Old Poets If I should live in a forest And sleep underneath a tree, No grove of impudent saplings Would make a home for me. I’d go where the old oaks gather, Serene and good and strong, And they would not sigh and tremble And vex me with a song. The pleasantest sort of poet…
1900s
HOW TO DIE by Siegfried Sassoon
Aunt Helen by T. S. Eliot
Aunt Helen Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt, And lived in a small house near a fashionable square Cared for by servants to the number of four. Now when she died there was silence in heaven And silence at her end of the street. The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet?…
Ashes of Life by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Ashes of Life Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike; Eat I must, and sleep I will,?and would that night were here! But ah!?to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike! Would that it were day again!?with twilight near! Love has gone and left me and I don’t know…
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN by Robert Frost
Robert Frost (1874-1963) THE ROAD NOT TAKEN by Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair,…
A REBEL by John Gould Fletcher
A REBEL by John Gould Fletcher (1886-1950) Tie a bandage over his eyes, And at his feet Let rifles drearily patter Their death-prayers of defeat. Throw a blanket over his body, It need no longer stir; Truth will but stand the stronger For all who died for her. Now he has broken through To his…
ON THE RIVER by William Vaughn Moody
ON THE RIVER by William Vaughn Moody The faint stars wake and wonder, Fade and find heart anew; Above us and far under Sphereth the watchful blue. Silent she sits, outbending, A wild pathetic grace, A beauty strange, heart-rending, Upon her hair and face. O spirit cries that sever The cricket’s level drone! O to…
The Blind by Sara Teasdale
The Blind by Sara Teasdale The birds are all a-building, They say the world’s a-flower, And still I linger lonely Within a barren bower. I weave a web of fancies Of tears and darkness spun. How shall I sing of sunlight Who never saw the sun? I hear the pipes a-blowing, But yet I may…
After Apple-picking by Robert Frost
One of the greatest American Poets. Robert Frost (1874-1963). He won 4 Pulitzer Prizes for his poetry.