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The Rhodora

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,

Ralph Waldo Emerson

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night;

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Peer of Gods He Seemeth to Me

Peer of gods he seemeth to me, the blissful Man who sits and gazes at thee before him,

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:

A Dream Within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now,

Edgar Allan Poe

We Wear the Mask

We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—

Paul Laurence Dunbar

On Children

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

In the Morning (from the Meditations, V)

In the morning when thou risest unwillingly, let this thought be present,— I am rising to the work of a human being.

Marcus Aurelius

On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

Wanderer's Night-Song

Thou that from the heavens art, Every pain and sorrow stillest,

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The Lost One

The red gleam o'er the mountains Goes wavering from sight,

The Song of the Reed

Listen to the reed how it tells a tale, complaining of separations— Saying, "Ever since I was parted from the reed-bed,

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

William Wordsworth

Hope is the thing with feathers

"Hope" is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul -

Emily Dickinson

Spring (from The Seasons)

A stalwart soldier comes, the spring, Who bears the bow of Love;

Richard Cory

Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him:

Edwin Arlington Robinson

November Night

Listen... With faint dry sound,

Adelaide Crapsey

A Psalm of Life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

Arise, oh Cup-bearer

Arise, oh Cup-bearer, rise! and bring To lips that are thirsting the bowl they praise,

Bright Star

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

Thoughts on a Quiet Night

I saw the moonlight before my couch, And wondered if it were not the frost on the ground.

Requiescat

Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow,

If—

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

Rudyard Kipling

Clair de Lune

Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair, Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,

The Sail

A lone white sail on the horizon Upon the azure sea doth stand.

Mikhail Lermontov

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying:

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

The Sons of Adam

The sons of Adam are limbs of each other, having been created of one essence.

Where the mind is without fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free;

Rabindranath Tagore

The Little Rain

Oh! she is good, the little rain! and well she knows our need Who cometh in the time of spring to aid the sun-drawn seed;

The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night;

A Book of Verses

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

William Shakespeare

The Old Pond

Old pond — frogs jumped in —

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