The words are most important and evoke the melody. Together they fly.
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Great Poems in Song

📕 Soundmark Records - Authors & Poets, The Complete Series

James Baldwin Reads - An Other Country - Rufus' Suicide

A reading of Robert Frost's poem "Provide, Provide"

Robert Frost: Provide, Provide

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect 
The total sky almost without defect, 
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver, 
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone, 
And yet not out by any brook or river, 
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.  

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds 
To darken nature and be summer woods -
 Let them think twice before they use their powers 
To blot out and drink up and sweep away 
These flowery waters and these watery flowers 
From snow that melted only yesterday.

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My melody to words by Robert Frost
Just noticed I've left out a line in repeat of the first verse. Many apologies and hope to correct as soon as I can!
Written and recorded in the park yesterday
x2ed
Picture from vinhanley.com
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A poem that certainly makes one think, almost annoying in its obscurity - and unkindness to 'trees'! 

It seems, though, its obscurity is part of its message - asking us, warning us, not to lose sight of the stars, the heavens, the spirit as we tend to the business of growing, surviving, thriving here in the world.

Frost uses the contrast of dark and light for earth and heaven. We have come from the white snow and are threatened by the ‘dark foliage’. 

And yet there is this genuine problem: how can we grow like the trees without drinking dry the Spring Pools? And how can we grow and multiply without destroying our environment, as it seems increasingly we are?

Frost has no answer, but his poem is a reminder and a warning for us to ‘think twice’.

To beware that in the process of growing up and growing tall like the trees, we do not lose our connection with the heavens, with nature, with our spirit and soul.

Spring Pools -- Robert Frost (in song)

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening- Robert Frost

Birches (ft. Robert Frost)

Poem by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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My melody to the poem by Dylan Thomas
This is the first recording on the day it was written in the park.
This later with simple piano:
https://soundcloud.com/user-734457954/do-not-go-gentle-into-that-goodnight-dylan-thomas-in-song

Do not go gentle into that good night --- Dylan Thomas (in song)

This poem is for my brother Bruce 
(Charles Wolfe addressed his poem 'To Mary')

IF I had thought thou couldst have died,
        I might not weep for thee;
But I forgot, when by thy side,
        That thou couldst mortal be:
It never through my mind had past
        The time would e'er be o'er,
And I on thee should look my last,
        And thou shouldst smile no more!

And still upon that face I look,
        And think 'twill smile again;
And still the thought I will not brook,
        That I must look in vain.
But when I speak—thou dost not say
        What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;
And now I feel, as well I may,
        Sweet Mary, thou art dead!

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
        All cold and all serene—
I still might press thy silent heart,
        And where thy smiles have been.
While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
        Thou seemest still mine own;
But there—I lay thee in thy grave,
        And I am now alone!

I do not think, where'er thou art,
        Thou hast forgotten me;
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart
        In thinking too of thee:
Yet there was round thee such a dawn
        Of light ne'er seen before,
As fancy never could have drawn,
        And never can restore!
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30/7/18
"In the night I was making a prayer to my guardian angel, when I felt the arrival of another spirit. I felt immediately it was Bruce, but wondered if it was polite to interrupt my prayer to welcome him. Immediately the answer came back, of course, and I thought perhaps the angel had facilitated it. Bruce gave me a hug. It felt somehow as though our two spirits were merging for a moment. It was comforting and tearful. Afterwards I said thanks to both. and quickly fell asleep."

18/4/20
"I was tired going to bed. A minute or two after closing my eyes, Bruce appeared before me. His face filled the screen of my vision and, perhaps, also or later, the top of his body. I can’t describe the look on his face. It was one I recognised and something more. He was simply present, no talking, smiling, or facial gestures of any kind. And immediately I felt my heart relaxing and that fragile feeling I’d had all day disappeared in a moment. I couldn’t keep the vision for long - I don’t know: 5 seconds, 10, I doubt 15. It made me happy."

To Bruce --- Charles Wolfe (To Mary)

This lunar beauty
Has no history
Is complete and early,
If beauty later
Bear any feature
It had a lover
And is another.

This like a dream
Keeps other time
And daytime is
The loss of this,
For time is inches
And the heart's changes
Where ghost has haunted
Lost and wanted.

But this was never
A ghost's endeavour
Nor finished this,
Was ghost at ease,
And till it pass
Love shall not near
The sweetness here
Nor sorrow take
His endless look.

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My melody to a poem by WH Auden
(the first fine careless rapture)
wed2ndinchesbsc

This Lunar Beauty --- WH Auden (in song)

Love, meet me in the green glen, 
Beside the tall elm-tree, 
Where the sweetbriar smells so sweet agen; 
There come with me. 
Meet me in the green glen.

Meet me at the sunset 
Down in the green glen, 
Where we’ve often met 
By hawthorn-tree and foxes’ den, 
Meet me in the green glen.

Meet me in the green glen, 
By sweetbriar bushes there; 
Meet me by your own sen, 
Where the wild thyme blossoms fair. 
Meet me in the green glen.

Meet me by the sweetbriar, 
By the mole-hill swelling there; 
When the west glows like a fire 
God’s crimson bed is there. 
Meet me in the green glen.

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My first melody for John Clare's poem
6May10 1stv 2ndedsc

Love meet me in the Green Glen _ v1 --- John Clare

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

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My melody to Hopkins' poem - with bird chorus
Sep 10 Thur 3rd
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Link to a third version:
https://soundcloud.com/user-734457954/the-windhover-gm-hopkins-in-song?si=2f12c5105b0e45589f73cf610ad9502c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

The Windhover --- Gerard Manley Hopkins (in song, with bird chorus)

To: "Announcements" (announce@radio.com)
From: "Internet Multicasting Service" (carl@radio.com)
Subject: HarperAudio!
Content: Robert Frost, "The Death of the Hired Man"
Org: Internet Multicasting Service
Channel: Internet Town Hall

On this segment of HarperAudio!,

American poet Robert Frost reads "West-Running Brook" and "The Death of the Hired Man." These poems, really miniature plays, use a rural New England milieu to express deeper emotional themes of human relationships and the imminence of death. Frost, who was born in 1874 and died in 1963, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1924, 1931, 1937, and 1943. He once described a poem as "a momentary stay against confusion." These readings were recorded in 1956 at Frost’s home.

HarperCollins is the copyright owner of the recordings on HarperAudio! and has consented to a limited distribution of HarperAudio! as an 8 khz computer sound file on Internet Town Hall. It is a violation of United States and international copyright laws to copy these recordings in any other way. Harper Audio is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. To order a copy of this tape, or to request a catalog of all Harper Audio spoken-word cassettes, please call 1-800-C-HARPER or 717-941-1214, write to Harper Audio, A Division of HarperCollins Publishers, Keystone Industrial Plaza, Scranton, PA 18512, or send e-mail to harper@town.hall.org.

HarperAudio! is a production of the Internet Multicasting Service. Support for HarperAudio! is provided by Harper Collins and by O’Reilly & Associates, Interop Company, and Sun Microsystems. Network connectivity for the Internet Multicasting Service is provided by UUNET Technologies and MFS Datanet.

HarperAudio

Robert Frost, "The Death of the Hired Man"

For the best experience, 
-  Click on the song's picture for words and notes.
-  in Album/Playlist/Spotlight, first click on the big picture to the left, then on the new page click the track title. Really, it's worth the effort :) 

With Blake you will see his painting too. Each picture is in dialogue with the words (not just illustrating them).

Bards have combined music & poetry from earliest times. Many poets continue the connection, not least William Blake. But often their melodies are lost or neglected.

Spring Pools -- Robert Frost (in song)

Ian