70
likes
6
comments
daily view 0
monthly view 0

Share

Live Analytics

Comments 0

Poetry: Four Quartets - "Burnt Norton" by T. S. Eliot (read by Sir Alec Guinness) Analytics Table

Income Estimates for Poetry: Four Quartets - "Burnt Norton" by T. S. Eliot (read by Sir Alec Guinness)

Based on this YouTube video's total view count of 5.19K views and industry-standard rates, the estimated total earning is $4 - $10 through ad revenue. Historical data is not yet available to calculate daily, weekly, or monthly averages.

About Poetry: Four Quartets - "Burnt Norton" by T. S. Eliot (read by Sir Alec Guinness)

Explore Poetry: Four Quartets - "Burnt Norton" by T. S. Eliot (read by Sir Alec Guinness) with 5,195 views, 70 likes, and 6 comments. Experience the impact of this video content that has captured audience attention.

Four Quartets: "Burnt Norton" by T. S. Eliot I Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. But to what purpose Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves I do not know. Other echoes Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow? Quick, said the bird, find them, find them, Round the corner. Through the first gate, Into our first world, shall we follow The deception of the thrush? Into our first world. There they were, dignified, invisible, Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves, In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air, And the bird called, in response to The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery, And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses Had the look of flowers that are looked at. There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting. So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern, Along the empty alley, into the box circle, To look down into the drained pool. Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged, And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight, And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly, The surface glittered out of heart of light, And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty. Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children, Hidden excitedly, containing laughter. Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind Cannot bear very much reality. Time past and time future What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. II Garlic and sapphires in the mud Clot the bedded axle-tree. The trilling wire in the blood Sings below inveterate scars Appeasing long forgotten wars. The dance along the artery The circulation of the lymph Are figured in the drift of stars Ascend to summer in the tree We move above the moving tree In light upon the figured leaf And hear upon the sodden floor Below, the boarhound and the boar Pursue their pattern as before But reconciled among the stars. At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance. I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where. And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time. The inner freedom from the practical desire, The release from action and suffering, release from the inner And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving, Erhebung without motion, concentration Without elimination, both a new world And the old made explicit, understood In the completion of its partial ecstasy, The resolution of its partial horror. Yet the enchainment of past and future Woven in the weakness of the changing body, Protects mankind from heaven and damnation Which flesh cannot endure. Time past and time future Allow but a little consciousness. To be conscious is not to be in time But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden, The moment in the arbour where the rain beat, The moment in the draughty church at smokefall Be remembered; involved with past and future. Only through time time is conquered. ... ... ... Full poem: https://www.fadedpage.com/books/20191242/html.php#chap01 Source: T. S. Eliot - Alec Guinness – British Poets Of Our Time (1975) ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ DISCLAIMER: This is a non-monetized channel. Absolutely no copyright infringement intended. I created/edited this video for entertainment purpose only. I do not own nor claim to own anything in this video. The videos/audios/photos are property of their rightful owners. All credit goes to the owners of all the materials used in this video. * ৳৸ᵃᵑᵏ Ꮍ৹੫ᵎ * #poetry #poem #actorsreadingpoetry

About YouTube Real-Time View Count

With SocialCounts.org’s view counter, track your YouTube video’s live view count and YouTube likes count in real time with fast, reliable updates.

Watch every YouTube video live view count rise with our real-time YouTube views tracker—built for accuracy and minimal delay.

Follow YouTube real time views as they happen, using our dedicated view counter for YouTube videos.

Get up-to-date live view count on YouTube and see real-time growth with SocialCounts.org’s smart tracking tools.

Embed Widget

Parameters:

  • fullscreen=true - Fullscreen counter
  • graph=true - Live graph chart
  • counter=0/1/2 - Select counter (0=likes, 1=views, 2=comments)
URL

Click to copy the embed URL to your clipboard