Відео

So this is rapping…apparently

why are we so haggard at the heart

Music and words,cast a heavenly mood.

Thank you. A treat

It's as supposed to be a fast meter. Learned this poem in high school. Loved it for 60 years

Sure fire enjoyment

Powerful reading.

wow I wonder if he was in a hurry. Liz Taylor must have been waiting for him at home.

A masterpiece of time standing still, the mystical beauty of an English summer day, impeccably read.

Burton has such a captivating voice. He is my favourite on War of the Worlds. Iron Maidens Rime Of The Ancient Mariner, is a good listen also!

I like so much Matthew Arnold's poems and Thank you so much Sir 🙏

I like so much Matthew Arnold's poems and Thank you so much Sir 🙏

I like so much Matthew Arnold's poems and Thank you so much Sir 🙏

Cette lecture est horrible

"until I die he will not leave my side" I feel that one.

❤

Amazing

ua-cam.com/video/81SyYQx-HYA/v-deo.htmlsi=qhORN7cXlzO3nQ3S

Magnifique, tres bien cordialement,une bonne journée avec vous bien sûr...😅🥲🥲👍😘🌹🌹💖💯💯🙏🙏🕊️

This poem is extremely harsh. What biddie hurt this man?

Complelling. "Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, I am He Whom thou seekest!" - Francis Thompson "I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted... " 2 Corinthians 4:13 When did believing begin for you? Can you trace its progression through the stages of development? Can you identify a moment or an hour when all came to fruition and declare that as the hour you first believed? For most of us the progression is a series of disjointed memories, but we can go back to a time when we made a statement of faith, a profession of our belief. That was, for us, the hour we first believed and in that hour, grace was most precious. Let us return to that hour and renew our faith. Let us return to that moment and reaffirm our commitments. Let us return to that time and recommit our lives to Jesus Christ. Let us go back and remember how precious that grace appeared. Let us gaze upon the beauty of grace as we once beheld it. Let us receive grace anew with joyful hearts. Let us be thankful again, as we once were, for the marvel of it all. Undeserving, unlovely, unrepentant, unbelieving as we were, grace invaded our lives. Everywhere we turned, we encountered grace. We sought to flee from its pursuit only to be hunted down at every turn by the Hound of Heaven. And then we stopped running. That was we hour we first believed. And as Francis Thompson testified, we heard His voice: "Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, I am He Whom thou seekest! Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me." And we joined in the song of Charles H. Gabriel, “How marvelous, how wonderful! And my song shall ever be. How marvelous, how wonderful is my Savior’s love to me.”

O Hino Nacional Brasileiro é uma obra-prima de tão linda

Nuit de décembre

Beautiful recitation.

UA-cam is such a blessing.

❤😊 ty 🎥

This piece is also the finale of a quartet for string trio and guitar MS41

What stands out is not just the wonderful, orchestrated delivery, but the intelligence, the profound understanding of the poem and the poet which makes it so thrilling.

Click on setting and change the playback speed. Either .75 or .85, seem about the same but give a different reading.

One of my favourite poems.. based on a true event during the period that became famous for what was later known as, 'The Great Game'. It brings back many memories of my time flying operations in Afghanistan, initially for the UN Offiice for Project Services and later in support of the military. The line; The blood-red snow peaks chilled to a dazzling white, especially poignant, walking out to the aircraft in the early morning, the cold crisp air, the rising red sun would throw a startling pink glow over the snows on the Hindu Kush mountains..

Ik word gelukkig als een kind van dit soort video's 😊

Prachtig, ontroerend mooi.

Dylan likes using they’re dumb in his poems

The Leaden Echo How to keep-is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch or catch or key to keep Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, . . . from vanishing away? Ó is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rankèd wrinkles deep, Dówn? no waving off of these most mournful messengers, still messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey? No there’s none, there’s none, O no there’s none, Nor can you long be, what you now are, called fair, Do what you may do, what, do what you may, And wisdom is early to despair: Be beginning; since, no, nothing can be done To keep at bay Age and age’s evils, hoar hair, Ruck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death’s worst, winding sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay; So be beginning, be beginning to despair. O there’s none; no no no there’s none: Be beginning to despair, to despair, Despair, despair, despair, despair. The Golden Echo There is one, yes I have one (Hush there!); Only not within seeing of the sun, Not within the singeing of the strong sun, Tall sun’s tingeing, or treacherous the tainting of the earth’s air. Somewhere elsewhere there is ah well where! one, Óne. Yes I can tell such a key, I do know such a place, Where whatever’s prized and passes of us, everything that’s fresh and fast flying of us, seems to us sweet of us and swiftly away with, done away with, undone, Undone, done with, soon done with, and yet dearly and dangerously sweet Of us, the wimpled-water-dimpled, not-by-morning-matchèd face, The flower of beauty, fleece of beauty, too too apt to, ah! to fleet, Never fleets more, fastened with the tenderest truth To its own best being and its loveliness of youth: it is an ever- lastingness of, O it is an all youth! Come then, your ways and airs and looks, locks, maiden gear, gallantry and gaiety and grace, Winning ways, airs innocent, maiden manners, sweet looks, loose locks, long locks, lovelocks, gaygear, going gallant, girlgrace- Resign them, sign them, seal them, send them, motion them with breath, And with sighs soaring, soaring síghs deliver Them; beauty-in-the-ghost, deliver it, early now, long before death Give beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty’s self and beauty’s giver. See; not a hair is, not an eyelash, not the least lash lost; every hair Is, hair of the head, numbered. Nay, what we had lighthanded left in surly the mere mould Will have waked and have waxed and have walked with the wind what while we slept, This side, that side hurling a heavyheaded hundredfold What while we, while we slumbered. O then, weary then whý should we tread? O why are we so haggard at the heart, so care-coiled, care-killed, so fagged, so fashed, so cogged, so cumbered, When the thing we freely fórfeit is kept with fonder a care, Fonder a care kept than we could have kept it, kept Far with fonder a care (and we, we should have lost it) finer, fonder A care kept. Where kept? Do but tell us where kept, where.- Yonder.-What high as that! We follow, now we follow.- Yonder, yes yonder, yonder, Yonder.

Mon Dieu quelle lecture ! La beauté de la voix de Gérard Philippe, sa profondeur qui éclaire ce chef-d’œuvre de la poésie. C’est indicible.

a great reading. He could leave just a wee bit more space before the damsel in a vision section..but very evocative and brought the first part to life too

He brings the poet and his creations into my very room.

Never heard this poem. Thank you it’s a gift

Lovely. A great man and Shakespeare wasn’t bad either

Great just great

Thank you!

Bautiful reading. Gentle, soothing voice. Mesmerising voice.

La perfection existe.

La perfection existe.

I can feel the emotions of the poet 🙂

Beautiful ❤️

Sus notas musicales claro

Algo Bien el Gran Paganini en su Resplandor

I thank Barbara Pym for leading me here!

4 Mei 2024, 8 uur 's avonds Wij herinneren hen die vielen voor het vaderland.