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

Today is January 23, 2020. And the poem that I'm going to read today is by an American poet

named Trumbull Stickney. The poem was called Nemostheny. And I'm going to read it once, as usual,

offer a few comments with the help of Harold Bloom,

whose collection I am reading this from.

I'm reading it from the famous collection, the best poems of the English language,

and then, as usual, I'll read it again.

This is how it goes.

It's autumn in the country I remember.

How warm a wind blew here about the ways, and shadows on the hillside lay to slumber during

the long sun-sweetened summer days.

It's cold, abroad the country I remember.

The swallows veering, skimmed the golden grain at midday with a wing, a slant, and limber,

and yellow cattle browsed upon the plain.

It's empty down the country, I remember.

I had a sister lovely in my sight.

Her hair was dark.

Her eyes were very somber.

We sang together in the woods at night.

It's lonely in the country I remember.

The babble of our children fills my ears, and on our hearth I stare the perished ember to flames that show all star through my tears.

It's dark about the country I remember.

...