The Concise Verse

How strange that grass should sing— Grass is so still a thing . . . And strange the swift surprise of snow So soft it falls and slow.

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts...

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.

Lo, the unbounded sea, On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even her moonsails. The pennant is flying aloft as she speeds she speeds so stately- below emulous waves press forward, They surround the ship with shining curving motions and foam.

He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.   The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Stars over snow, And in the west a planet Swinging below a star— Look for a lovely thing and you will find it, It is not far— It will never be far.  

Some things that fly there be, — Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be, — Grief, hills, eternity: Nor this behooveth me. There are, that resting, rise. Can I expound the skies? How still the riddle lies!

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...