The Literature Observer

Episode 5: "Spring, the Sweet Spring" by Thomas Nashe

James celebrates the passing of one season to the next with a poem, "Spring, the sweet spring". As he notes in the introduction of the episode, the audio was recorded live and unscripted, so there are imperfections. Live recording, however, ensures that all of the thoughts you hear are created on-the-spot, which is a fun way of peering into the soul based off of what it chooses to focus on.  Here is the poem: Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king, Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:       Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:       Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet:       Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!             Spring, the sweet spring!

Episode 4: "The Lamb" by William Blake

James analyzes one of William Blake's poems, The Lamb. He thinks about the complex topics in the poem and how they are represented as simple questions with accompanying answers. It's odd that he should review a lesser-known poem written by William Blake, considering that The Tyger is much more famous. Here is the poem: Little Lamb who made thee           Dost thou know who made thee  Gave thee life & bid thee feed.  By the stream & o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing wooly bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice!           Little Lamb who made thee           Dost thou know who made thee           Little Lamb I'll tell thee,          Little Lamb I'll tell thee! He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb:  He is meek & he is mild,  He became a little child:  I a child & thou a lamb,  We are called by his name.          Little Lamb God bless thee.           Little Lamb God bless thee. And here is a link to the William Blake Archive to view his engraving of The Lamb: https://www.blakearchive.org/copy/s-inn.b?descId=s-inn.b.illbk.29

Episode 3.5: Various Poems

In this episode, James reviews four very short, fun poems (because poetry is meant to express and entertain, not bore) which benefit from being seen in words on top of being heard: Untitled  By Muhammad Ali Me. We. On Going to Meet a Zen Master in the Kyushu Mountains and Not Finding Him to A.G. By Don Patterson Poem Recognizing Someone In The Street By Aram Saroyan                        ey?h                        e?he                        Hey! Lines on the Antiquity of Microbes, or Fleas By Strickland Gillilan)     Adam     Had ’em

Episode 3: "Sometimes I Risk" with Guest Derek Sheffield

James interviews the current Washington State Poet Laureate Derek Sheffield and analyzes one of his poems! Like most poems, Sometimes I Risk benefits from reading along, so a copy is included in the description, or you could navigate onto Derek's website. Sometimes I Risk combines humor with contemplation, highlights the feeling of cherishing memories, and reminds readers of the many times they found their parent peering at them through the rear-view mirror while driving.

Episode 2: "Sonnet 30" by William Shakespeare

In this podcast episode, James analyzes Shakespeare's Sonnet 30. He conquers three different interpretations of the poem in a slightly confusing, but resolving way (kind of like how the poem navigates the narrator's emotion). Please excuse the fact that his voice was corrupted by sickness at the time of recording! Here is the poem if you would like to read along: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight; Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.