Transcription
A FewSelections ofFavoritePoems(in English,mostly)Featuring (in order):Willie sJackLawrenceAllenR. HaydenM. HarperShel&Maya
SONNET XVIIIby William ShakespeareShall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dimmed,And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:But thy eternal summer shall not fade,Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.SONNET LXVby Willam ShakespeareSince brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,But sad mortality o'ersways their power,How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,Whose action is no stronger than a flower?O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out,Against the wrackful siege of battering days,When rocks impregnable are not so stout,Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?O fearful meditation! where, alack,Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?O! none, unless this miracle have might,That in black ink my love may still shine bright.SONNET CXVIby Willam ShakespeareLet me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration finds,Or bends with the remover to remove:O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,That looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wandering bark,Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeksWithin his bending sickle's compass come;Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,But bears it out even to the edge of doom.If this be error and upon me proved,I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
"Auguries of Innocence"by William BlakeTo see a World in a Grain of SandAnd a Heaven in a Wild Flower,Hold Infinity in the palm of your handAnd Eternity in an hour.A Robin Red breast in a CagePuts all Heaven in a Rage.A dove house fill'd with doves & PigeonsShudders Hell thro' all its regions.A dog starv'd at his Master's GatePredicts the ruin of the State.A Horse misus'd upon the RoadCalls to Heaven for Human blood.Each outcry of the hunted HareA fibre from the Brain does tear.A Skylark wounded in the wing,A Cherubim does cease to sing.The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fightDoes the Rising Sun affright.Every Wolf's & Lion's howlRaises from Hell a Human Soul.The wild deer, wand'ring here & there,Keeps the Human Soul from Care.The Lamb misus'd breeds public strifeAnd yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.The Bat that flits at close of EveHas left the Brain that won't believe.The Owl that calls upon the NightSpeaks the Unbeliever's fright.He who shall hurt the little WrenShall never be belov'd by Men.He who the Ox to wrath has mov'dShall never be by Woman lov'd.The wanton Boy that kills the FlyShall feel the Spider's enmity.He who torments the Chafer's spriteWeaves a Bower in endless Night.The Catterpillar on the LeafRepeats to thee thy Mother's grief.Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.He who shall train the Horse to WarShall never pass the Polar Bar.The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat,Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer's songPoison gets from Slander's tongue.The poison of the Snake & NewtIs the sweat of Envy's Foot.The poison of the Honey BeeIs the Artist's Jealousy.The Prince's Robes & Beggars' RagsAre Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.A truth that's told with bad intentBeats all the Lies you can invent.It is right it should be so;Man was made for Joy & Woe;And when this we rightly knowThro' the World we safely go.Joy & Woe are woven fine,A Clothing for the Soul divine;Under every grief & pineRuns a joy with silken twine.The Babe is more than swadling Bands;Throughout all these Human LandsTools were made, & born were hands,Every Farmer Understands.Every Tear from Every EyeBecomes a Babe in Eternity.This is caught by Females brightAnd return'd to its own delight.The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & RoarAre Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.The Babe that weeps the Rod beneathWrites Revenge in realms of death.The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,Does to Rags the Heavens tear.The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun,Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.The poor Man's Farthing is worth moreThan all the Gold on Afric's Shore.One Mite wrung from the Labrer's handsShall buy & sell the Miser's lands:Or, if protected from on high,Does that whole Nation sell & buy.He who mocks the Infant's FaithShall be mock'd in Age & Death.He who shall teach the Child to DoubtThe rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.He who respects the Infant's faithTriumph's over Hell & Death.The Child's Toys & the Old Man's ReasonsAre the Fruits of the Two seasons.
The Questioner, who sits so sly,Shall never know how to Reply.He who replies to words of DoubtDoth put the Light of Knowledge out.The Strongest Poison ever knownCame from Caesar's Laurel Crown.Nought can deform the Human RaceLike the Armour's iron brace.When Gold & Gems adorn the PlowTo peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.A Riddle or the Cricket's CryIs to Doubt a fit Reply.The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's MileMake Lame Philosophy to smile.He who Doubts from what he seesWill ne'er believe, do what you Please.If the Sun & Moon should doubtThey'd immediately Go out.To be in a Passion you Good may do,But no Good if a Passion is in you.The Whore & Gambler, by the StateLicenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.The Harlot's cry from Street to StreetShall weave Old England's winding Sheet.The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse,Dance before dead England's Hearse.Every Night & every MornSome to Misery are Born.Every Morn & every NightSome are Born to sweet Delight.Some ar Born to sweet Delight,Some are born to Endless Night.We are led to Believe a LieWhen we see not Thro' the EyeWhich was Born in a Night to Perish in a NightWhen the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.God Appears & God is LightTo those poor Souls who dwell in the Night,But does a Human Form DisplayTo those who Dwell in Realms of day.
The Marriage of Heaven and Hellby William BlakePLATE 14The ancient tradition that the world will be consumed in fire at theend of six thousand years is true. as I have heard from Hell.For the cherub with his flaming sword is hereby commanded toleave his guard at the tree of life, and when he does, the whole creation will be consumed, and appear infinite. and holy whereas it nowappears finite & corrupt.This will come to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment.But first the notion that man has a body distinct from his soul, is tobe expunged; this I shall do, by printing in the infernal method, bycorrosives, which in Hell are salutary and medicinal, melting apparentsurfaces away, and displaying the infinite which was hid.If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appearto man as it is: infinite.For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrowchinks of his cavern.----PLATE 15A Memorable FancyI was in a Printing house in Hell & saw the method in whichknowledge is transmitted from generation to generation.In the first chamber was a Dragon-Man, clearing away the rubbishfrom a caves mouth; within, a number of Dragons were hollowing thecave,In the second chamber was a Viper folding round the rock & thecave, and others adorning it with gold silver and precious stones.In the third chamber was an Eagle with wings and feathers of air,he caused the inside of the cave to be infinite, around were numbersof Eagle like men, who built palaces in the immense cliffs.In the fourth chamber were Lions of flaming fire raging around &melting the metals into living fluids.In the fifth chamber were Unnam'd forms, which cast the metalsinto the expanse.There they were reciev'd by Men who occupied the sixth chamber,and took the forms of books & were arranged in libraries.
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomerby Walt WhitmanWhen I heard the learn'd astronomer,When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide,and measure them,When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured withmuch applause in the lecture-room,How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.***O Captain! My Captain!by Walt WhitmanO Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack,the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart!O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- foryou the bugle trills,For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shoresa-crowding,For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;Here Captain! dear father!This arm beneath your head!It is some dream that on the deck,You've fallen cold and dead.My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;Exult O shores, and ring O bells!But I with mournful tread,Walk the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead.
The War Prayerby Mark TwainIt was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, inevery breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toypistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and sputtering; on every hand and far down thereceding and fading spreads of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in thesun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their newuniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voiceschoked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened,panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts and which theyinterrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks thewhile; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country and invoked the God ofBattles, beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpouring of fervid eloquence which movedevery listener.It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured todisapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern andangry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offendedno more in that way.Sunday morning came - next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled;the volunteers were there, their faces alight with material dreams - visions of a stern advance, thegathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, theenveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! - then home from the war, bronzed heros,welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones,proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forthto the field of honor, there to win for the flag or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. Theservice proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; itwas followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose,with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation -- "God the allterrible! Thou who ordainest, Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!"Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading andmoving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was that an ever-merciful andbenignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers and aid, comfort, andencourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in His mighty hand, make themstrong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them andto their flag and country imperishable honor and glory -An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyesfixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, hiswhite hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, paleeven to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; withoutpausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there, waiting.With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer, and atlast finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal,"Bless our arms, grant us the victory, OLord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside - which the startled minister did - andtook his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes inwhich burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said"I come from the Throne - bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote thehouse with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer ofHis servant your shepherd and grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shallhave explained to you its import - that is to say
Frost Kahlil Gwen Langston Jacques Jack Lawrence Allen R. Hayden M. Harper Shel & Maya . SONNET XVIII by William Shakespeare Shall I compare th ee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every .
