E.E. Cummings was from Cambridge Mass and served in WWI in.the ambulance corp. He was also very much anti-war and may have been a conscientious objector to the war thus accounting for his position in the ambulance corps.
I don’t know his religion, but many Quakers are anti- war, and served in the ambulance corp during war, thus avoiding face to face combat activity while still serving their country.
One hundred years ago today, Ernest Hemingway , at 18 years of age was serving with the American Red Cross in WW I as an ambulance driver, when he was hit by.mortar and sustained serious injury . As a result of his service during this war, he was.awarded a medal for valor.
The idea behind Hemingway’s novel,” A Farewell to Arms” about the love of an ambulance driver during WW I may have originated from his experience driving an ambulance during WW I.
I know a lot of classical books are actually poems like both the Iliad and Odysseus by Homer… however rather than saying my favourite. My least favourite was Beowulf. Had to read it in University as part of my English Literature class and it nearly destroyed me. Perhaps it was because I had 4 other classes but it was also in Anglosaxen English
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
This part of the poem is recited in another movie, “A River Runs Through It.” Listening to two of the major characters recite these few words, always takes my breath away.
When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed And post o’er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.”
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Do not go gentle into that good night Dylan Thomas, 1914 – 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Robert Frost, Fire and Ice; John Keats, When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be; Percy Byshe Shelley, Ozymandias; Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rhime of the Ancient Mariner; Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven.
The Waste Land by T S Eliot. I don’t understand all the meaning but that’s not important. I listen to Alex Guinness reciting it on audio and it is so seductive. Perhaps if I understood it very well it would lose its hypnotic effect over me
The World Is Too Much With Us William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers, For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.—Great God! I’d rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn
No man is an island, Entire of itself, Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thy friend’s Or of thine own were: Any man’s death diminishes me, Because I am involved in mankind, And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
The Ballad of Reading Gaol. When one of my dogs died in a freak accident a number of years ago, I spent 3 days haunting bookstores looking for this poem. It was the only thing that got me through the guilt.
I can’t pick one! I love Lord Alfred Tennyson’s work. I read and enjoyed Lord Byron’s poetry. Victor Hugo’s poetry is something that I love. The collection I have of World War I poetry (even though, I don’t think this is counted as classic poetry?), is something that I prize. As for Greek poetry, I adore Homer’s ‘The Iliad’
@Kathy I really want to read more Greek authors, they are rather fascinating to me. Thank you for your recommendation. I’ll definitely check this man’s work out!
a good question, Kathy! As a literary researcher considering that question for a book I’m preparing for a publisher at this time, I am thinking, maybe, just maybe, classic poetry begins as poets attempt to transform their writing in the mode of classical poetry, and inch toward modern ways of poetic expression…
A Hidden Life, Better Things, and the poetry from the novel Sir Gibbie by George MacDonald; Tam O’Shanter, Ae Fond Kiss, The Cottar’s Saturday Night, Holy Willie’s Prayer by Robert Burns; The Convent Threshold, Goblin Market, Uphill, Remember and Birthday by Christian Rossetti; Paradise Lost, Lycidas and On His Blindness by Milton; the poetry from LOTR by Tolkien; As the Ruin falls by C S Lewis; Endymion, Ode to a Nightingale and To Autumn and Dedication to Leigh Hunt by John Keats; several by Coleridge of which I can’t remember all the titles!
” She Walks in Beauty”
Lord Byron
Some of Robert Frost and Wordsworth’s poems
Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost, and I Carry Your Heart with Me by E.E. Cummings are my two favorites ❤️ …Keats is great too.
I like Keats too.
LAURA:
E.E. Cummings was from Cambridge Mass and served in WWI in.the ambulance corp. He was also very much anti-war and may have been a conscientious objector to the war thus accounting for his position in the ambulance corps.
I don’t know his religion, but many Quakers are anti- war, and served in the ambulance corp during war, thus avoiding face to face combat activity while still serving their country.
One hundred years ago today, Ernest Hemingway , at 18 years of age was serving with the American Red Cross in WW I as an ambulance driver, when he was hit by.mortar and sustained serious injury . As a result of his service during this war, he was.awarded a medal for valor.
The idea behind Hemingway’s novel,” A Farewell to Arms” about the love of an ambulance driver during WW I may have originated from his experience driving an ambulance during WW I.
Anything by Keats— he is my absolute favourite. I wandered lonely as a cloud by William Wordsworth too!
“Lonely as a cloud”…I’ve never thought of a cloud as having any emotion, especially one as being ” lonely*.
There is also of course, the Cloud of Fate , which is always lurking
(1/03/19)
Ode to a Nightingale, Adonais, Sailing to Byzantium, and The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock
“Ode to a Nightingale” by John Keats :
” death is an inevitable part of life”.
Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Edna St. Vincent Millay…
In Xanadu
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Dulce et Decorum Est
There’s a certain slant of light…Emily Dickinson
Love that one—also I died for beauty
I love Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
Many interpretations /speculations possible .
“Evangeline”
Longfellow
Saw a play about this poem a few years ago, it was awesome!!!
I love the name, Evangeline.
@Kathy Me too 🙂
Ode to the Nightingale
John Keats
Dylan Thomas, do not go gentle into that good night.
‘No Man is an Island’ by John Donne and ‘To his Coy Mistress’ by Andrew Marvell.
From: “Ode to the West Wind”
“The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind”?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Love is not all by Edna St Vincent Millay
Response to poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay in which the following
phrase is noted:
If ” love is not all” then, what is?
(1/03/19)
Have you read it? I think you missed the point.
I know a lot of classical books are actually poems like both the Iliad and Odysseus by Homer… however rather than saying my favourite. My least favourite was Beowulf. Had to read it in University as part of my English Literature class and it nearly destroyed me. Perhaps it was because I had 4 other classes but it was also in Anglosaxen English
Stopping by woods on a snowy evening, Robert Frost
I love that poem.
me too
Or “The Road Not Taken” or “Mending Wall.”
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall”
@Leslie I love the script on his gravestone..that he had a “lover’s quarrel with the world”
The Trees are down by Charlotte Mew
The Trailing Arbutus – John Greenleaf Whitter
A Fond Kiss
Robert Burns
“A fond kiss, and then we sever.”
This is a Bobby Burns favorite of mine.
Ae fond kiss…. don’t mean to be a stickler but i was born a few miles away from him:)
Hudson Richmond
You are.not a “stickler”. I always enjoy your comments.
Can you tell us where you were born?
If you can’t , that’s OK.
@Kathy Ayshire, Scotland
Hudson Richman:
Thanks!
I’ ll look it up on my map.
I enjoy learning about new places.
“Red, Red Rose”
One of my very favorite poems!
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed- Walt Whitman
My Heart Is Sick With Longing
Thomas Hood
Annabel Lee
Edgar Allen Poe
“For the moon never beams,
without bringing me dreams
of the beautiful Annabel Lee”
William Wordsworth
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Splendor in.tbe Grass, from the above poem, was the title of an.early 1960s movie, scripted by William Inge.
It was a major movie hit, as was the song and the associated music score.
This part of the poem is recited in another movie, “A River Runs Through It.” Listening to two of the major characters recite these few words, always takes my breath away.
I heard some of tbe recordings this AM when.I was making some notes.
Some vocalists are good, others are excellent.
The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.
“Once upon a midnight dreary…”
The Tell Tale Heart
Edgar Allen Poe
I also would choose The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe!
The Battle Hymn of the Republic
Julia Ward Howe
American Civil War Music and Poetry.
As I Grew Older
Langston Hughes
Madam and Her Madam
Langston Hughes
My Friend by Langston Hughes
The Soldier by Rupert Brook
The Cloud of Fate
Bacchylides ( 5 BC )
How true , it is!
Apologia Pro Poemate Meo and Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen
The Convergence of the Twain – Thomas Hardy
The High Immortal Gods Are Free
The high immortal Gods are free
From taint of man’s infirmity
Nor pale diseases round them wait
Nor pain distracts their tranquil fate
By Bacchylides (5 BC)
Robert burns To a Mouse. Robert Frost stopping by woods, and road less taken
Les miserables by Victor Hugo, and A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.
On His Blindness” by John Milton (1608-1674)
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
This was one of my picks too. Great poem!
“If-” by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Sonnet 29 by Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
@John That one is my favorite, too.
“Invictus” by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
“A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning” by John Donne
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say
The breath goes now, and some say, No:
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th’ earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did, and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers’ love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined,
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the other do.
And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
@John LOVE Donne
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 – 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I love this poem with my whole heart.and soul.
This is one of my favorites as well.
@John I love this one. I wanted to read it at my father’s memorial service, but was too inhibited to ask.
@Lynne Ack, you should have. It was your papa.
Beautiful!
Lake Isle of Innesfree, Yeats
The Hollow Men, T.S. Elliot
I’m glad you know your English writer’s. Mrs. Butler would be proud.
Robert Frost, Fire and Ice; John Keats, When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be; Percy Byshe Shelley, Ozymandias; Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rhime of the Ancient Mariner; Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven.
I love ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.
@Pollie Made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I first read it, and it still has that effect more than 40 years later.
She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
William Wordsworth
Keats ‘Ode to Autumn’ – absolute favourite.
Good choice, Tante!
Death Be Not.Proud
John Donne
Carol of Words (Whitman) I’m Nobody (Emily Dickenson)
Robert frost’s lodge,fire and ice
All Emily Dickinson’s poem❤️❤️
The Waste Land by T S Eliot. I don’t understand all the meaning but that’s not important. I listen to Alex Guinness reciting it on audio and it is so seductive. Perhaps if I understood it very well it would lose its hypnotic effect over me
Yes!
Oh…and An Irish Airman foresees his Death by W B Yeats…
That’s a good one by Yeats.
@John are you a Yeats fan also??
Wordsworth, Yeats, and T.S. Eliot are all great poets.
The World Is Too Much With Us
William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God! I’d rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn
@John For years I mistakenly attributed this poem to Matthew Arnold. I think I was getting it confused with Dover Beach–they have similar themes.
No Man is an Island – John Donne.
No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
The Raven by Poe, The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes, Rimbaud and Pablo Neruda.
Carl Sandburg, “Fight”.
I just bought a book containing all of Poe’s poems and his short stories.
?
If by Rudyard Kipling, Daffodils by Wordsworth ( I think?!?! ) She Walks in Beauty by Percy Shelly
The Ballad of Reading Gaol. When one of my dogs died in a freak accident a number of years ago, I spent 3 days haunting bookstores looking for this poem. It was the only thing that got me through the guilt.
Emily Dickinson’s poems (here are 3 first lines: I’ll tell you how the sun rose…, There is no frigate like a book…, Hope is…)
Howl for Carl Solomon, Allen Ginsberg
This poem is a new one for me!
http://www.famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/allen_ginsberg/poems/8315 It can be upsetting to some. I date back to the beatnik era and don’t scare easily.
There once was a man from Nantucket ?
Solitude, Alexander Pope
In Flanders Fields
By
John McCrae
This is one of my favorite ones too.
I can remember when we used to have Poppiy Day in tbe US.
Everyone bought a poppy and wore it on their coat to remember tbe deceased.
Those were the days..
It is also one of my favorites.
@Kathy do you not have poppy day anymore? we still have it in Australia & in the UK.
The Rhime of the Ancient Mariner
The Lady of Shalott
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
I loved The Lady of Shalot.
Love Poems To God
By Maria Rilke
“I am too alone in the world, but not alone enough.”
The road less traveled
@Maureen How is this a literature response or reference?
@Maureen ??
@Kathy
OK
I can’t pick one! I love Lord Alfred Tennyson’s work. I read and enjoyed Lord Byron’s poetry. Victor Hugo’s poetry is something that I love. The collection I have of World War I poetry (even though, I don’t think this is counted as classic poetry?), is something that I prize. As for Greek poetry, I adore Homer’s ‘The Iliad’
Tiffany,:
You might find another Greek poet interesting, such as Bacchylides.
See his poem,The Cloud of Fates 500 BC
@Kathy I really want to read more Greek authors, they are rather fascinating to me. Thank you for your recommendation. I’ll definitely check this man’s work out!
classic or classical, or both, mmm!
Classical ( ancient) poetry is poetry that’s older than classic poetry. Classical poetry has also been referred to as “Ancient. “poetry”.
And classic poetry could be defined as poetry written before 1960, as an example.
So where/when does Classic poetry become classical ancient) poetry?
exactly!
Classical poetry : 500 BC
One of my favorites: The Cloud of Fates
“But that all-disposing Fate,
Which presides o’er mortal state,
Where listeth, casts its shroud
of impenetrable cloud”.
Selection from The Cloud of Fates by
Bacchylides, 500 BC.
Poetry as an avenue to immortality.
a good question, Kathy! As a literary researcher considering that question for a book I’m preparing for a publisher at this time, I am thinking, maybe, just maybe, classic poetry begins as poets attempt to transform their writing in the mode of classical poetry, and inch toward modern ways of poetic expression…
@Kathy mysticism is, I think, a part of the transition. Particular styles, I think, are factors too…
Amazon book section has an extremely extensive selection of Greek lyrical poetry.
Several books are devoted, for example , to selections from @Chinelo.
01/05/19
Significance of poetry to humanity:
Poetry may be viewed in all it’s splender as an “avenue to immortality”.
(The immortal soul).
I haven’t done a great deal of reading in poetry, but I do find this one striking:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44274/to-e-t
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
By
Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for death,
He kindly stopped for me:
The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.
(cont’d online)
Blow, Blow,Thou Winter Wind
By William Shakespeare
Quote:
“Then heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.”
At least, Willy had a since.of humor!
I found a book of poetry… most of those poems I learned while in high school… they were all in that one poetry book. Brought back so many memoires…
Norton Anthology of American Poetry is excellent.
@Alice do you remember the name of the book?
Good memories too!
Howl by Ginsberg
Anything by Shel Silverstein. Alright, he’s modern and I’m an elementary school teacher, mom and grandma!
Emily Dickinson “an awful tempest mashed the air….”
The Eagle
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
A Hidden Life, Better Things, and the poetry from the novel Sir Gibbie by George MacDonald; Tam O’Shanter, Ae Fond Kiss, The Cottar’s Saturday Night, Holy Willie’s Prayer by Robert Burns; The Convent Threshold, Goblin Market, Uphill, Remember and Birthday by Christian Rossetti; Paradise Lost, Lycidas and On His Blindness by Milton; the poetry from LOTR by Tolkien; As the Ruin falls by C S Lewis; Endymion, Ode to a Nightingale and To Autumn and Dedication to Leigh Hunt by John Keats; several by Coleridge of which I can’t remember all the titles!
‘The Road not taken’, and ‘Stopping by Woods on. Snowy Evening’ Robert Frost.
Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare ❤️??
Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare
Charge of the Light Brigade