“The World Is Too Much with Us”William Wordsworth:(1807)

The world is too much with us; late and soon,Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;Little we see in Nature that is ours;We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,The winds that will be howling at all hours,And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,For this, for everything, we are out of tune;It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather beA Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

“Ozymandias”1817Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

I met a Traveler from an antique land, Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings." Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair! No thing beside remains. Round the decay Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.

“She Walks in Beauty”by Lord Byron (George Gordon)

She walks in beauty, like the night    Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright    Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light    Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,    Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,    Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,    How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,    So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow,    But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below,    A heart whose love is innocent!

“Eighth Air Force”1969by Randall Jarrell If, in an odd angle of the hutment, A puppy laps the water from a can Of flowers, and the drunk sergeant shaving   Whistles O Paradiso!—shall I say that man   Is not as men have said: a wolf to man?

The other murderers troop in yawning;   Three of them play Pitch, one sleeps, and one   Lies counting missions, lies there sweating   Till even his heart beats: One; One; One. O murderers! ... Still, this is how it’s done:

This is a war.... But since these play, before they die,   Like puppies with their puppy; since, a man, I did as these have done, but did not die— I will content the people as I can And give up these to them: Behold the man!

I have suffered, in a dream, because of him,   Many things; for this last saviour, man, I have lied as I lie now. But what is lying? Men wash their hands, in blood, as best they can:   I find no fault in this just man

“The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner” by Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

“SONNET 29”William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless criesAnd look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,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 remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

“SONNET 91”William Shakespeare

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force,Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure;All these I better in one general best.Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks or horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:   Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take   All this away and me most wretched make.

“Because I could not stop for Death” (712)by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me –  The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no hasteAnd I had put awayMy labor and my leisure too,For His Civility – 

We passed the School, where Children stroveAt Recess – in the Ring –  We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –  We passed the Setting Sun – 

Or rather – He passed us – The Dews drew quivering and chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle – 

We paused before a House that seemedA Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – 

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yetFeels shorter than the DayI first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –

“Ode To Enchanted Light”Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light has dropped from the top of the sky,light like a green latticework of branches,shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand.

A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air.

The world is a glass overflowing with water.“The Road Not Taken”1920Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.

“Harlem Night Song”Langston Hughes

Come,Let us roam the night togetherSinging.

I love you.

AcrossThe Harlem roof-topsMoon is shining.Night sky is blue.Stars are great dropsOf golden dew.

Down the streetA band is playing.

I love you.

Come,Let us roam the night togetherSinging.“Dreams”Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreamsFor if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.

“Dream Deferred”Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry upLike a raisin in the sun?Or fester like a sore--And then run?Does it stink like rotten meat?Or crust and sugar over--like a syrupy sweet?Maybe it just sagslike a heavy load.Or does it explode?

“The New Colossus”Emma Lazarus Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,With conquering limbs astride from land to land;Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall standA mighty woman with a torch, whose flameIs the imprisoned lightning, and her nameMother of Exiles. From her beacon-handGlows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes commandThe air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame."Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries sheWith silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

“Grandma Ling” Amy Ling 

If you dig that hole deep enough, you’ll reach China, they used to tell me, a child in a back yard in Pennsylvania. Not strong enough to dig that hole, 

I waited twenty years, then sailed back, half way around the world. In Taiwan I first met Grandma. Before she came to view, I heard her slippered feet softly measure the tatami floor with even step; the aqua paper-covered door slid open and there I faced my five foot height, sturdy legs and feet, square forehead, high cheeks and wide-set eyes; my image stood before me, acted on by fifty years. 

She smiled, stretched her arms to take to heart the eldest daughter of her youngest son a quarter century away. She spoke a tongue I knew no word of, and I was sad I could not understand, but I could hug her.

“The Choice”

Dorothy Parker

He'd have given me rolling lands,Houses of marble, and billowing farms,Pearls, to trickle between my hands,Smoldering rubies, to circle my arms.You- you'd only a lilting song,Only a melody, happy and high,You were sudden and swift and strong-Never a thought for another had I.

He'd have given me laces rare,Dresses that glimmered with frosty sheen,Shining ribbons to wrap my hair,Horses to draw me, as fine as a queen.You- you'd only to whistle low,Gayly I followed wherever you led.I took you, and I let him go-Somebody ought to examine my head!

“DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS”by: W.B. Yeats

OWN by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.   In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.