My Last Duchess by Robert Browning That’s my last Duchess painted on Looking as if she were alive. I c That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pan Worked busily a day, and there she Will’t please you sit and look at
Looking Forward by Robert Louis Stevenson When I am grown to man’s estate I shall be very proud and great, And tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys.
Mother and Poet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning Dead! One of them shot by the sea And one of them shot in the west b Dead! both my boys! When you sit And are wanting a great song for Let none look at me!
The Cry of the Children by Elizabeth Barrett Browning Do ye hear the children weeping, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in th
On the Lord General Fairfax at the Siege of Colchester by John Milton Fairfax, whose name in arms throug Filling each mouth with envy, or w And all her jealous monarchs with And rumours loud, that daunt remot Thy firm unshak’n virtue ever brin
Sweeney among the Nightingales by T. S. Eliot Apeneck Sweeney spread his knees Letting his arms hang down to laug The zebra stripes along his jaw Swelling to maculate giraffe. The circles of the stormy moon
To a Poor Old Woman by William Carlos Williams munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good 2
Concord Hymn by Ralph Waldo Emerson By the rude bridge that arched the Their flag to April’s breeze unfu Here once the embattled farmers st And fired the shot heard round the The foe long since in silence slep 1
Hamatreya by Ralph Waldo Emerson Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Possessed the land which rendered Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, appl Each of these landlords walked ami Saying, “’Tis mine, my children’s 1
Ode, Inscribed to William H. Channing by Ralph Waldo Emerson Though loath to grieve The evil time’s sole patriot, I cannot leave My honied thought For the priest’s cant,
Parks and Ponds by Ralph Waldo Emerson Parks and ponds are good by day; I do not delight In black acres of the night, Nor my unseasoned step disturbs The sleeps of trees or dreams of h
Water by Ralph Waldo Emerson The water understands Civilization well; It wets my foot, but prettily, It chills my life, but wittily, It is not disconcerted,
I, Too by Langston Hughes I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, 1
The Negro Speaks of Rivers by Langston Hughes I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w My soul has grown deep like the ri I bathed in the Euphrates when da I built my hut near the Congo and 1
Mother to Son by Langston Hughes Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, 5
Theme for English B by Langston Hughes Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple? 1 1
50-50 by Langston Hughes I’m all alone in this world, she s Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
Brass Spittoons by Langston Hughes Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach. 1
The Weary Blues by Langston Hughes Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni By the pale dull pallor of an old
It was a' for our Rightful King by Robert Burns It was a’ for our rightful king That we left fair Scotland’s stra It was a’ for our rightful king We e’er saw Irish land, My dear,
For a' That and a' That by Robert Burns Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
A Winter Night by Robert Burns When biting Boreas, fell and dour Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless b When Phoebus gies a short—liv’d g Far south the lift, Dim—dark’ning thro’ the flaky show
From Lines to William Simson by Robert Burns Auld Coila now may fidge fu’ fain She’s gotten poets o’ her ain— Chiels wha their chanters winna ha But tune their lays, Till echoes a’ resound again
Thoughtless Cruelty by Charles Lamb There, Robert, you have kill’d th And should you thousand ages try The life you’ve taken to supply, You could not do it. You surely must have been devoid
Molecular Evolution by James Clerk Maxwell At quite uncertain times and place The atoms left their heavenly path And by fortuitous embraces, Engendered all that being hath. And though they seem to cling toge
Lectures to Women on Physical Science by James Clerk Maxwell PLACE. —A small alcove with dar The class consists of one member. SUBJECT.—Thomson’s Mirror Gal The lamp—light falls on blackened And streams through narrow …
The Acts of Youth by John Wieners And with great fear I inhabit the What wrecks of the mind await me, to dull the senses, what little I what more can be taken away? The fear of travelling, of the fut
A Poem for the Old Man by John Wieners God love you Dana my lover lost in the horde on this Friday night, 500 men are moving up
Children of the Working Class by John Wieners to Somes from incarceration, Taunton State gaunt, ugly deformed broken from the womb, and horribly at the labor of their forefathers,
A poem for vipers by John Wieners I sit in Lees. At 11:40 PM with Jimmy the pusher. He teaches me Ju Ju. Hot on the table before us shrimp foo yong, rice and mushroom chow yuke. Up the street under the
Mine own John Poynz by Thomas Wyatt Mine own John Poynz, since ye del The cause why that homeward I me And flee the press of courts, wher Rather than to live thrall under t Of lordly looks, wrappèd within my
Patience, Though I Have Not by Thomas Wyatt Patience, though I have not The thing that I require, I must of force, God wot, Forbear my most desire; For no ways can I find
Canto XLV by Ezra Pound With usura hath no man a house of each block cut smooth and well fit that design might cover their face with usura hath no man a painted paradise on
Cantico del Sole by Ezra Pound The thought of what America would If the Classics had a wide circul Troubles my sleep, The thought of what America, The thought of what America, 1
Canto I by Ezra Pound And then went down to the ship, Set keel to breakers, forth on the We set up mast and sail on that sw Bore sheep aboard her, and our bod Heavy with weeping, and winds from
from Canto CXV by Ezra Pound The scientists are in terror and the European mind stops Wynham Lewis chose blindness rather than have his mind stop. Night under wind mid garofani,