John Greenleaf Whittier's "The Changeling"

The Daily Poem

Goldberry Studios

Education For Kids, Arts, Kids & Family

4.6 • 729 Ratings

🗓️ 3 February 2020

⏱️ 8 minutes

🔗️ Recording | iTunes | RSS

🧾️ Download transcript

Summary

Today poem is John Greenleaf Whittier's ballad, "The Changeling."

Remember to rate and review the show wherever you get podcasts.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

Transcript

Click on a timestamp to play from that location

0:00.0	Welcome back to The Daily Poem here in the Close Reeds Podcast Network. I'm David Kern. Today is February 3rd, 2020. Can you believe it's February already? Here we are. And the poem that I'm going to read today is a ballad by John Greenleaf Whittier. He was an American poet who lived from 1807 to 1892. He was a Quaker, actually,
0:23.2	and was an advocate of the abolition of slavery and is considered one of the fireside poets,
0:29.4	who were a group of 19th century American poets associated with New England. The poem that
0:35.4	I'm going to read to you today is a little bit long, so I'm only going to read it once, but it's called The Changeling, and it is a ballad. And I'll offer a few
0:42.5	comments at the end, but because it's a couple pages long, although not long lines, but it takes
0:48.1	a little while to read a couple minutes. I will only read the one time, as I said. So, here we go.
0:53.6	John Greenleaf, Wittiers, the changeling.
0:57.5	For the fairest maid in Hampton, they needed not to search.
1:01.6	Who saw young Anna Favor come walking into church?
1:05.3	Or bringing from the meadows at set of harvest day, the frolic of the blackbirds,
1:10.1	the sweetness of the hay? Now the weariest of all mothers, the frolic of the blackbirds, the sweetness of the hay.
1:12.2	Now the weariest of all mothers, the saddest two-year's bride, she scowls in the face of her
1:16.8	husband and spurns her child aside. Rake out the red coals, Goodman, for there the child shall lie,
1:23.9	till the black witch comes to fetch her and both up chimney fly.
1:29.0	It's never my own little daughter, it's never my own, she said.
1:32.3	The witches have stolen my Anna and left me an imp instead.
1:35.7	Oh fair and sweet is my baby, blue eyes and hair of gold, but this is ugly and wrinkled,
1:40.8	cross and cunning and old.
1:43.3	I hate the touch of her fingers. I hate the feel of her
1:46.0	skin. It's not the milk from my bosom, but my blood that she sucks in. My face grows sharp with
1:52.5	torment. Look, my arms are skin and bone. Rake open the red coals, Goodman, and the witch shall
1:58.2	have her own. She'll come when she hears it crying in the shape
	...

Please login to see the full transcript.

Previous episode | Next episode

Disclaimer: The podcast and artwork embedded on this page are from Goldberry Studios, and are the property of its owner and not affiliated with or endorsed by Tapesearch.

Generated transcripts are the property of Goldberry Studios and are distributed freely under the Fair Use doctrine. Transcripts generated by Tapesearch are not guaranteed to be accurate.