Lyr Add: The Glory (Edward Thomas, sound poem)

Subject: The Glory by Edward Thomas 1878 - 1917 (
From: GUEST,Jim Clark..London..Englan
Date: 16 Oct 02 - 07:43 AM

Edward (Philip) Thomas was born in Lambeth, London, of Welsh descent and he was educated at St Paul's college and then Lincoln College at Oxford University (where he studied history). A prolific writer of prose (including biographies of Richard Jeffiries, Swinburne, and Keats), and a moderately successful journalist, he began writing poetry in 1912 under the pseudonym Edward Eastaway) but did not devote himself fully to the medium until 1913 after a meeting with Robert Frost, the American poet, who by then was living in England. ..Thomas enlisted in 1915 with the Artist's Rifles as a private but was killed two years later at Arras having achieved the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. His poems include some of the most noted pieces from the genre, capturing uniquely the essence of the English countryside.....and heres the link to the page with the sound file..

The Glory (musical sound poem) by Edward Thomas 1878 - 1917


Regards..

Jim Clark

All rights are reserved on this sound recording/copyright/patent Jim Clark 2002

The Glory

The glory of the beauty of the morning, -
The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
The blackbird that has found it, and the dove
That tempts me on to something sweeter than love;
White clouds ranged even and fair as new-mown hay;
The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy
Of sky and meadow and forest and my own heart: -
The glory invites me, yet it leaves me scorning
All I can ever do, all I can be,
Beside the lovely of motion, shape, and hue,
The happiness I fancy fit to dwell
In beauty's presence. Shall I now this day
Begin to seek as far as heaven, as hell,
Wisdom or strength to match this beauty, start
And tread the pale dust pitted with small dark drops,
In hope to find whatever it is I seek,
Hearkening to short-lived happy-seeming things
That we know naught of, in the hazel copse?
Or must I be content with discontent
As larks and swallows are perhaps with wings?
And shall I ask at the day's end once more
What beauty is, and what I can have meant
By happiness? And shall I let all go,
Glad, weary, or both? Or shall I perhaps know
That I was happy oft and oft before,
Awhile forgetting how I am fast pent,
How dreary-swift, with naught to travel to,
Is Time? I cannot bite the day to the core

Subject: RE: The Glory by Edward Thomas 1878 - 1917 (
From: GUEST,Jim Clark..London..England
Date: 16 Oct 02 - 03:05 PM

This particular poet,though he died from injuries sustained from the blast of a shell in 1917 as a soldier in the first world war....is most remembered for his poetry describing the idyllic joys of the English countryside...

Regards..

Jim Clark...