The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change in mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
“Dust of Snow” by Robert Frost [w/ Audio]
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Tag Archives: Audio Recording
“Love’s Philosophy” by Percy Bysshe Shelley [w/ Audio]
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine? --
See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
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“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers” (254) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
"Hope" is the thing with feathers --
That perches in the soul --
And sings the tune without the words --
And never stops -- at all --
And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --
I've heard it in the chillest land --
And on the strangest Sea --
Yet -- never -- in Extremity,
It asked a crumb -- of me.
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“Fluid” [Poetry Style #24] by Sikong Tu [w/ Audio]
Like water spilling over rocks?
Like a bead's roll across the floor?
Cliches, they fail to tell the story,
As no doll shows life's splendor.
But the Earth' unsupported spin through space,
As the heaven's pivot and sprawl for more...
If you could find how it all began,
You'd see it'll be as it was before.
The high and bright realm of the gods
Returns to nothing and nevermore.
And if you lived ten-thousand years,
You might find yourself in days of yore.
NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the twenty-fourth of the twenty-four poems. This poem has been alternately titled “The Flowing Style,” “Fluid,” “Motion,” etc. by varied translators from its Chinese title of 流动.
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“The Knight’s Tomb” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge [w/ Audio]
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be? --
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone, -- and the birch in its stead has grown. --
The Knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust; --
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
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“A Coat” by William Butler Yeats [w/ Audio]
I made my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But the fools caught it,
Wore it in the world's eyes
As though they'd wrought it.
Song, let them take it
For there's more enterprise
In walking naked.
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Sonnet 24 by William Shakespeare [w/ Audio]
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best the painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill
To find where your true image pictur'd lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, wherethrough the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee.
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
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“Goose Chant” by Luo Binwang [w/ Audio]
Goose, Goose, Goose,
Look skyward and let your song loose.
White feathers float on the green lake
As red feet paddle through clear waves.
NOTE: This poem’s title is often translated as “An Ode to the Goose” but the Chinese title 咏鹅 (Yǒng é) is “Chant[ing] Goose.”
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“A Burnt Ship” by John Donne [w/ Audio]
Out of a fired ship, which by no way
But drowning could be rescued from the flame,
Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came
Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;
So all were lost, which in the ship were found,
They in the sea being burnt,
They in the burnt ship drown'd.
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“Feeling for the Farmers” by Li Shen [w/ Audio]
Hoeing farmer, as heat haze roils,
His flowing sweat waters the soil.
All those who know food on a plate
Should feel each grain comes of that toil.
NOTE: The title of this poem (悯农, or Mǐn Nóng) is often translated as “Toiling Farmers,” though “Compassion for Farmers” or “Pity Farmers” would be closer to the literal translation.
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