My LibriVox recordings & my reading journal (solo Litblog).

Echoes Of Love’s House by William Morris

LibriVox logoLibriVox volunteers bring you 11 recordings of Echoes of Love’s House by William Morris (1834-1896). This was the Weekly Poetry project for January 9th – January 16th, 2011.

William Morris was an English textile designer, artist, writer, and socialist associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and the English Arts and Crafts Movement. Morris wrote and published poetry, fiction, and translations of ancient and medieval texts throughout his life.

Today, Morris’s poetry is little-read. His fantasy romances languished out of print for decades until their rediscovery amid the great fantasy revival of the late 1960s following the phenomenal success of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. But his textile and wallpaper designs remain a staple of the Arts and Crafts Revival of the turn of the 21st century, and the reproduction of Morris designs as fabric, wrapping paper, and craft kits of all sorts is testament to the enduring appeal of his work. The William Morris Societies in Britain, the US, and Canada are active in preserving Morris’s work and ideas.

NOTE:- I have not recorded for this project, please download the entire book to listen to this poem by other Librivox’ers. Thanks.

Download locations: not available

Catalogue pages: LibriVox, Internet Archive.
Zip of the entire book (7.8MB@64kb), featuring all the different readers for this project.

Echoes Of Love’s House
Love gives every gift whereby we long to live
“Love takes every gift, and nothing back doth give.”

Love unlocks the lips that else were ever dumb:
“Love locks up the lips whence all things good might come.”

Love makes clear the eyes that else would never see:
“Love makes blind the eyes to all but me and thee.”

Love turns life to joy till nought is left to gain:
“Love turns life to woe till hope is nought and vain.”

Love, who changest all, change me nevermore!
“Love, who changest all, change my sorrow sore!”

Love burns up the world to changeless heaven and blest,
“Love burns up the world to a void of all unrest.”

And there we twain are left, and no more work we need:
“And I am left alone, and who my work shall heed?”

Ah! I praise thee, Love, for utter joyance won!
“And is my praise nought worth for all my life undone?”

This week’s poem can be found here.


Author: raven

Anonymous ;-)

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