Poetry Performed Episode 018 - To Winter by William Blake

Episode 018 - To Winter by William Blake
In the middle of winter, as the days are short and nights seem long, sometimes the best thing you can do is curl up with a warm drink and enjoy a book, a movie, or perhaps, a poem. I’m delighted you’re joining me for this week’s poem, “To Winter” by William Blake.

Before we get to this week's poem, I just wanted to take a moment to ask you to take a moment to rate and review the show, and make sure you’re subscribed so you don’t miss an episode.

To Winter by William Blake

O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:

The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark

Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs

Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep

Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathed

In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;

For he hath rear’d his scepter o’er the world.

Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings

To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks:

He withers all in silence, and in his hand

Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner

Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal’st

With storms; till heaven smiles, and the monster

Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.

That was To Winter by William Blake. William Blake was born in 1757. He is now recognized as an important figure in the English romantic movement, but he didn’t receive a lot of recognition during his lifetime. Beyond poetry, he was a painter and printmaker. He died in 1827.

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