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Sand Dunes

© Robert Frost

Sea waves are green and wet,
But up from where they die,
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.

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I Will Sing You One-O

© Robert Frost

It was long I lay
Awake that night
Wishing that night
Would name the hour

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Songs of the Voices of Birds: A Poet in his Youth, and the Cuckoo-Bird

© Jean Ingelow

“O, I hear thee in the blue;
Would that I might wing it too!
O to have what hope hath seen!
O to be what might have been!

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Pan with Us

© Robert Frost

Pan came out of the woods one day,--
His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray,
The gray of the moss of walls were they,--
And stood in the sun and looked his fill
At wooded valley and wooded hill.

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Acceptance

© Robert Frost

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know

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Sephestia's Lullaby

© Robert Greene

WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;

When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.

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First Love

© Victor Marie Hugo

[MARION DELORME, Act I., June, 1829, _played_ 1831.]


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The Bard's Incantation

© Sir Walter Scott

The Forest of Glenmore is drear,

It is all of black pine, and the dark oak-tree;

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The Death of the Hired Man

© Robert Frost

Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news

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The Borough. Letter XXII: Peter Grimes

© George Crabbe

  Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
  From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
  Hard that he could not every wish obey,
  But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
  Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
  But must acquire the money he would spend.

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Home Burial

© Robert Frost

He saw her from the bottom of the stairs
Before she saw him. She was starting down,
Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.
She took a doubtful step and then undid it

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Into My Own

© Robert Frost

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto th eedge of doom.

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Elegy XIX

© John Donne

Whoever loves, if he do not propose

The right true end of love, he's one that goes

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Bereft

© Robert Frost

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,

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The Iconoclastic Rustic And The Apropos Acorn

© Guy Wetmore Carryl

  THE MORAL: In the early spring
  A pumpkin-tree would be a thing
  Most gratifying to us all,
  But how about the early fall?

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Health

© Edward Thomas

Four miles at a leap, over the dark hollow land,
To the frosted steep of the down and its junipers black,
Travels my eye with equal ease and delight:
And scarce could my body leap four yards.

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Jericho; or, The Waters Healed

© John Newton

Though Jericho pleasantly stood,

And looked like a promising soil;

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Testament

© Wendell Berry

2.
But do not let your ignorance
Of my spirit's whereabouts dismay
You, or overwhelm your thoughts.
Be careful not to say

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The Honor Roll

© Edgar Albert Guest

The boys upon the honor roll, God bless them all, I pray!
  God watch them when they sleep at night, and guard them through the day.
  We've stamped their names upon our walls, the list in glory grows,
  Our brave boys and our splendid boys who stand to meet our foes.

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A Meeting

© Wendell Berry

In a dream I meet
my dead friend. He has,
I know, gone long and far,
and yet he is the same