Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind by William Shakespeare Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho!…
Tag: poem analysis
I Am!
I Am! by John Clare I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s…
Abandoned Farmhouse
Abandoned Farmhouse by Ted Kooser He was a big man, says the size of his shoes on a pile of broken dishes by the house; a tall man too, says the length of the bed in an upstairs room; and…
Blackberry-Picking
Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one…
Neutral Tones
Neutral Tones by Thomas Hardy We stood by a pond that winter day, And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, And a few leaves lay on the starving sod; – They had fallen from an ash, and…
Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now
A Shropshire Lad 2 Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now by A. E. Housman Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my…
The Snow Man
The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice,…
The Cloud
The Cloud by Percy Bysshe Shelley I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews…
I dwell in Possibility
I dwell in Possibility by Emily Dickinson I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars – Impregnable of eye – And for…
A Dream
A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed— But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him…
In the Desert
In the Desert by Stephen Crane In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he…
My Life Had Stood – a Loaded Gun
My Life Had Stood – a Loaded Gun by Emily Dickinson My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun – In Corners – till a Day The Owner passed – identified – And carried Me away – And now We…
Sea Fever
Sea Fever by John Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel’s kick and…
To My Mother
To My Mother by Edgar Allan Poe Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother,” Therefore by that dear…
The Albatross
The Albatross by Kate Bass When I know you are coming home I put on this necklace: glass beads on a silken thread, a blue that used to match my eyes. I like to think I am remembering you. I…
I Remember, I Remember
I Remember, I Remember by Thomas Hood I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a…
A Bird, Came Down the Walk
A Bird, Came Down the Walk by Emily Dickinson A Bird, came down the Walk – He did not know I saw – He bit an Angle Worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw, And then, he drank a…
Song of Myself
Song of Myself by Walt Whitman 1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and…
Wild Nights – Wild Nights
Wild Nights – Wild Nights by Emily Dickinson Wild nights – Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a Heart in port – Done with the Compass – Done…
The Solitary Reaper
The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen!…