Chapter 11 Musical Devices

God’s Grandeur by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; Bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs-- Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

We Real Cool THE POOL PLAYERS SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL By Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon. Woman Work By Maya Angelou

I've got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry The baby to dry I got company to feed The garden to weed I've got the shirts to press The tots to dress The cane to be cut I gotta clean up this hut Then see about the sick And the cotton to pick.

Shine on me, sunshine Rain on me, rain Fall softly, dewdrops And cool my brow again.

Storm, blow me from here With your fiercest wind Let me float across the sky 'Til I can rest again.

Fall gently, snowflakes Cover me with white Cold icy kisses and Let me rest tonight.

Sun, rain, curving sky Mountain, oceans, leaf and stone Star shine, moon glow You're all that I can call my own.

As imperceptibly as Grief By Emily Dickinson As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away -- Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy -- A Quietness distilled As Twilight long begun, Or Nature spending with herself Sequestered Afternoon -- The Dusk drew earlier in -- The Morning foreign shone -- A courteous, yet harrowing Grace, As Guest, that would be gone -- And thus, without a Wing Or service of a Keel Our Summer made her light escape Into the Beautiful.

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 gold can stay.