I Will Read To You

Colin Wright

A variety of things, read to you by Colin Wright.

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Society & CultureSociety & Culture

Episodes

Summer Wind
Oct 5 2022
Summer Wind
Summer Windby William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)It is a sultry day; the sun has drunkThe dew that lay upon the morning grass;There is no rustling in the lofty elmThat canopies my dwelling, and its shadeScarce cools me. All is silent, save the faintAnd interrupted murmur of the bee,Settling on the sick flowers, and then againInstantly on the wing. The plants aroundFeel the too potent fervors: the tall maizeRolls up its long green leaves; the clover droopsIts tender foliage, and declines its blooms.But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,As if the scorching heat and dazzling lightWere but an element they loved. Bright clouds,Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven—Their bases on the mountains—their white topsShining in the far ether—fire the airWith a reflected radiance, and make turnThe gazer’s eye away. For me, I lieLanguidly in the shade, where the thick turf,Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,Retains some freshness, and I woo the windThat still delays his coming. Why so slow,Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earthCoolness and life! Is it that in his cavesHe hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,The pine is bending his proud top, and nowAmong the nearer groves, chestnut and oakAre tossing their green boughs about. He comes;Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!The deep distressful silence of the sceneBreaks up with mingling of unnumbered soundsAnd universal motion. He is come,Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,And bearing on their fragrance; and he bringsMusic of birds, and rustling of young boughs,And sound of swaying branches, and the voiceOf distant waterfalls. All the green herbsAre stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,By the road-side and the borders of the brook,Nod gayly to each other; glossy leavesAre twinkling in the sun, as if the dewWere on them yet, and silver waters breakInto small waves and sparkle as he comes. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iwillreadtoyou.substack.com/subscribe
The Road That Has No End
Aug 24 2022
The Road That Has No End
The Road That Has No Endby Joseph Burrows (1953-2009)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.    The flowers bloom along the road    That has no end    Cool breezes blow, the gum trees sway    And bend;    The wild doves woo, and softly coo    Their soothing notes,    And mend    Heart’s throbbing pain to sweet content,    And peace lights on the mind’s sad trend    There’s pain and toil along the road    That has no end;    A sinking heart, and weary feet    That spend    Their strength, and lag and crave respite;    And dim tired eyes    That tend    To close their heavy lids upon    The stinging dusts that upward wend.    There are sweet still hours along the road    That has no end    ‘Neath twinkling stars when night’s deep shades    O’erpend;    A man’s eyes shine with gathered tears,    And memories come    To rend    His straining heart strings, while above    The paling lights his mood commend.    I love the road, the swagman’s road    That has no end;    I love its joys, that pains and toils    Transcend;    It is my dreams, the life that fills my heart    And when death comes and would    My peacefulness    Amend,    I pray that God may let my soul depart    With my tattered swag beside me,    ‘Mid my friends that never chide me,    And my face towards the distant clouded hill,    Where leads the far brown winding road    That has no end. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iwillreadtoyou.substack.com/subscribe