[MUSIC PLAYING]
Hi, friends.
This is Padre Gautume here.
Season 10 of Portion Bound has come to an end, and season 11, as well as other delicious things from on being in Portion Bound art come later on this year. But I wanted to offer you a nugget. poem I learned off my heart when I was 11.
I should say before I read it for you, I'm recording this at home. So if you hear a siren or a hissing pipe or a neighbor or my friend from Ireland who's visiting me in New York, well, that's the way things go.
[MUSIC PLAYING] The listeners, by Walter Delamere, is there anybody there, said the traveler, knocking on the moonlit door, and his horse in the silence champed the grasses of the forests for any floor,
and a bird flew up out of the turret above the traveler's head, and he smote upon the door.
“Again, a second time, is there anybody there, he said?”
But no one descended to the traveler. No head from the leaf-fringeed sail leaned over and looked into his gray eyes where he stood, perplexed, and still. But only a host of phantom listeners
that dwelt in the lone house then stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight to that voice from the world of men. stood thronging the faint moon beams on the dark stair that goes down to the empty hall,
harkening in an air stirred and shaken by the lonely traveler's call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, their stillness answering his cry while his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
beneath the starred and leafy sky. For he suddenly smote on the door, even louder and lifted his head, tell them I came and no one answered that I kept my word, he said.
Never the least stir-up made the listeners,
though every word he's spake fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house from the one man left awake. I they heard his foot upon the stir-up and the sound of iron on stone
and how the silence surged softly backward, when the plunging hoofs were gone. That was the listeners by Waterdale Amir, will also put the poem text up on the portrayant on website so you can read it there.
It's in the public domain. I love this poem. The drama of the music of it and the sound,
“who are the listeners and why was this man so compelled?”
Tell them I came, he said, like, what was it that drove him to have to make this pilgrimage, this declaration? It's almost like he's bearing witness to something that he has to say, I spoke it aloud.
It's one of the things I think that the poem knows is that there's things else that we need to speak aloud, even to the dead.
I always want to know how to the horses feel.
Ever since I learned this poem, I have been particularly interested in the horses. They're mentioned a few times his horse in the silence chumped the grasses of the forests for any floor at delicious eliteration FF.
But there's something about the horses that makes me wonder, I can hear them, I can feel them, I wonder where they anxious, where they were and was Walter Dilemer,
“depicting them in such a particular way.”
When I was seven, I heard my older sister on year learning this poem off by her for school and I was so transfixed by hearing her say it aloud. And I couldn't wait until I was 11, so I could learn it too. And I would read it every few months in anticipation.
But probably says a lot about the kind of child I was. Anyway, thank you for joining me in all these seasons of Poetry and Bound, you can go back and listen from the start. Some people tell me that they just put it on shuffle and listen to them in any kind of order.
It is a thrill to hear and meet so many people who have deepened their love of poetry in the community of Poetry and Bound. There's plenty of material coming from Poetry and Bound and on being over the next number of months.
Christa has a new season of on being with Christa Tippet out at the moment. There's great discussions with the poets to a hardjo and Tracy Case Smith and the neuroscientist Goldilin
and philosopher Rabbi Scheiheld also. And then, late spring and early summer, I'll share a host of Poetry and Bound in conversation episodes that have been recorded over the last couple of years at public events.
There'll be Fatty Judah and Halil Isaac of Furi
and Adrian Riteke at name just a few.
“There'll be a new season of Poetry and Bound”
in the autumn time this year. You can keep up to date with everything about Poetry and Bound through the sub-stack of share events and news. And there's a bit of poetry shared every week
on Sunday morning as well as a question for the readers and then people respond in the comments. Thanks to everybody involved in Poetry and Bound, the whole list comes up after this. Thanks to Walter Dylan Mayer and the public domain
that host his son and the text of his poem thanks to his listeners, his traveler, the birds and the horse in that great poem. Thanks to my older sister for learning it off by heart. Out loud also when I was younger,
it set something off that kept me alive for years and still keeps me alive. Thanks friends.
“I look forward to continued engagements with you.”
Poetry and Bound is Andrea Prevole, Carlisthenoni, Daro Chen, Sparamari, Chris Hegel, Bill Sigmund and me, Padrik Altuma. Our music is composed and provided by Gautam Shrikishan and Blue Dotsetians.
These episodes were made in New York City on Unceded La Napeland. Special thanks to Will Sourwen, Neyvian and Adam Morelle at Digital Island Studios in Manhattan. Thanks as well to Fredrik Kortwright
of the Permissions Company. Poetry and Bound is an independent, non-profit production of the Unbeing Project, founded and led by Christopher. Poetry and Bound is made possible by a grant
from the Henry loose foundation.
“Our other funding partners include the Leana Foundation,”
the Bideal Foundation, and Engaging the Census Foundation. Poetry and Bound would be nothing without the listening community. Thanks to all who listen, who read, and give through our weekly Poetry and Bound Substack,
or directly to Unbeing. For links to the Substack, and to find out more about Poetry and Bound Books and Events, visit Poetry and Bound.org. The listeners, by Walter Delamare.
Is there anybody there, so the traveler, knocking on the moonlit door, and his horse in the silence champed the grasses of the forests for any floor, and a bird flew up out of the turret, above the traveler's head, and he smote
upon the door again a second time.
Is there anybody there? He said, "But no one descended to the traveler. "No head from the leaf-frianged seal, leaned over, "and looked into his gray eyes where he stood, "preplexed and still.
"But only a host of phantom listeners "that dwelt in the lone house then stood listening "in the quiet of the moonlit, to that voice from the world of men. "Stood thronging, the faint moonbeams on the dark stare "that goes down to the empty hall,
"harkening in an air stirred and shaken "by the lonely traveler's call. "And he felt, in his heart, their strangeness, "there's stillness, answering his cry, "while his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
"need the start and leafy sky. "For he suddenly smote on the door, "even louder and lifted his head, "tell them I came and no one answered "that I kept my word," he said.
"Never the least stir-and-made the listeners,
"though every word he spake felt echoing "through the shadowiness of the still house "from the one man left awake, "I they heard his foot upon the stir-up, "and the sound of iron on stone,
"and how the silence surged softly backward, "when the plunging hoofs were gone. "That was the listeners by Walter Delamer, "the poem is in the public domain. "Thanks to the public domain for hosting the poem."
