterborough. Schooled only until the age of 12, his early career was that of agricultural labourer, pot boy, gardener and lime burner. His early life of hardship and frequent malnutrition led to his diminutive stature of five feet and contributed to his later health problems. In 1820 his first poems were published and began to earn him a reputation as the 'Northamptonshire Peasant Poet'. His poetry sold well, but only occasionally did that and other incomes keep his head above water.

Sometimes we just want the best. But that involves choices, judgements, decisions. And that all depends on our feelings, our mood at the time. Even more so with poetry. Would we like a little more pathos, or love, or humour with that? Can we only choose one Keats? And ’If’? Surely Kipling wrote something else? So difficult to decide. This one or that? Is it easier to choose your 50 favourite poets or your 50 favourite poems?

Rudyard Kipling. With our almost religious zeal to categorise and pigeon hole everything it should come as little surprise that one of the poems we learnt at school should so regularly be voted the best ever poem. Whether ‘If..’ deserves that credit or not is irrelevant to this empire wandering artist who was not only a fine story teller but a great poet of the Empires, its people and views.

Algernon Charles Swinburne was born on April 5th, 1837, in London, into a wealthy Northumbrian family. He was educated at Eton and at Balliol College, Oxford, but did not complete a degree. In 1860 Swinburne published two verse dramas but achieved his first literary success in 1865 with Atalanta in Calydon, written in the form of classical Greek tragedy. The following year Poems and Ballads brought him instant notoriety. He was now identified with 'indecent' themes and the precept of art for art's sake.

In the war a great volume of poetry was written, produced and published in books, periodicals, newspapers or letters back to home. We often think of war as a necessity. We fight for a more just and better world. We often fail. But in our poets we gain a truth and a morality that shocks us, consoles us and holds our values to the light. In this volume we hear poems from the front, from home, from soldiers, from auxiliaries, from friend and from foe.

Andrew Marvell was born in Winestead-in-Holderness, in the East Riding of Yorkshire on March 31st, 1621. He was educated at Hull Grammar School, and at the age of 13 he attended Trinity College, Cambridge, and eventually received his BA degree. It is thought that in 1642 Marvell travelled in Europe and, while England was embroiled in its civil war, remained there until 1647, mastering several languages including French, Italian and Spanish.

Life is frenetic. Everything is running faster which usually means we are running later. Everything should have been done 5 minutes ago or better still yesterday. We are slowly falling behind, overwhelmed by busy lives in an ever-exacting world. In these more modern times, time is everything. There’s never enough of it. Classic poets down the decades and centuries have wisely observed that there are many things, both great and small, that bring a sense of stillness, an aura of calm, a chance to re-engage with our feelings and emotions purely by taking time for moments that matter.

George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron, but more commonly known as just Byron, was a leading English poet in the Romantic mMovement along with Keats and Shelley. Byron was born on January 22nd, 1788. He was a great traveller across Europe, spending many years in Italy and much time in Greece. With his aristocratic indulgences and flamboyant style, along with his debts and a string of lovers, he was the constant talk of society.

Macbeth, a general of the army of Duncan, King of Scotland, rises through the ranks after victory over the rebel MacDonald. Inspired by three witches' prediction that he would become king, he and his wife murder Duncan, and he becomes King of Scotland himself. The heir, Malcolm, flees to England, where he is joined by Macduff, the loyal Thane of Fife.

In January 1866 Hopkins composed his most ascetic poem, The Habit of Perfection, but a few days later he included poetry in the list of things to be given up for Lent. In July he decided to become a Catholic, and by May 1868 Hopkins firmly 'resolved to be religious'. Less than a week later, he made a bonfire of his poems and ceased to write for almost seven years.

William Cowper was born 26th November 1731 in Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire. Traumatically he and his brother, John, were the only siblings, out of seven, to survive infancy. His mother died when he was six. In 1763 he was offered a Clerkship of Journals in the House of Lords. With the examinations approaching, Cowper had a mental breakdown. He tried to commit suicide three times, and a period of depression and insanity seemed to settle on him. The end of this unhappy period saw him finding refuge in evangelical Christianity, becoming the inspiration behind his much-loved hymns.

George Meredith, OM, was born in Portsmouth, England on February 12th, 1828. His mother died when he was five. As a 14-year-old he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, staying there for two years. After reading law he was articled as a solicitor but quickly abandoned that career path for journalism and poetry. He collaborated with Edward Gryffydh Peacock, son of Thomas Love Peacock, in publishing a privately circulated literary magazine, the Monthly Observer.

Do men need poems? Is the gender of brawn and ‘can-do’ really a candidate for honeyed verse? Obviously yes. Through the centuries men seem to dominate the writing of poetry. From books of epics to quatrains of love poetry it seemed to be a man’s world. His domain. A volume purely for men, to show other facets of their personalities and characters seems to be an obvious choice. One verse fits all is, in fact, far removed from the truth. Men needs words. They need support, understanding as well as goals, ambition and structure. They need purpose, desire; the need to love and be loved.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti was born on May 12th, 1828 in London, England. Together with William Holman Hunt and John Everett Millais, they developed and founded the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. It’s mission: to reform English art and return to the detail, intense colours and complex compositions of Quattrocento Italian and Flemish art. The brotherhood's magazine, The Germ, was first published in 1850, with Rossetti contributing a poem, 'The Blessed Damozel', and a story about a fictional Italian artist inspired by a vision of a woman.

At this time of the year, as the nights close in and the temperature drops, winter seems like a season that nobody really enjoys, and we look forward all the more to spring. For many children, however, it is the bounty of Christmas that steals their attention, and for others the renewal of the New Year. But for Nature it is a pause for breath, to take stock of what has gone by in the year to date and ready herself for the energies and dramatic development to the landscape that spring will bring.

In 1667, Dryden published Annus Mirabilis, a lengthy historical poem which described the English defeat of the Dutch naval fleet and the Great Fire of London. This work established him as the pre-eminent poet of his generation, and was crucial in his attaining the posts of Poet Laureate in 1668 and a couple of years later, historiographer royal (1670), as his talent encompassed many forms; from poetry to plays to translations. In 1694 he began work on what would be his most ambitious and defining work as translator, The Works of Virgil (1697).

Over the far horizon the blanket of night begins to slowly dissolve. The sun is once more on its daily journey across the heavens. The light begins to sharpen and increase in intensity, revealing the landscape. Morning has begun, and dazed heads and sleepy faces come to terms with the new day. Our poets capture the mood, the emotions and all manner of other details in their descriptions of this time. But then with the calibre of wordsmiths such as Tennyson, Wordsworth, Milton, Southey, Donne and many more besides, we are almost spoilt.

The ninth month of the Gregorian calendar strides onto stage with the autumn equinox and the first glimpses of a new season. Nature may adorn the coming days with a blaze of Indian summer, or the early showers and storms of autumn may begin their symphony. Regardless of Nature’s elemental whims the landscape is a riot of colours, hues and swathes, the harvest of crops continues, the orchards heave with bounty.