The Daily Poem

Today's poem is Edna Saint Vincent Millay's "God's World." O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!   Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!   Thy mists, that roll and rise!Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sagAnd all but cry with colour!   That gaunt cragTo crush!   To lift the lean of that black bluff!World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!Long have I known a glory in it all,         But never knew I this;         Here such a passion isAs stretcheth me apart,—Lord, I do fearThou’st made the world too beautiful this year;My soul is all but out of me,—let fallNo burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Robert Penn Warren's "Heart of Autumn." Remember: subscribe, rate, review! See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Scott Cairns' "Which Tribe, Which River?"Remember: subscribe, rate, review! See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Maurice Manning's "Thee Art of Poetry," from his great new collection, Railsplitter. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Robert Herrick's "Delight in Disorder." A sweet disorder in the dressKindles in clothes a wantonness;A lawn about the shoulders thrownInto a fine distraction;An erring lace, which here and thereEnthrals the crimson stomacher;A cuff neglectful, and therebyRibands to flow confusedly;A winning wave, deserving note,In the tempestuous petticoat;A careless shoe-string, in whose tieI see a wild civility:Do more bewitch me, than when artIs too precise in every part. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Phyllis McGinley's "November." Remember - rate, review, spread the word. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Thomas Hardy's "Last Week in October." The trees are undressing, and fling in many places—On the gray road, the roof, the window-sill—Their radiant robes and ribbons and yellow laces;A leaf each second so is flung at will,Here, there, another and another, still and still.A spider's web has caught one while downcoming,That stays there dangling when the rest pass on;Like a suspended criminal hangs he, mummingIn golden garb, while one yet green, high yon,Trembles, as fearing such a fate for himself anon. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Richard Wilbur's "October Maples, Portland." Remember: rate, review, spread the word. The leaves, though little time they have to live,Were never so unfallen as today,And seem to yield us through a rustled sieveThe very light from which time fell away.A showered fire we thought forever lostRedeems the air. Where friends in passing meet,They parley in the tongues of Pentecost.Gold ranks of temples flank the dazzled street.It is light of maples, and will go;But not before it washes eye and brainWith such a tincture, such a sanguine glowAs cannot fail to leave a lasting stain.So Mary’s laundered mantle (in the taleWhich, like all pretty tales, may still be true),Spread on the rosemary-bush, so drenched the paleSlight blooms in its irradiated hue,They could not choose but to return in blue. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Edith Wharton's "The Autumn Sunset." Remember: rate and review to spread the word. ILeaguered in fireThe wild black promontories of the coast extendTheir savage silhouettes;The sun in universal carnage sets,And, halting higher,The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats,Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned,That, balked, yet stands at bay.Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated dayIn wind-lustrated hollows crystalline,A wan Valkyrie whose wide pinions shineAcross the ensanguined ruins of the fray,And in her hand swings high o’erhead,Above the waster of war,The silver torch-light of the evening starWherewith to search the faces of the dead. IILagooned in gold,Seem not those jetty promontories ratherThe outposts of some ancient land forlorn,Uncomforted of morn,Where old oblivions gather,The melancholy unconsoling foldOf all things that go utterly to deathAnd mix no more, no moreWith life’s perpetually awakening breath?Shall Time not ferry me to such a shore,Over such sailless seas,To walk with hope’s slain importunitiesIn miserable marriage? Nay, shall notAll things be there forgot,Save the sea’s golden barrier and the blackClose-crouching promontories?Dead to all shames, forgotten of all glories,Shall I not wander there, a shadow’s shade,A spectre self-destroyed,So purged of all remembrance and sucked backInto the primal void,That should we on the shore phantasmal meetI should not know the coming of your feet? See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is R.S. Thomas' "Welsh Landscape". Remember: rate, review, subscribe. To live in Wales is to be consciousAt dusk of the spilled bloodThat went into the making of the wild sky,Dyeing the immaculate riversIn all their courses.It is to be aware,Above the noisy tractorAnd hum of the machineOf strife in the strung woods,Vibrant with sped arrows.You cannot live in the present,At least not in Wales.There is the language for instance,The soft consonantsStrange to the ear.There are cries in the dark at nightAs owls answer the moon,And thick ambush of shadows,Hushed at the fields’ corners.There is no present in Wales,And no future;There is only the past,Brittle with relics,Wind-bitten towers and castlesWith sham ghosts;Mouldering quarries and mines;And an impotent people,Sick with inbreeding,Worrying the carcase of an old song. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Julia Ward Howe's familiar refrain, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Remember: rate and review to help spread the word. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is by the great English poet, John Clare, and it's called "Badger." Remember, when you rate and review the show it helps out a lot! See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is from C.S. Lewis and is presented by our old friend, S.D. Smith. Remember: rate and review to spread the word! See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem is Lewis Carroll's "Mad Gardener's Song." Remember: You can help the show by rating and reviewing and spreading the word. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Today's poem -- with an assist from the late Harold Bloom -- is Jones Very's "New Birth." Remember: you can help the podcast out when you rate and review. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.