Category: Poem Analysis

There’s a Certain Slant of Light

There’s a Certain Slant of Light by Emily Dickinson There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons – That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes – Heavenly Hurt, it gives us – We can find no scar, But internal…

Frost at Midnight

Frost at Midnight by Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet’s cry Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before. The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to that…

The Mother 

The Mother by Gwendolyn Brooks Abortions will not let you forget. You remember the children you got that you did not get, The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair, The singers and workers that never handled…

The Little Black Boy

The Little Black Boy by William Blake My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child: But I am black as if bereav’d…

Beat! Beat! Drums!

Beat! Beat! Drums! by Walt Whitman Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow! Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying, Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no…

Huswifery

Huswifery by Edward Taylor Make me, O Lord, thy Spining Wheele compleate. Thy Holy Worde my Distaff make for mee. Make mine Affections thy Swift Flyers neate And make my Soule thy holy Spoole to bee. My conversation make to…

The Gift

The Gift by Li-Young Lee To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. I watched his lovely face and not the blade. Before the story ended, he’d removed the iron sliver…

Nikki-Rosa

Nikki-Rosa by Nikki Giovanni childhood remembrances are always a drag if you’re Black you always remember things like living in Woodlawn with no inside toilet and if you become famous or something they never talk about how happy you were…

Sonnet 138

Sonnet 138 by William Shakespeare When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly…

Darkness

Darkness by Lord Byron I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening…

Sonnet 55: Not Marble nor the Gilded Monuments

Sonnet 55: Not Marble nor the Gilded Monuments by William Shakespeare  Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time.…

The Flower

The Flower by George Herbert  How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow…

The Song of Wandering Aengus

The Song of Wandering Aengus by William Butler Yeats I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white…

Verses upon the Burning of Our House

Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 10th, 1666 by Anne Bradstreet In silent night when rest I took, For sorrow near I did not look, I wakened was with thund’ring noise And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice. That…

Facing It

Facing It by Youssef Komunyakaa My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn’t dammit: No tears. I’m stone. I’m flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted…

A Narrow Fellow in the Grass

A Narrow Fellow in the Grass by Emily Dickinson A narrow Fellow in the grass Occasionally rides – You may have met him? Did you not His notice instant is – The grass divides as with a Comb, A spotted…

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt  Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An…

The Man He Killed

The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy  “Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to wet Right many a nipperkin! “But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I…

We Are Seven

We Are Seven by William Wordsworth  ———A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said;…