We need to write a synthesis paper and also choose the topic there are some poems attached to help generate the topic for this paper. We need at least 4 peer reviewed scholarly journal articles for the assignment.

These attached poems are only to help generate a topic. We are not analyzing the poem or discussing why the author wrote it. Once we have our topic, we need to write to that point. 

The World Is Too Much With Us

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

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 be

A 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 wreathèd horn.

Liberty Needs Glasses

By Tupac

excuse me but lady liberty needs glasses and so does mrs justice by her side both the broads r blind as bats stumbling thru the system justice bumbed into mutulu and trippin on geronimo pratt but stepped right over oliver and his crooked partner ronnie justice stubbed her big toe on mandela and liberty was misquoted by the indians slavery was a learning phase forgotten with out a verdict while justice is on a rampage 4 endangered surviving black males i mean really if anyone really valued life and cared about the masses theyd take em both 2 pen optical and get 2 pair of glasses

I, Too

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I’ll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody’ll dare

Say to me,

“Eat in the kitchen,”

Then.

Besides,

They’ll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

Old And New

Poem by Dejan Stojanovic

If an ancient man saw planes two thousand years ago He would've thought they were birds Or angels from another world Or messengers from other planets. Every new machine would have surprised him— The car, TV, radio, phone, camera. He would've thought he was a savage Who didn't understand. If he saw a computer, Watching people talking on the internet, He would have thought it was a civilization Much more advanced and ahead of his. And if he stayed longer among the messengers He would have learned that every child had the knowledge And understanding of these things Or how to use all of them. Yet, after a while, he would have noticed That none of them were advanced enough To be labeled as those who know more Than the one who said: I know nothing.

The New Colossus

BY 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 stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With 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!”

Caged Bird

BY MAYA ANGELOU

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind   

and floats downstream   

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and   

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

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