The Concise Verse

I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of  human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, a...

The ghost of a wind came over the hill,     While day for a moment forgot to die,     And stirred the sheaves     Of the millet leaves,     As Nancibel went by.      Out of the lands of Long Ago,     Into the land of By and By,     Faded the gleam     Of a journeying dream,     As Nancibel went by.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough.

By the time you swear you're his, Shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is Infinite, undying— Lady, make a note of this: One of you is lying.

My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light!

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies' skirts across the grass— O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid.

The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep; A harvest mouse goes scampering by,...

Hello and Welcome!  My name is John, and this is The Concise Verse, a podcast for people who love poetry but don't always have time for it.  In each episode we'll bring you a single, beautiful poem.  No commentary, no analysis, just the verse itself, read with care and respect. Each poem will be around a minute or less.  A perfect dose of art for your commute, your coffee break, or whenever you ne...