By
William E. Spear
Volume 1, Issue 25
~~
Full Transcript –
A FORCE OF POETS, PODCAST EPISODE THREE – Christina G. Rossetti
ORIGINAL DATE: 20 June 2023
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The next poet wonders WHAT’S IN A NAME? and hints at telling her secret.
Hear both stories on The 3:57 by William E. Spear.
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Hello my name is William Spear and this is our series titled A FORCE OF POETS.
Our third poet is Christina G. Rossetti.
She was born in December of 1830 in London and died in 1894. Her writing includes the following:
– GOBLIN MARKET about hideous creatures selling fruits such as “grapes fresh from the vine, and pomegranates full and fine.”
– IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER which is her telling of the nativity story.
– And, REMEMBER when she tells her lover to “Remember me when I am gone away // Gone far away into the silent land // When you can no more hold me by the hand.”
This episode focuses on two other poems: WHAT’S IN A NAME? and WINTER: MY SECRET.
From A FORCE OF POETS . . . this is Christina G. Rossetti.
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What’s In A Name?
Why has Spring one syllable less
Than any its fellow season?
There may be some other reason,
And I’m merely making a guess;
But surely it hoards such wealth
Of happiness, hope and health,
Sunshine and musical sound,
It may spare a foot from its name
Yet all the same
Superabound.
Soft-named Summer,
Most welcome comer,
Brings almost everything
Over which we dream or sing
Or sigh;
But then Summer wends its way,
To-morrow,–to-day,–
Good-bye!
Autumn,–the slow name lingers,
While we likewise flag;
It silences many singers;
Its slow days drag,
Yet hasten at speed
To leave us in chilly need
For Winter to strip indeed.
In all-lack Winter,
Dull of sense and of sound,
We huddle and shiver
Beside our splinter
Of crackling pine,
Snow in sky and snow on ground.
Winter and cold
Can’t last for ever!
To-day, to-morrow, the sun will shine;
When we are old,
But some still are young,
Singing the song
Which others have sung,
Ringing the bells
Which others have rung,–
Even so!
We ourselves, who else?
We ourselves long
Long ago.
Rossetti’s next is . . .
Winter: My Secret
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not to-day; it froze, and blows, and snows,
And you’re too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell.
Or, after all, perhaps there’s none:
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.
To-day’s a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl,
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps:
I cannot ope to every one who taps,
And let the draughts come whistling through my hall;
Come bounding and surrounding me,
Come buffeting, astounding me,
Nipping and clipping through my wraps and all.
I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows
His nose to Russian snows
To be pecked at by every wind that blows?
You would not peck? I thank you for good-will,
Believe, but leave that truth untested still.
Spring’s an expansive time: yet I don’t trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither through the sunless hours.
Perhaps some languid summer day,
When drowsy birds sing less and less,
And golden fruit is ripening to excess,
If there’s not too much sun nor too much cloud,
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud,
Perhaps my secret I may say,
Or you may guess.
(Theme for A Force of Poets fades up and under)
You’ve just listened to Christina G. Rossetti the Third Poet of A FORCE OF POETS.
Theme music is through the courtesy of QubeSounds at PixaBay.
The Three Fifty-seven is written and produced by William Spear.
Thank you for listening.
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