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132 Videos  
page 1 / 7
     suivant
  "this is the night mail" - wh auden
in the documentary in the documentary in the documentary
  funeral blues w.h.auden
andreas schnermann, inga lühning, joachim król & band. live at andreas schnermann, inga lühning, joachim król & band. live at andreas schnermann, inga lühning, joachim król & band. live at
  wh auden "musee des beaux arts" poem ani...
heres a virtual movie of wh auden reading his much loved poem heres a virtual movie of wh auden reading his much loved poem heres a virtual movie of wh auden reading his much loved poem
  funeral blues w.h. auden
this is a poem written by w.h. auden (i first heard it in 4 weddings and a funeral). this is a poem written by w.h. auden (i first heard it in 4 weddings and a funeral). this is a poem written by w.h. auden (i first heard it in 4 weddings and a funeral).
  heath ledger - wh auden tribute
l knew when l remembered these words, l just had to use them in a tribute for heath. l tried to celebrate his life and works. nothing fancy but hey, it's a shot at it. the music l put underneath is moonlight by debussy, the words are from a poem by wh auden, l knew when l remembered these words, l just had to use them in a tribute for heath. l tried to celebrate his life and works. nothing fancy but hey, it's a shot at it. the music l put underneath is moonlight by debussy, the words are from a poem by wh auden, l knew when l remembered these words, l just had to use them in a tribute for heath. l tried to celebrate his life and works. nothing fancy but hey, it's a shot at it. the music l put underneath is moonlight by debussy, the words are from a poem by wh auden,
  w. h. auden - the unknown citizen
he was found by the bureau of statistics to be one against whom there was no official complaint, and all the reports on his conduct agree that, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, for in everything he did he served the greater community. except for the war till the day he retired he worked in a factory and never got fired, but satisfied his employers, fudge motors inc. yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, for his union reports that he paid his dues, (our report on his union shows it was sound) and our social psychology workers found that he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. the press are convinced that he bought a paper every day and that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, and his health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured. both producers research and high-grade living declare he was fully sensible to the advantages of the installment plan and had everything necessary to the modern man, a gramophone, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. our researchers into public opinion are content that he held the proper opinions for he time of year; when there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went. he was married and added five children to the population, which our eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation. and our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. was he free? was he happy? the question is absurd: had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard. he was found by the bureau of statistics to be one against whom there was no official complaint, and all the reports on his conduct agree that, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, for in everything he did he served the greater community. except for the war till the day he retired he worked in a factory and never got fired, but satisfied his employers, fudge motors inc. yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, for his union reports that he paid his dues, (our report on his union shows it was sound) and our social psychology workers found that he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. the press are convinced that he bought a paper every day and that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, and his health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured. both producers research and high-grade living declare he was fully sensible to the advantages of the installment plan and had everything necessary to the modern man, a gramophone, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. our researchers into public opinion are content that he held the proper opinions for he time of year; when there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went. he was married and added five children to the population, which our eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation. and our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. was he free? was he happy? the question is absurd: had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard. he was found by the bureau of statistics to be one against whom there was no official complaint, and all the reports on his conduct agree that, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, for in everything he did he served the greater community. except for the war till the day he retired he worked in a factory and never got fired, but satisfied his employers, fudge motors inc. yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, for his union reports that he paid his dues, (our report on his union shows it was sound) and our social psychology workers found that he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. the press are convinced that he bought a paper every day and that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, and his health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured. both producers research and high-grade living declare he was fully sensible to the advantages of the installment plan and had everything necessary to the modern man, a gramophone, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. our researchers into public opinion are content that he held the proper opinions for he time of year; when there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went. he was married and added five children to the population, which our eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation. and our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. was he free? was he happy? the question is absurd: had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
  funeral blues-4 weddings & a funeral (le...
poema de w.h.auden,por john hannah poema de w.h.auden,por john hannah poema de w.h.auden,por john hannah
  four weddings and a funeral - "funeral blues"
john hannah, playing matthew, reads wh auden's poem john hannah, playing matthew, reads wh auden's poem john hannah, playing matthew, reads wh auden's poem
  funeral blues w.h.auden tribute
young school kids performed lyrics...live!!! w.h.auden: funeral blues from the poetry compilation young school kids performed lyrics...live!!! w.h.auden: funeral blues from the poetry compilation young school kids performed lyrics...live!!! w.h.auden: funeral blues from the poetry compilation
  in memory of w.b. yeats by w.h. auden
(d. jan 1939) (d. jan 1939) (d. jan 1939)
  " lay your sleeping head, my love " - (...
________ music: beethoven's moonlight sonata mvt.1 opus 27 no. 2 - adagio sostenuto ________ ________ music: beethoven's moonlight sonata mvt.1 opus 27 no. 2 - adagio sostenuto ________ ________ music: beethoven's moonlight sonata mvt.1 opus 27 no. 2 - adagio sostenuto ________
  w. h. auden: o tell me the truth about love
w. h. auden: o tell me the truth about love w. h. auden: o tell me the truth about love w. h. auden: o tell me the truth about love
  "funeral blues" by w. h. auden
made famous by made famous by made famous by
  a tribute to w h auden
  poem a day - 7/16/08 - w.h. auden
i should preface this entry by saying that today's video almost didn't happen. i was immediately out of the house when i woke up this morning and have gotten back just in time to pick out a poem and do a reading of it. conversely, i could have done another haiku or a short lyric poem, but i really didn't have much writing time today. tomorrow there should be another full entry. i also selected this auden poem because it's one of my favorites. i was going to do a billy collins one, but chances are that i'm going to be doing another cover saturday and/or sunday because of a busy weekend, so keep an eye out for collins in the near future. this poem doesn't have an official title as far as i know, it's usually just called by the first line, like a lot of the dickinson poems are. anyway, here's the text. w.h. auden stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, silence the pianos and with muffled drum bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead scribbling on the sky the message he is dead, put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. he was my north, my south, my east and west, my working week and my sunday rest, my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; i thought that love would last for ever: i was wrong. the stars are not wanted now: put out every one; pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. for nothing now can ever come to any good. i was also looking to the side of the screen this time because that's where the text was on screen. i would have rerecorded it, but i had enough background noise in this one that i didn't want to risk having to do ten more takes. enjoy. i did not write this poem and cannot take any creative credit. all credit goes to w.h. auden. i would also like to thank my second subscriber for the comments and the subscription! also, everyone please subscribe, comment, rate, and share with friends! i should preface this entry by saying that today's video almost didn't happen. i was immediately out of the house when i woke up this morning and have gotten back just in time to pick out a poem and do a reading of it. conversely, i could have done another haiku or a short lyric poem, but i really didn't have much writing time today. tomorrow there should be another full entry. i also selected this auden poem because it's one of my favorites. i was going to do a billy collins one, but chances are that i'm going to be doing another cover saturday and/or sunday because of a busy weekend, so keep an eye out for collins in the near future. this poem doesn't have an official title as far as i know, it's usually just called by the first line, like a lot of the dickinson poems are. anyway, here's the text. w.h. auden stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, silence the pianos and with muffled drum bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead scribbling on the sky the message he is dead, put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. he was my north, my south, my east and west, my working week and my sunday rest, my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; i thought that love would last for ever: i was wrong. the stars are not wanted now: put out every one; pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. for nothing now can ever come to any good. i was also looking to the side of the screen this time because that's where the text was on screen. i would have rerecorded it, but i had enough background noise in this one that i didn't want to risk having to do ten more takes. enjoy. i did not write this poem and cannot take any creative credit. all credit goes to w.h. auden. i would also like to thank my second subscriber for the comments and the subscription! also, everyone please subscribe, comment, rate, and share with friends! i should preface this entry by saying that today's video almost didn't happen. i was immediately out of the house when i woke up this morning and have gotten back just in time to pick out a poem and do a reading of it. conversely, i could have done another haiku or a short lyric poem, but i really didn't have much writing time today. tomorrow there should be another full entry. i also selected this auden poem because it's one of my favorites. i was going to do a billy collins one, but chances are that i'm going to be doing another cover saturday and/or sunday because of a busy weekend, so keep an eye out for collins in the near future. this poem doesn't have an official title as far as i know, it's usually just called by the first line, like a lot of the dickinson poems are. anyway, here's the text. w.h. auden stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, silence the pianos and with muffled drum bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead scribbling on the sky the message he is dead, put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. he was my north, my south, my east and west, my working week and my sunday rest, my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; i thought that love would last for ever: i was wrong. the stars are not wanted now: put out every one; pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. for nothing now can ever come to any good. i was also looking to the side of the screen this time because that's where the text was on screen. i would have rerecorded it, but i had enough background noise in this one that i didn't want to risk having to do ten more takes. enjoy. i did not write this poem and cannot take any creative credit. all credit goes to w.h. auden. i would also like to thank my second subscriber for the comments and the subscription! also, everyone please subscribe, comment, rate, and share with friends!
  w. h. auden - under which lyre, commentary
part one: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xmp_klii_e0 [the poem] commentary on the poem under which lyre, by auden, looking at its relevance today and how it questions the meaning of art, education and life. no small task! http://members.wizzards.net/~mlworden/atyp/auden.htm part one: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xmp_klii_e0 [the poem] commentary on the poem under which lyre, by auden, looking at its relevance today and how it questions the meaning of art, education and life. no small task! http://members.wizzards.net/~mlworden/atyp/auden.htm part one: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xmp_klii_e0 [the poem] commentary on the poem under which lyre, by auden, looking at its relevance today and how it questions the meaning of art, education and life. no small task! http://members.wizzards.net/~mlworden/atyp/auden.htm
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