Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Clean out the house for springtime. Sweep the floor 

in patience and in conscientiousness.  

Let in the wind that’s hammering at the door. 

Who knows, some day we’ll hammer out a cure 

for cruelty, corruption, cowardice, 

clean out the house for springtime, sweep the floor. 

Create a pattern, not caricature 

of natural justice, without prejudice, 

let in the wind that’s hammering at the door. 

But human suffering? Don’t be so sure. 

In practice every theory goes amiss. 

Clean out the house for springtime. Sweep the floor. 

We go the way the flies go. Dust, manure 

or ashes will be all that’s left of us. 

Let in the wind that’s hammering at the door. 

We can trust nothing, nowhere rest secure 

except in love, for love is limitless. 

Clean out the house for springtime. Sweep the floor. 

Let in the wind that’s hammering at the door.