tom hiddleston reading poetry

The Princess: Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal
Alfred Lord Tennyson | Read by Tom Hiddleston
The Princess: Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal


The Princess: Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal (Tennyson) | Tom Hiddleston

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font.
The firefly wakens; waken thou with me.

Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake.
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

the awful thing about being in love with someone who is not traditionally attractive or way older than you is you can’t tell hardly anyone else about your crush in fear you’ll be judged for it

Desiderata
Max Ehrmann
Desiderata

“Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.”

May I Feel Said He
Tom Hiddleston
May I Feel Said He

Ben reads more books (oh, his Casanova!)  than poetry whilst Tom reads quite a lot of poetry and no one but no one has read this poem by Cummings quite like Tom. 

may i feel said he

by e e cummings

may i feel said he
(i’ll squeal said she
just once said he)
it’s fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let’s go said he
not too far said she
what’s too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you’re willing said he
(but you’re killing said she

but it’s life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don’t stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you’re divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)

Here’s your friendly reminder to remember to breathe. You may wish to go have a lie down too.

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Wish Tom Hiddleston would read you love poetry? Prepare to swoon. 

SONNET 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? 

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: 

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; 

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; 

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

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Tom Hiddleston reading Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18

We'll Go No More A Roving - Lord Byron
Tom Hiddleston
We'll Go No More A Roving - Lord Byron
So, we’ll go no more a roving    So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving,    And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath,    And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe,    And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,    And the day returns too soon, Yet we’ll go no more a roving    By the light of the moon.
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Gird your loins. Tom Hiddleston reads John Keats' Bright Star.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

         Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

         Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

         Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

“I love poetry, and I love poetry about love…all of the trimmings have been stripped away, and really great poets have got to the heart of the matter by using very, very few, brilliant words, to make you feel something, which, for most people, is inexpressible.” –Tom Hiddleston

[when askedwhy he wanted to read on The Love Book app]

Image| quote submitted by Moony hiddles-is-my-muse|