Tucker's Poetry Anthology

Literature and Composition - Poetry Anthology (complied by Ms. Tucker for classroom use) Table of Contents “Autumn River Song Poem,” “Alone Looking at the Mountain,” and “Alone and Drinking Under the Moon” by Li Po “Whoso List to Hunt” by Thomas Wyatt “Sonnet 18” “Sonnet 29” and “Sonnet 138” by William Shakespeare “Death be not proud” by John Donne “When I Consider How My Light is Spent” by John Milton “To The Right Honorable William Earl of Dartmouth” by Phyllis Wheatly “Many red devils” and “Fast rode the knight” by Stephen Crane Poems “328” & “754” by Emily Dickinson “The Convergence of the Twain” by Thomas Hardy “Le Dormeur du Val” Arthur Rimbaud “Has My Heart Gone To Sleep?” and “Last Night As I Was Sleeping: by Antonio Machado “Chicago” and “At a Window” by Carl Sandburg “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” by Dylan Thomas “The Sea Elephant” by William Carlos Williams “next to of course god america i” by ee cummings “Stopping by woods on a snowy evening” and “Design” by Robert Frost “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” by Langston Hughes “Fugue of Death” by Paul Celan “Inscription for a war” by A.D. Hope “The Elm” by Sylvia Plath “Tonight I Could Write the Saddest Lines” by Pablo Neruda “The Fury of Sunsets” by Anne Sexton “The Mother” and “We Real Cool” by Gwendolyn Brooks “The School Among Ruins” by Adrienne Rich “The Siren Song” by Margaret Atwood “C’mon Pigs of Western Civilization/Eat More Grease” by Alan Ginsberg “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver “A Story about the Body” by Robert Hass “After Years” & “So This is Nebraska” by Ted Kooser “Flouder” by Natasha Tretheway Name: ______________________________________________ Class Period: ______ !1 Li Po (Li Bai) (701 AD - 762 AD,) (Originally in Chinese) Autumn River Song Poem The moon shimmers in green water. White herons fly through the moonlight. The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts: into the night, singing, they paddle home together. Alone Looking At The Mountain All the birds have flown up and gone; A lonely cloud floats leisurely by. We never tire of looking at each other - Only the mountain and I. Alone And Drinking Under The Moon Amongst the flowers I am alone with my pot of wine drinking by myself; then lifting my cup I asked the moon to drink with me, its reflection and mine in the wine cup, just the three of us; then I sigh for the moon cannot drink, and my shadow goes emptily along with me never saying a word; with no other friends here, I can but use these two for company; in the time of happiness, I too must be happy with all around me; I sit and sing and it is as if the moon accompanies me; then if I dance, it is my shadow that dances along with me; while still not drunk, I am glad to make the moon and my shadow into friends, but then when I have drunk too much, we all part; yet these are friends I can always count on these who have no emotion whatsoever; I hope that one day we three will meet again, deep in the Milky Way. !2 Thomas Wyatt (Unknown ~1557) Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, hélas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore, Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain There is written, her fair neck round about: Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame. William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Sonnet 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee. Sonnet 29 When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee—and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. !3 Sonnet 138 When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed. But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? Oh, love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told. Therefore I lie with her and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flattered be. John Donne (1572-1631) 10. Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for, thou are not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy’, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. !4 John Milton (1608-1674) When I Consider How My Light is Spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; “Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed And post o'er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait." Phillis Wheatley, 1753 - 1784 To the Right Honourable William, Earl of Dartmouth HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, By feeling hearts alone best understood, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate The northern clime beneath her genial ray, Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat: Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway: What pangs excruciating must molest, Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast? Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns, Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d While in thine hand with pleasure we behold That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d: The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms unfold. Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies Others may never feel tyrannic sway? She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due, Soon as appear’d the Goddess long desir’d, And thee we ask thy favours to renew, Sick at the view, she languish’d and expir’d; Since in thy pow’r, as in thy will before, Thus from the splendors of the morning light To sooth the griefs, which thou did’st once deplore. The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night. May heav’nly grace the sacred sanction give No more, America, in mournful strain To all thy works, and thou for ever live Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain, Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Though praise immortal crowns the patriot’s name, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand But to conduct to heav’ns refulgent fane, Had made, and with it meant t’ enslave the land. May fiery coursers sweep th’ ethereal plain, Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.

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