A reading of "A Lady" by Amy Lowell — a poem about the beauty that remains after youth has passed: faded silks, old music, fallen roses, and a younger speaker so enchanted by what time has made that she offers up her own bright newness in return.

Recorded live. I read the romantic canon out loud — the works I felt I should read before I die — and you're welcome to come sit for the next one. Subscribe and ring the bell to catch the next live reading.

THE POEM

You are beautiful and faded, Like an old opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenth-century boudoir. In your eyes Smoulder the fallen roses of outlived minutes, And the perfume of your soul Is vague and suffusing, With the pungence of sealed spice-jars. Your half-tones delight me, And I grow mad with gazing At your blent colors.

My vigor is a new-minted penny, Which I cast at your feet. Gather it up from the dust That its sparkle may amuse you.

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Full episodes, wherever you get podcasts: https://open.spotify.com/show/5Lk6a6N...

The reading room — letters, and the before-I-die list: ravynreads.substack.com

RavynReads is poetry read aloud, plus Shelf Lives: hour-long conversations about the books that changed people's lives.

Everywhere: @RavynReads

#AmyLowell #ALady #poetry #darkacademia #poetryreading #booktok

A reading of Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare — a sonnet about growing older, the approach of death, and the strange way knowing something will not last can make us love it more fiercely.

Recorded live. I read the romantic canon out loud — the works I felt I should read before I die — and you're welcome to come sit for the next one. Subscribe and ring the bell to catch the next live reading.

THE POEM

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

LISTEN

Full episodes, wherever you get podcasts: https://open.spotify.com/show/5Lk6a6N...

The reading room — letters, and the before-I-die list: ravynreads.substack.com

RavynReads is poetry read aloud, plus Shelf Lives: hour-long conversations about the books that changed people's lives.

Everywhere: @RavynReads

#Shakespeare #Sonnet73 #poetry #darkacademia #poetryreading #booktok

A reading of "Tears, Idle Tears" by Lord Alfred Tennyson — a poem about memory, loss, and the peculiar ache of realizing that some of the most beautiful parts of life survive only because they are gone.

Recorded live. I read the romantic canon out loud — the works I felt I should read before I die — and you're welcome to come sit for the next one. Subscribe and ring the bell to catch the next live reading.

THE POEM

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

LISTEN

Full episodes, wherever you get podcasts: https://open.spotify.com/show/5Lk6a6N...

The reading room — letters, and the before-I-die list: ravynreads.substack.com

RavynReads is poetry read aloud, plus Shelf Lives: hour-long conversations about the books that changed people's lives.

Everywhere: @RavynReads

#Tennyson #TearsIdleTears #poetry #victorianpoetry #darkacademia #poetryreading #booktok

A reading of "Spring Night" by Sara Teasdale — a poem about standing in a world so beautiful it ought to be enough, and discovering, almost painfully, that beauty cannot quiet the longing to be loved.

Recorded live. I read the romantic canon out loud — the works I felt I should read before I die — and you're welcome to come sit for the next one. Subscribe and ring the bell to catch the next live reading.

THE POEM

The park is filled with night and fog, The veils are drawn about the world, The drowsy lights along the paths Are dim and pearled.

Gold and gleaming the empty streets, Gold and gleaming the misty lake, The mirrored lights like sunken swords, Glimmer and shake.

Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat should ache with praise, and I Should kneel in joy beneath the sky. Oh, beauty, are you not enough?

Why am I crying after love With youth, a singing voice and eyes To take earth's wonder with surprise? Why have I put off my pride, Why am I unsatisfied, I for whom the pensive night Binds her cloudy hair with light, I for whom all beauty burns Like incense in a million urns? Oh, beauty, are you not enough? Why am I crying after love?

LISTEN

Full episodes, wherever you get podcasts: https://open.spotify.com/show/5Lk6a6N...

The reading room — letters, and the before-I-die list: ravynreads.substack.com

RavynReads is poetry read aloud, plus Shelf Lives: hour-long conversations about the books that changed people's lives.

Everywhere: @RavynReads

#SaraTeasdale #SpringNight #poetry #darkacademia #poetryreading #booktok

A reading of Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare, the sonnet that begins in envy and self-pity and turns, on a single thought of the beloved, into the richest man alive.

Recorded live. I read the romantic canon out loud, the works I felt I should read before I die, and you're welcome to come sit for the next one. Subscribe and ring the bell to catch the next live reading.

THE POEM

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 arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

LISTEN

The reading room — letters, and the before-I-die list: ravynreads.substack.com

RavynReads is poetry read aloud, plus Shelf Lives: hour-long conversations about the books that changed people's lives.

Everywhere: @RavynReads

A reading of "Up-Hill" by Christina Rossetti (1861). Recorded LIVE on Youtube! If you want to catch one of the live recordings, follow me on Youtube and TikTok: @RavynReads

The reading room, letters, and the before-I-die list: ravynreads.substack.com RavynReads is poetry read aloud, plus Shelf Lives: hour-long conversations about the books that changed people's lives.

Everywhere: @RavynReads

I take my first steps into William Shakespeare. Sonnet 18. Shall I Compare Thee? I hope you enjoy the reading, @RavynReads for socials as always and @RavynReads for daily livestream recording sessions!

I've just returned from the West Village in New York City, On an unassuming street, lies a small theatre. The Cherry Lane Theatre. The oldest off-Broadway theatre still in operation. The theatre holds memories and poetry. Today I start an exploration of Edna St. Vincent Millay with "First Fig". The patron of that theatre. @ravynreads on socials if you are so inclined.

Lord Tennyson brings one of the most beautiful descriptions of love I've ever heard. @RavynReads if you'd like to follow on socials