Welcome back to the Daily Poem here on the Close Streets Podcast Network. I'm David Kern.

Today's poem is by request. I got a number of requests on Facebook for some poems, and so over the next few weeks, I'm going to turn to some of those poems that were requested, including today's. And today's poem, by request, is by

Alfred Lord Tennyson. He was a British poet who lived from 1809 to 1892. He was the poet laureate

of Great Britain and Ireland during a lot of Queen Victoria's reign. And even to this day is a quite

popular poet. The poem that I'm going to read today is called Ulysses.

It's a blank verse poem.

I'll talk about that in a second, if we have time.

This is not the shortest poem that I've ever done on this show.

So I'm going to go ahead and just get to it,

and we'll see if I have any time for comments.

This is how it goes.

It's little prophets that an idle king by this still hearth among these barren crags matched with an aged wife, I meet and dull unequal laws unto a savage race that hoard and sleep

and feed and no not me. I cannot rest from

travel. I will drink life to the leaves. All times I have enjoyed greatly, have suffered greatly,

both with those that loved me and alone on shore and went through scudding drifts the rainy hiades vexed the dim sea.

I am become a name.

For always roaming with a hungry heart, much have I seen and known.

Cities of men and manners, climates, councils, governments,

myself not least, but honored of them all,

and drunk delight of battle with my peers, far on the ringing plains of Windy Troy.

I am a part of all that I have met, yet all experience is an arch where it through gleams

that untraveled world whose margin fades forever and forever

...