<description>&lt;p&gt;The Soap Opera was created by &lt;a href="https://twitter.com/swheatpodcasts" rel="nofollow"&gt;Dallas Wheatley&lt;/a&gt;. If you liked what you heard, please rate and review the show in &lt;a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/id1459899202" rel="nofollow"&gt;Apple Podcasts&lt;/a&gt;, or tell your friends and family about it! Spreading the word makes all the difference. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Many thanks to Kevin MacLeod at &lt;a href="https://incompetech.com" rel="nofollow"&gt;incompetech.com&lt;/a&gt; for the music (Licensed under Creative Commons 4.0). The tracks used in this episode are "Ripples", "Overheat", "River Flute", and "Finding Movement". &lt;/p&gt; &lt;hr&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Performers&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/MonkeymanProd" rel="nofollow"&gt;DJ Sylvis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/starplanes" rel="nofollow"&gt;Tal Minear&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt; &lt;hr&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thought and Space&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;By Ray Bradbury&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Performed by DJ Sylvis&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Space—thy boundaries are&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Time and time alone.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;No earth-born rocket,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;seedling skyward sown,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Will ever reach your cold,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;infinite end,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This power is not Man's to&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;build or send.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Great deities laugh down,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;venting their mirth,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;At struggling bipeds on&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;a cloud-wrapped Earth,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Chained solid on a war-swept,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;waning globe,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;For FATE, who witnesses,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;to pry and probe.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;BUT LIST! One weapon have&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I stronger yet!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Prepare Infinity! And&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Gods regret!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Thought, quick as light,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;shall pierce the veil,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To reach the lost beginnings&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Holy Grail.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Across the sullen void on&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;soundless trail,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Where new spawned suns and&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;chilling planets wail,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;One thought shall travel&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;midst the gods' playthings,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Past cindered globes where&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;choking flame still sings.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;No wall of force yet have ye&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;firmly wrought,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;That chains the supreme&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;strength of purest thought.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Unleashed, without a body's&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;slacking hold,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Thought leaves the ancient&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Earth behind to mold.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And when the galaxies have&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;heeded DEATH,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And welcomed lastly SPACE'S&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;poisoned breath,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Still shall thought travel&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;as an arrow flown.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;SPACE—thy boundaries are&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;TIME——AND TIME ALONE!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;hr&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;By Robert Frost&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Performed by Tal Minear&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Whose woods these are I think I know.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;His house is in the village though;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;He will not see me stopping here&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To watch his woods fill up with snow.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My little horse must think it queer&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To stop without a farmhouse near&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Between the woods and frozen lake&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The darkest evening of the year.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;He gives his harness bells a shake&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To ask if there is some mistake.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The only other sound’s the sweep&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Of easy wind and downy flake.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The woods are lovely, dark and deep.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But I have promises to keep,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And miles to go before I sleep.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And miles to go before I sleep.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;hr&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Birches&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;By Robert Frost&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Performed by Tal Minear&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;When I see birches bend left to right&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Across the line of straighter darker trees,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;After a rain. They click upon themselves&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust –&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So low for so long, they never right themselves:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;You may see their trunks arching in the woods&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But I was going to say when Truth broke in&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I should prefer to have some boy bend them&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As he went out and in to fetch the cows –&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Whose only play was what he found himself,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Summer or winter, and could play alone.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;One by one he subdued his father’s trees&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;By riding them down over and over again&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Until he took the stiffness out of them,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And not one but hung limp, not one was left&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;For him to conquer. He learned all there was&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To learn about not launching out too soon&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And so not carrying the tree away&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;To the top branches, climbing carefully&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;With the same pains you use to fill a cup&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Up to the brim, and even above the brim.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So was I once myself a swinger of birches.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And so I dream of going back to be.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It’s when I’m weary of considerations,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And life is too much like a pathless wood&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Broken across it, and one eye is weeping&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;From a twig’s having lashed across it open.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I’d like to get away from earth awhile&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And then come back to it and begin over.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;May no fate willfully misunderstand me&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And half grant what I wish and snatch me away&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I don’t know where’ it’s likely to go better.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But dipped its top and set me down again.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;That would be good both going and coming back.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.&lt;/p&gt;</description>

The Soap Opera

Dallas Wheatley

Tales From the Public Domain: 1

APR 12, 20209 MIN
The Soap Opera

Tales From the Public Domain: 1

APR 12, 20209 MIN

Description

<p>The Soap Opera was created by <a href="https://twitter.com/swheatpodcasts" rel="nofollow">Dallas Wheatley</a>. If you liked what you heard, please rate and review the show in <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/id1459899202" rel="nofollow">Apple Podcasts</a>, or tell your friends and family about it! Spreading the word makes all the difference. </p> <p>Many thanks to Kevin MacLeod at <a href="https://incompetech.com" rel="nofollow">incompetech.com</a> for the music (Licensed under Creative Commons 4.0). The tracks used in this episode are "Ripples", "Overheat", "River Flute", and "Finding Movement". </p> <hr> <p><strong>Performers</strong></p> <ul> <li> <p><a href="https://twitter.com/MonkeymanProd" rel="nofollow">DJ Sylvis</a></p> </li> <li> <p><a href="https://twitter.com/starplanes" rel="nofollow">Tal Minear</a></p> </li> </ul> <hr> <p><strong>Thought and Space</strong></p> <p><em>By Ray Bradbury</em></p> <p><em>Performed by DJ Sylvis</em></p> <p>Space—thy boundaries are</p> <p>Time and time alone.</p> <p>No earth-born rocket,</p> <p>seedling skyward sown,</p> <p>Will ever reach your cold,</p> <p>infinite end,</p> <p>This power is not Man's to</p> <p>build or send.</p> <p>Great deities laugh down,</p> <p>venting their mirth,</p> <p>At struggling bipeds on</p> <p>a cloud-wrapped Earth,</p> <p>Chained solid on a war-swept,</p> <p>waning globe,</p> <p>For FATE, who witnesses,</p> <p>to pry and probe.</p> <p>BUT LIST! One weapon have</p> <p>I stronger yet!</p> <p>Prepare Infinity! And</p> <p>Gods regret!</p> <p>Thought, quick as light,</p> <p>shall pierce the veil,</p> <p>To reach the lost beginnings</p> <p>Holy Grail.</p> <p>Across the sullen void on</p> <p>soundless trail,</p> <p>Where new spawned suns and</p> <p>chilling planets wail,</p> <p>One thought shall travel</p> <p>midst the gods' playthings,</p> <p>Past cindered globes where</p> <p>choking flame still sings.</p> <p>No wall of force yet have ye</p> <p>firmly wrought,</p> <p>That chains the supreme</p> <p>strength of purest thought.</p> <p>Unleashed, without a body's</p> <p>slacking hold,</p> <p>Thought leaves the ancient</p> <p>Earth behind to mold.</p> <p>And when the galaxies have</p> <p>heeded DEATH,</p> <p>And welcomed lastly SPACE'S</p> <p>poisoned breath,</p> <p>Still shall thought travel</p> <p>as an arrow flown.</p> <p>SPACE—thy boundaries are</p> <p>TIME——AND TIME ALONE!</p> <hr> <p><strong>Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening</strong></p> <p><em>By Robert Frost</em></p> <p><em>Performed by Tal Minear</em></p> <p>Whose woods these are I think I know.</p> <p>His house is in the village though;</p> <p>He will not see me stopping here</p> <p>To watch his woods fill up with snow.</p> <p>My little horse must think it queer</p> <p>To stop without a farmhouse near</p> <p>Between the woods and frozen lake</p> <p>The darkest evening of the year.</p> <p>He gives his harness bells a shake</p> <p>To ask if there is some mistake.</p> <p>The only other sound’s the sweep</p> <p>Of easy wind and downy flake.</p> <p>The woods are lovely, dark and deep.</p> <p>But I have promises to keep,</p> <p>And miles to go before I sleep.</p> <p>And miles to go before I sleep.</p> <hr> <p><strong>Birches</strong></p> <p><em>By Robert Frost</em></p> <p><em>Performed by Tal Minear</em></p> <p>When I see birches bend left to right</p> <p>Across the line of straighter darker trees,</p> <p>I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.</p> <p>But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.</p> <p>Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them</p> <p>Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning</p> <p>After a rain. They click upon themselves</p> <p>As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored</p> <p>As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.</p> <p>Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells</p> <p>Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust –</p> <p>Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away</p> <p>You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.</p> <p>They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,</p> <p>And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed</p> <p>So low for so long, they never right themselves:</p> <p>You may see their trunks arching in the woods</p> <p>Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground</p> <p>Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair</p> <p>Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.</p> <p>But I was going to say when Truth broke in</p> <p>With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm</p> <p>I should prefer to have some boy bend them</p> <p>As he went out and in to fetch the cows –</p> <p>Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,</p> <p>Whose only play was what he found himself,</p> <p>Summer or winter, and could play alone.</p> <p>One by one he subdued his father’s trees</p> <p>By riding them down over and over again</p> <p>Until he took the stiffness out of them,</p> <p>And not one but hung limp, not one was left</p> <p>For him to conquer. He learned all there was</p> <p>To learn about not launching out too soon</p> <p>And so not carrying the tree away</p> <p>Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise</p> <p>To the top branches, climbing carefully</p> <p>With the same pains you use to fill a cup</p> <p>Up to the brim, and even above the brim.</p> <p>Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,</p> <p>Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.</p> <p>So was I once myself a swinger of birches.</p> <p>And so I dream of going back to be.</p> <p>It’s when I’m weary of considerations,</p> <p>And life is too much like a pathless wood</p> <p>Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs</p> <p>Broken across it, and one eye is weeping</p> <p>From a twig’s having lashed across it open.</p> <p>I’d like to get away from earth awhile</p> <p>And then come back to it and begin over.</p> <p>May no fate willfully misunderstand me</p> <p>And half grant what I wish and snatch me away</p> <p>Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:</p> <p>I don’t know where’ it’s likely to go better.</p> <p>I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,</p> <p>And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk</p> <p>Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,</p> <p>But dipped its top and set me down again.</p> <p>That would be good both going and coming back.</p> <p>One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.</p>