He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
"Dulce et Decorum Est"
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
"The Man He Killed
Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
"There is no Frigate Like a Book"
There is no Frigate like a book
To take us Lands away
"A Hymn to God the Father"
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which is my sin, though it were done before?
"Meeting at Night"
The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
Nothing is so beautiful as spring---
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
All I know is a door into the dark.
Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting;
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
"It Sifts From Leaden Sieves"
It sifts from Leaden Sieves---
It powders all the Wood.
"The Author to Her Book"
Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth did'st by my side remain,
"A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning"
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
"Introduction to Poetry"
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
"The Road Not Taken"
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
"A Noiseless Patient Spider"
A noiseless patient spider,
I marked where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,
Let me once know.
"Much Madness is Divinest Sense"
Much Madness is divinest Sense---
To a discerning Eye---
"The Chimney Sweeper"
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
"Batter my heart, three-personed God" (Holy Sonnet XIV)
Batter my heart, three-personed God: for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
"The History Teacher"
Trying to protect his students' innocence
he told them the Ice Age was really just
"My Last Duchess"
That's my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
spring when the world is mud-
"On His Blindness"
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
"My Son the Man"
Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider,
the way Houdini would expand his body
"Loveliest of Trees"
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
"Crossing the Bar"
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
The sea is calm tonight,
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Once I am sure there's nothing going on
I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
He stood, and heard the steeple
Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town.
When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
"That time of year" (Sonnet 73)
That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
"Death, be not proud" (Holy Sonnet X)
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
Glory be to God for dappled things---
For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow;
"A Poison Tree"
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
"When I have fears that I may cease to be"
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain,
"Ode on a Grecian Urn"
Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Having been tenant long to a rich Lord,
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him: