Category Archives: Poems Memorized

A collection of the poems I’ve memorized.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

by Robert Frost Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing … Continue reading

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Loveliest of Trees: Posted too Soon!

Eager beaver blogger that I was, I posted, long before I should have way back in cold January, a poem about cherry blossoms.  One of the first I memorized, “Loveliest of Trees the Cherry, Now” by A.E. Housman, perfectly captures … Continue reading

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I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

William Wordsworth I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the … Continue reading

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To A Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing

William Butler Yeats Now all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For how can you compete, Being honor bred, with one Who were it proved he lies Were neither shamed in his own … Continue reading

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Out of the rolling ocean the crowd

Walt Whitman Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me, whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travell’d a long way merely to look on you to touch you, For I could … Continue reading

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Dream Deferred

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 a syrupy … Continue reading

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Psalm 121

Michael Wigglesworth I to the hills lift up mine eyes, from whence shall come mine aid. Mine help doth from Jehovah come, which heaven and earth hath made. He will not let thy foot be moved, nor slumber; that thee … Continue reading

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Afton Water

Robert Burns Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds … Continue reading

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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To … Continue reading

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Winter is Good, His Hoar Delights

Emily Dickinson Winter is good — his Hoar Delights Italic flavor yield To Intellects inebriate With Summer, or the World — Generic as a Quarry And hearty — as a Rose — Invited with Asperity But welcome when he goes.

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