Tag Archives: poetry

Poem Memorization Tip Number Nine Revisited (put the children to bed before reading this)

Still working on the poem, To A Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing by William Butler Yeats.  Here’s what I’ve memorized so far: Now all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For … 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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Poem Memorization Tip Number Nine

I’m working on the poem, To A Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing by William Butler Yeats.  Here’s what I’ve memorized so far: Now all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For … 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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With Rue My Heart is Laden

A.E. Housman With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had For many a rose lipt maiden And many a light foot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The light-foot boys are laid The rose-lipt girls are … Continue reading

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