The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest,— It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: ‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The thronèd monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The... Read more »
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight To me did seem Apparell’d in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it has been of yore;— Turn wheresoe’er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen... Read more »
Tenderly she would take them down and fold the arms in and fold again where my back should go until she made a small tight square of my chest, a knot of socks where my feet blossomed into toes, a stack of denim from the waist down, my panties strictly packed into the size of... Read more »
He waits by the quiet street, His cane, his fingers, And his listening face Trembling, not out of fear But alert with wonder At what lies just beyond The end of what he is And all he remembers As now he steps forward Into his near future As deliberately as a spider Scuttling from stone... Read more »
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee... Read more »
He strolls down the middle of the sidewalk leaving little room for me. I lag behind to get around an open gate, to avoid a fence post, a mailbox sticking out. You don’t walk as fast as you used to, he says, striding ahead on his personal red carpet, feet turned slightly out, a spring... Read more »