Sir Walter Raleigh's "The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd"

The Daily Poem

Goldberry Studios

Education For Kids, Arts, Kids & Family

4.6 • 729 Ratings

🗓️ 1 October 2020

⏱️ 7 minutes

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Summary

Sir Walter Raleigh, Raleigh also spelled Ralegh, (born 1554?, Hayes Barton, near Budleigh Salterton, Devon, England—died October 29, 1618, London), English adventurer and writer, a favourite of Queen Elizabeth I, who knighted him in 1585. Accused of treason by Elizabeth’s successor, James I, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London and eventually put to death. --bio via Britannica.com

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0:00.0	Hello and welcome to the Daily Poem. I'm Heidi White, filling in for David Kern, and today is
0:05.9	Thursday, October 1st. And today I'm going to read for you a poem by Sir Walter Raleigh.
0:13.6	He was born in about 1554. We're not exactly sure what year, but that's about right. And he lived
0:19.4	until 1618. And so his exciting life and
0:24.0	career spanned the reign of Queen Elizabeth and then also of King James I. So he lived in a very
0:30.3	exciting time in English history and he lived a really brilliant life. He was known at the time as a
0:36.3	military, political and diplomatic genius and also an advent life. He was known at the time as a military, political, and diplomatic
0:38.5	genius, and also an adventurer. He sailed in ships and did a lot of exploring when it was
0:44.1	part of English culture to go to the new world if you were an important kind of person. He was also a
0:51.6	writer. He wrote history and poetry and was a very good poet. And today I'm going to
0:56.2	read for you a poem called The Nymphs Reply to the Shepherd. This is how it goes. If all the world
1:04.0	and love were young and truth in every shepherd's tongue, these pretty pleasures might me move, to live with me and be thy love.
1:13.9	But time drives flocks from field to fold, when rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
1:20.2	and philomel becomeeth dumb, the rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade in wanton fields to wayward winter reckoning yields,
1:31.8	a honey tongue, a heart of gall, and fancies spring, but sorrows fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes,
1:39.7	thy beds of roses, thy cap, thy cartel, and thy posies, soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
1:48.4	and folly ripe, and season rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, thy coral clasps and
1:56.0	amber studs, all these in me no means can move to come to thee and be thy love. But could youth last
2:04.0	and love still breed, had joys no date nor age no need? Then these delights my mind might move
2:12.0	to live with thee and be thy love. If you are a regular listener to the daily poem,
2:21.2	you might recognize some references in the poem I just read
2:23.9	to the one I read yesterday by Christopher Marlowe
	...

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