A Sailor Went to Sea By Nursery Rhyme A sailor went to sea, sea, sea, To see what he could see, see, see. But all that he could see, see, see, Was the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea,…
Category: Poem Analysis
Equality
Equality By Maya Angelou You declare you see me dimly through a glass which will not shine, though I stand before you boldly, trim in rank and marking time. You do own to hear me faintly as a whisper out…
Mock Orange
Mock Orange By Louise Gluck It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard. I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—…
On The Grasshopper and Cricket
On The Grasshopper and Cricket By John Keats The Poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the…
Ode To Psyche
Ode To Psyche B John Keats O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, And pardon that thy secrets should be sung Even into thine own soft-conched ear: Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I…
High Flight
High Flight By John Gillespie Magee Jr. Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things You have…
Spare
Spare By Joanna Klink in Texas, the thick nights. Sidewalks as the dusk darkens, the highway’s streaking lights. Some people are always in a hurry, beautifully— some stop to tilt their heads at a cloud or strange sound. You know…
The Laughing Heart
The Laughing Heart By Charles Bukowski Your life is your life Don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission. Be on the watch. There are ways out. There is a light somewhere. It may not be much light but It…
Sonnet 125
Sonnet 125 By William Shakespeare Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, Which proves more short than waste or ruining; Have I not seen dwellers on form…
Sonnet 123
Sonnet 123 By William Shakespeare No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are…
The Send Off
The Send Off By Wilfred Owen Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way To the siding-shed, And lined the train with faces grimly gay. Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray As men’s are, dead.…
For The Time Being
For The Time Being By W. H. Auden Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree, Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes — Some have got broken — and carrying them up to the attic.…
A Prayer in Spring
A Prayer in Spring By Robert Frost Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. Oh,…
Terminus
Terminus By Ralph Waldo Emerson January 1867 Issue It is time to be old, To take in sail: — The god of bounds, Who sets to seas a shore, Came to me in his fatal rounds. And said, “No more!…
To The Nile
To The Nile By John Keats Son of the old Moon-mountains African! Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile! We call thee fruitful, and that very while A desert fills our seeing’s inward span: Nurse of swart nations since the world…
A Hymn To God The Father
A Hymn To God The Father By John Donne Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still, though…
The Old Pond
The Old Pond by Matsuo Basho The old pond– a frog jumps in, sound of water. (Translated by Robert Hass) Summary of The Old Pond Popularity of “The Old Pond”: Written by a well-known Japanese classic poet, Matsuo Basho, this…
Yet Do I Marvel
Yet Do I Marvel By Countee Cullen I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind, And did He stoop to quibble could tell why The little buried mole continues blind, Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die, Make…
To Toussaint Louverture
To Toussaint Louverture By William Wordsworth TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon’s earless den; – O miserable Chieftain! where and…
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798 By William Wordsworth Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I…
