Chicago by Carl Sandburg Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders: They tell me you are wicked and I believe them,…
Category: Poem Analysis
Little Boy Blue
Little Boy Blue by Mother Goose Little boy blue, Come blow your horn, The sheep’s in the meadow, The cow’s in the corn. But where is the boy Who looks after the sheep? He’s under a haystack, Fast asleep. Alternate…
Of Modern Poetry
Of Modern Poetry by Wallace Stevens The poem of the mind in the act of finding What will suffice? It has not always had To find: the scene was set; it repeated what Was in the script. Then the theatre…
Much Madness is Divinest Sense
Much Madness is Divinest Sense by Emily Dickinson Much Madness is Divinest Sense – To a discerning Eye – Much Sense – the starkest Madness – ’Tis the Majority In this, as all, prevail – Assent – and you are…
Sailing to Byzantium
Sailing to Byzantium by William Butler Yeats I That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend…
Anthem for Doomed Youth
Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? — Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no…
Jack and Jill
Jack and Jill by Mother Goose Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. Up Jack got, and home did trot, As fast…
I Hear America Singing
I Hear America Singing by Walt Whitman I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear, Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or…
Sing a Song of Sixpence
Sing a Song of Sixpence by Mother Goose Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye, Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was opened The birds began to sing— Wasn’t that a dainty…
Digging
Digging by Seamus Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his…
Ballad of Birmingham
Ballad of Birmingham by Dudley Randall “Mother dear, may I go downtown Instead of out to play, And march the streets of Birmingham In a Freedom March today?” “No, baby, no, you may not go, For the dogs are fierce…
The Mower
The Mower by Philip Larkin The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, Killed. It had been in the long grass. I had seen it before, and even fed it, once. Now I had…
On Being Brought from Africa to America
On Being Brought from Africa to America by Phillis Wheatley ‘Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, Taught my benighted soul to understand That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too: Once I redemption neither sought nor knew. Some view our sable…
London
London by William Blake I wander thro’ each charter’d street, Near where the charter’d Thames does flow. And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infants cry…
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer by Walt Whitman When 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,…
Wild Oats
Wild Oats by Philip Larkin About twenty years ago Two girls came in where I worked— A bosomy English rose And her friend in specs I could talk to. Faces in those days sparked The whole shooting-match off, and I…
John Henry
John Henry by Anonymous When John Henry was a little tiny baby Sitting on his mama’s knee, He picked up a hammer and a little piece of steel Saying, “Hammer’s going to be the death of me, Lord, Lord, Hammer’s…
The Cremation of Sam McGee
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W. Service There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The…
To a Mouse
To a Mouse by Robert Burns Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee Wi’ murd’ring pattle!…
Harlem
Harlem by Langston Hughes What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like…
