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Poems for English 10 Poems for English 10

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Poems for English 10 Poems for English 10 Poems for English 10 O Captain! My Captain! --Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. What The Doctor Said - Raymond Carver He said it doesn't look good he said it looks bad in fact real bad he said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before I quit counting them I said I'm glad I wouldn't want to know about any more being there than that he said are you a religious man do you kneel down in forest groves and let yourself ask for help when you come to a waterfall mist blowing against your face and arms do you stop and ask for understanding at those moments I said not yet but I intend to start today he said I'm real sorry he said I wish I had some other kind of news to give you 1 I said Amen and he said something else I didn't catch and not knowing what else to do and not wanting him to have to repeat it and me to have to fully digest it I just looked at him for a minute and he looked back it was then I jumped up and shook hands with this man who'd just given me something no one else on earth had ever given me I may have even thanked him habit being so strong I Hear America singing --Walt Whitman I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics--each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat--the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench--the hatter singing as he stands; The wood-cutter's song--the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; The delicious singing of the mother--or of the young wife at work--or of the girl sewing or washing--Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else; The day what belongs to the day--At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs. 2 In Memory of a Child The Shoes BY Vachel Lindsey --Brent Pallas I When they first came The angels guide him now, their mouths agape And watch his curly head, their bodies shining And lead him in their games, like beetles about to stir The little boy we led. every edge poised II for the multitude of steps He cannot come to harm, some moment He knows more than we know, of leaping not yet taken His light is brighter far Than daytime here below. their hides stiff shielding some tenderness III within, warming His path leads on and on, to the creak of movement Through pleasant lawns and flowers, His brown eyes open wide over penitent steps At grass more green than ours. or dusty wastes, unyielding tasks or stony memorials IV of waiting With playmates like himself, The shining boy will sing, through the heat of day's Exploring wondrous woods, quiet middle, every icy Sweet with eternal spring. threshold or soggy spring their heels flush with pavement, V Yet, he is lost to us, their soles flung aside only Far is his path of gold, for love, all the tattered Far does the city seem, maps of their seams, every Lonely our hearts and old. unforgiving rub. Nothing Gold Can Stay The Sky is Low --Robert Frost --Emily Dickinson The Sky is low-the Clouds are mean Nature's first green is gold, A Traveling Flake of Snow Her hardest hue to hold. Across a Barn or through a Rut Her early leafs a flower; Debates if it will go- But only so an hour. A Narrow Wind complains all Day Then leaf subsides to leaf. How some one treated him. So Eden sank to grief, Nature, like Us is sometimes caught So dawn goes down to day. Without her Diadem. Nothing gold can stay. 3 Morning --Billy Collins Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Why do we bother with the rest of the day, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. the swale of the afternoon, the sudden dip into evening, Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they then night with his notorious perfumes, Do not go gentle into that good night. his many-pointed stars? Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright This is the best— Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, throwing off the light covers, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. feet on the cold floor, and buzzing around the house on espresso— Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, maybe a splash of water on the face, Do not go gentle into that good night. a palmful of vitamins— but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso, Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, dictionary and atlas open on the rug, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. the typewriter waiting for the key of the head, a cello on the radio, And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray, and, if necessary, the windows— Do not go gentle into that good night. trees fifty, a hundred years old Rage, rage against the dying of the light. out there, heavy clouds on the way Resume and the lawn steaming like a horse -- Dorothy Parker in the early morning. Razors pain you; The Illiterate Rivers are damp; --William Meredith Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp; Touching your goodness, I am like a man Guns aren't lawful; Who turns a letter over in his hand Nooses give; And you might think this was because the hand Gas smells awful; Was unfamiliar but, truth is, the man You might as well live. Has never had a letter from anyone; And now he is both afraid of what it means And ashamed because he has no other means To find out what it says than to ask someone. His uncle could have left the farm to him, Or his parents died before he sent them word, Or the dark girl changed and want him for beloved. Afraid and letter-proud, he keeps it with him. What would you call his feeling for the words That keep him rich and orphaned and beloved? Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night --Dylan Thomas 4 If Not for the Cat Bloodstained Kiss --Jack Prelutsky If not for the cat, Those soft, bashful eyes. And the scarcity of cheese, your seductive, blood-stained kiss, I could be content. sweetened all your lies. Green Frog There were no goodbyes. --Ryunosuke Akutagawa You don't know how much I miss those soft, bashful eyes. Green frog, Is your body also Despite your disguise, freshly painted? your scent, your touch, your smile; This Sick and Feverish sweetened all your lies. ----Ryunosuke Akutagawa Striving for the prize, Sick and feverish but there was something amiss; Glimpse of cherry blossoms those soft, bashful eyes. Still shivering. So I memorize, In the Cicada’s Cry all my dreams of you; this bliss --Matsu Basho sweetened all your lies. In the cicada's cry Though I still despise, No sign can foretell I do need to reminisce. How soon it must die. Those soft, bashful eyes, An Old Pond! sweetened all your lies. ----Matsu Basho maggie and milly and molly and may An old pond! --E.E. Cumming A frog jumps in- The sound of water. maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) They’ve gone and maggie discovered a shell that sang -- Dhugal Lindsay so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and milly befriend a stranded star they've gone... whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing where the beach umbrella was which raced sideways while blowing bubbles and the sand not quite so hot may came home with as mooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone.
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