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1 GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

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 5

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; 10

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, 15

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

2. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 5

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: 10

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

3. Ode on a Grecian Urn

JOHN KEATS

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

Sylvan 1 historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape 5

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? 10

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 15

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20

1Of the woodland.

First published in Annals of the Fine Arts, December, 1819. Reprinted with minor changes in John Keats, Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems in 1820.

595 596

III

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearièd,

For ever piping songs for ever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love! 25

For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,

For ever panting, and for ever young—

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 30

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

And all her silken flanks with garlands dressed?

What little town by river or sea shore, 35

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e’er return. 40

O Attic 2 shape! Fair attitude! with brede

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! 45

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’

4. On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer 1

JOHN KEATS

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty 2 to Apollo 3 hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told 5

That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne,4

Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold.

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken; 10

Or like stout Cortez 5 when with eagle eyes

He stared at the Pacific—and all his men

Looked at each other with a wild surmise—

Silent, upon a peak in Darien.6

5. Harlem [2]

LANGSTON HUGHES

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run? 5

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load. 10

Or does it explode?

[1951]

6. Journey of the Magi

T. S. ELIOT

‘A cold coming we had of it,

Just the worst time of the year

For a journey, and such a long journey:

The ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter.’ 5

And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,

Lying down in the melting snow.

There were times we regretted

The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

And the silken girls bringing sherbet. 10

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,

And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,

And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly

And the villages dirty and charging high prices: 15

A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,

Sleeping in snatches,

With the voices singing in our ears, saying

That this was all folly. 20

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet; below the snow line, smelling of vegetation,

With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,

And three trees on the low sky. 1

And an old white horse 2 galloped away in the meadow. 25

Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,

1In Luke 23:33 there are three crosses on the hill of Calvary where Christ was crucified, the middle one for Jesus, the other two for thieves.

2Revelation 6:2 depicts Christ riding to judgment on a white horse.

605 606

Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,3

And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.

But there was no information, and so we continued

And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon 30

Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for 35

Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, 40

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.

[1927]

3In Matthew 26:15, Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. In Matthew 27:35, the soldiers cast lots at the crucifixion to determine who gets Christ’s robes.

7. Journey of the Magi

T. S. ELIOT

‘A cold coming we had of it,

Just the worst time of the year

For a journey, and such a long journey:

The ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter.’ 5

And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,

Lying down in the melting snow.

There were times we regretted

The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

And the silken girls bringing sherbet. 10

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,

And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,

And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly

And the villages dirty and charging high prices: 15

A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,

Sleeping in snatches,

With the voices singing in our ears, saying

That this was all folly. 20

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet; below the snow line, smelling of vegetation,

With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,

And three trees on the low sky. 1

And an old white horse 2 galloped away in the meadow. 25

Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,

1In Luke 23:33 there are three crosses on the hill of Calvary where Christ was crucified, the middle one for Jesus, the other two for thieves.

2Revelation 6:2 depicts Christ riding to judgment on a white horse.

605 606

Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,3

And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.

But there was no information, and so we continued

And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon 30

Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for 35

Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, 40

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.

[1927]

3In Matthew 26:15, Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. In Matthew 27:35, the soldiers cast lots at the crucifixion to determine who gets Christ’s robes.

8. Africa

MAYA ANGELOU

Thus she had lain

sugar cane sweet

deserts her hair

golden her feet

mountains her breasts 5

two Niles her tears

Thus she has lain

Black through the years.

Over the white seas

rime white and cold 10

brigands ungentled

icicle bold

took her young daughters

sold her strong sons

churched her with Jesus 15

bled her with guns.

Thus she has lain.

Now she is rising

remember her pain 20

remember the losses

her screams loud and vain

remember her riches

her history slain

now she is striding 25

although she had lain.

[1975]

9. My Mistress’ Eyes are Nothing Like the Sun

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked red and white, 5

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 10

I grant I never saw a goddess go:

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

[1609]

First published in the 1609 Shake-speares sonnets.

10.Mirror

SYLVIA PLATH

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful—

The eye of a little god, four-cornered. 5

Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.

It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long

I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.

Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, 10

Searching my reaches for what she really is.

Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.

I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.

She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.

I am important to her. She comes and goes. 15

Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.

In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman

Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

[1963]

11.The Tyger

WILLIAM BLAKE

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies 5

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 10

And, when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp 15

Dare its deadly terror clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 20

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

[1794]

First published in Songs of Experience in 1794.

12.London

WILLIAM BLAKE

I wander through each chartered street,1

Near where the chartered Thames does flow,

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every man, 5

In every infant’s cry of fear,

In every voice, in every ban,

The mind-forged manacles I hear.

How the chimney-sweeper’s cry 2

Every black’ning church appalls 10

And the hapless soldier’s sigh

Runs in blood down palace walls.

But most through midnight streets I hear

How the youthful harlot’s curse

Blasts the new born infant’s tear 15

And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.

[1794]

1Chartered can mean mapped, but it can also mean constricted, under control. The use of the word in line 2 refers to the chartered Thames, meaning that the river is hemmed by ugly buildings and streets.

2Small boys had to go through the city crying out “Chimneys swept,” but also cried because they were forced to do dirty and dangerous work because they were small enough to go up (or down) chimneys.

First published in Songs of Experience in 1794.

13.I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 5

fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay: 10

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay, 15

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood, 20

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

[1807]

Composed in 1803. First published in Poems in Two Volumes in 1807.

14.Composed Upon Westminster Bridge

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth, like a garment, wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 5

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; 10

Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

15. I’m Nobody! Who are you?

EMILY DICKINSON

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Are you–Nobody–too?

Then there’s a pair of us!

Dont tell! they’d advertise–you know!

How dreary–to be–Somebody! 5

How public–like a Frog–

To tell one’s name–the livelong June–

To an admiring Bog!

[c. 1861]

Reprinted from The Poems of Emily Dickinson, by permission of the publisher and the Trustees of Amherst College. Copyright © 1998, 1951, 1955, 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College.

16. After great pain, a formal feeling comes–

EMILY DICKINSON

After great pain, a formal feeling comes–

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs–

The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’

And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round– 5

A Wooden way

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought–

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone–

This is the Hour of Lead– 10

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow–

First–Chill–then Stupor–then the letting go–

[c. 1862]

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17. The Negro Speaks of Rivers

LANGSTON HUGHES

I’ve known rivers:

I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the

flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. 5

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln

went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy

bosom turn all golden in the sunset. 10

I’ve known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

[1921, 1926]

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18.I, Too

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, 5

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I’ll be at the table

When company comes. 10

Nobody’ll dare

Say to me,

“Eat in the kitchen,”

Then.

Besides, 15

They’ll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

[1925]

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19.Fire and Ice

ROBERT FROST

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice, 5

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

[1920]

First appeared in Harper's Magazine, December 1920. First collected in New Hampshire in 1923.

20.My Arkansas

MAYA ANGELOU

There is a deep brooding

in Arkansas.

Old crimes like moss pend

from poplar trees.

The sullen earth 5

is much too

red for comfort.

Sunrise seems to hesitate

and in that second

lose its 10

incandescent aim, and

dusk no more shadows

than the noon.

The past is brighter yet.

Old hates and 15

ante-bellum lace are rent

but not discarded.

Today is yet to come

in Arkansas.

It writhes. It writhes in awful 20

waves of brooding.

[1978]

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