Category Archives: Audio

“A Shropshire Lad XXXVI” by A. E. Housman [w/ Audio]

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White in the moon the long road lies,
   The moon stands blank above;
 White in the moon the long road lies
   That leads me from my love.

Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
   Still, still the shadows stay:
 My feet upon the moonlit dust
   Pursue the ceaseless way.

The world is round, so travellers tell,
   And straight though reach the track,
 Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,
   The way will guide one back.

But ere the circle homeward hies,
   Far, far must it remove:
 White in the moon the long road lies
   That leads me from my love.

NOTE: This poem is sometimes titled by its first line or an abbreviated form, thereof. So, it’s sometimes called: “White in the Moon the Long Road Lies.”

“First Fig” by Edna St. Vincent Millay [w/ Audio]

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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!

“In the Desert” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]

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In the desert
 I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
 Who, squatting upon the ground,
 Held his heart in his hands,
 And ate of it.
 I said, "Is it good, friend?"
 "It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;

"But I like it
 "Because it is bitter,
 "And because it is my heart."

“West River Moon” by Su Shi [w/ Audio]

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Wavelet on wavelet glimmers by the shore;
 Cloud on cloud dimly appears in the sky.
 Unsaddled is my white-jadelike horse;
 Drunk, asleep in the sweet grass I'll lie.
 My horse's hoofs may break, I'm afraid,
 The breeze-rippled brook paved by moonlit jade.
 I tether my horse to a bough of green willow.
 Near the bridge where I pillow
 My head on arms and sleep till the cuckoo's song awakes
  A spring daybreak.

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p. 238

Four Seasonal Haiku of Yosa Buson [w/ Audio]

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SPRING*

The spring sea;
 gently, quietly, 
 all day long.

SUMMER

what a joy!
 wading through summer rivers,
 sandals in hand.

AUTUMN

vacant teahouse,
 atop the mountain:
 a harvest moon.

WINTER

neighbors detest me
 for my whistling kettle:
 a cold winter night.

* Translation by: Wilson, William Scott. 2023. A Beginner’s Guide to Japanese Haiku. Tuttle Publishing: North Clarendon, VT.

“Jerusalem” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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And did those feet in ancient time
 Walk upon England's mountains green?
 And was the holy Lamb of God
 On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine
 Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
 And was Jerusalem builded here
 Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
 Bring me my Arrows of desire:
 Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
 Bring me Chariot of fire.

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
 Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
 Till we have built Jerusalem
 In England's green and pleasant Land.

“The Gardener – 85” by Rabindranath Tagore [w/ Audio]

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Who are you, reader, reading my poems my poems an hundred years hence?
 I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, 
  one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
 Open your doors and look abroad.

From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories 
  of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
 In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning,
  sending its glad voice across an hundred years.

“On His Blindness” by John Milton [w/ Audio]

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When I consider how my light is spent,
 Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
 And that one Talent which is death to hide
 Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
 To serve therewith my Maker, and present
 My true account, lest he returning chide,
 "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
 I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
 That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
 Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His State
 Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
 And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest:
 They also serve who only stand and wait."

NOTE: This poem is sometimes called “Sonnet 19,” sometimes “On His Blindness,” and sometimes “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent.”

“Rooms” by Charlotte Mew [w/ Audio]

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I remember rooms that have had their part
  In the steady slowing down of the heart.
 The room in Paris, the room at Geneva,
 The little damp room with the seaweed smell,
 And that ceaseless maddening sound of the tide --
  Rooms where for good or for ill -- things died.
 But there is the room where we (two) lie dead,
 Though every morning we seem to wake and might just as well seem to sleep again
  As we shall somewhere in the other quieter, dustier bed
  Out there in the sun -- in the rain.

“Curtain” by Paul Laurence Dunbar [w/ Audio]

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Villain shows his indiscretion,
 Villain's partner makes confession.
 Juvenile, with golden tresses,
 Finds her pa and dons long dresses.
 Scapegrace comes home money-laden,
 Hero comforts tearful maiden,
 Soubrette marries loyal chappie,
 Villain skips, and all are happy.