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POEMS COLLETION

POETRY CLASS

LONDON
By William Blake (1757-1827)

I wandered through each chartered street

Near where the chartered Thames does flow
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, mark of woe.

In every cry of every man

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

Every blackening Church appalls
And the hapless soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Police walls

But most, through midnight street I hear

How the youthful harlot’s curse
Blasts the new born infant’s tear
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse

Written in March
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

The cock is crowing

The stream is flowing
The small Bird twitter
The lake doth glitter,
The Green field sleeps in the sun; 5
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising:
There are forty feeding like one! 10
Like an Army defeated
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The snow hath retreated,

And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping-anon-anon: 15
There’s joy in the Mountain;
There’s life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone! 20

Meeting at Night
Robert Browning (1812-1889)

The gray sea and the long black land:

And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the Love with pushing prow,
And quench its speed in the slushy sand.

The a mile of warm sea-scented beach:

Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch,
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro’ joys and fears
Than two hearts beating each to each!

Parting at Morning
Robert Browning (1812-1889)

Round the cape of a sudden came to the sea,

And the sun looked over the mountain’s rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of man for me.
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The Rainbow
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky
So was it when my life began,
So isi t when I am a man,
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

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,
Flattering and dancing in the breese.

Continous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of bay:
Ten thousand saw I at glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: --
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed- bu little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought

For oft when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye,
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
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And dances with the daffodils.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost (1812-1889)

Whose woods these are I think I know. (a)

His house is in the village though; (a)
He will not see me stopping here (b)
To watch his woods fill up with snow. (a)

My little horse must think it queer (b)

To stop without a farmhouse near (b)
Between the woods and frozen lake (c)
The darkest evening of the year. (b)

He gives his harness bells a shake (c)

To ask if there is some mistake. (c)
The only other sound’s the sweep (d)
Of easy wind and downy flake. (c)

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, (d)

But I have promises to keep (d)
And miles to go before I sleep, (d)
And miles to go before I sleep.(d)

Lord Randall
Ballad, anonymous

“Oh where ha’e ye been, Lord Randall my son?

O where ha’e ye been, my handsome young man?”
“I ha’e been to wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fainwald lie down.”

“Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?

Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome man?”
“I dined wi’ my true love, mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fainwald lie down.”

“Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son?

Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome man?”
“I gat eels boiled in broo: mother make my bed soon,
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For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fainwald lie down.”

“What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randall my son?

What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?”

“O they swelled and they died mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.”

“O I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall my son!

O I hear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!”
“O yes, I am poisoned mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.”

FRANKIE AND JOHNNY

(Anonymous)

Frankie and Johnny were lovers, O, how that couple could love.
Swore to be true to each other, true as the stars above.
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie she was his woman, everybody knows.

She spent one hundred dollars for a suit of Johnny’s clothes.
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie and Johnny went walking, Johnny’s in his brand new suit,
“O good Lawd,” says Frankie, “but don’t my Johnny look cute?”
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie went down to Memphis; she went on the evening train.

She paid one hundred dollars for Johnny a watch and chain.
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie went down to the corner, to buy a Glass of beer;

She says to the fat bartender, “Has my loving man been here?
He was her man, but he done me wrong.

“Ain’t going to tell you no story, ain’t going to tell you no lie,
I seen your man ‘bout an hour ago with a girl named Alice Fry.
If he’s your man, he’s doing you wrong.”

Frankie went back to the hotel, she didn’t go there for fun,
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Under her long red kimono she toted a forty-four gun.

He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie threw back her kimono; took out the old forty-four;
There was her lovin’ Johnny a-lovin’ up Alice Fry;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie threw back her kimono; took out the old forty-four;
Roota-toot-toot, Three times she shot, right through that hotel door.
She shot her man, ‘cause he done her wrong.

Johnny grabbed off his Stetson. “O good Lawd, Frankie, don’t shoot.”
But Frankie put her finger on the trigger, and the gun went roota-toot-toot.
He was her man, but she shot him down.

“Roll me over easy, roll me over slow,

Roll me over easy, boys, ‘cause my wounds are hurting mes o,
I was her man, but I done her wrong.”

With the first shot Johnny staggered; with the second shot he fell;
When the Third buklet hit him, there was a new man’s face in hell.
He was your man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie heard a rumbling away down under the ground.

Maybe it was Johnny where she had shot him down.
He was her man, but she done him wrong.

“Oh, bring on your Rubber-tired hearses, bring on your Rubber-tired hacks,

They’re takin’ my Johnny to the buryin’ groun’ but they’ll never bring him
back.
He was my man, but he done me wrong.”

The Judge he said to the jury, “It’s pelain as pelain can be.
This woman shot her man, so it’s murder in the second degree.
He was her man, though he done her wrong.”

Now it wasn’t murder in the second degree, it wasn’t murder in the Third.
Frankie Simply dropped her man, like a hunter drops a bird.
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

“Oh, put me in that dungeon. Oh, put me in the cell.

Put me where the northeast wind blows from the Southeast corner of hell.
I shot my man ‘cause he done me wrong.”
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REMEMBER
(Christina Rossetti)

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

Randy Lee Merrell

The sun rose to illuminate a normal day,

Though with horror it set in the west.
Americans living in Freedom,
Went to work to achieve their best.

The nightmare began in mid-morning

As crazed terrorists worked out their plan.
Promised to sit in the glory with Allah,
It’s with Satan tonight that they stand.

What better way to spread terror,

Than steal airliners filled with innocents.
And fly them into New York’s tall buildings,
Killing all in their path as they went.

Our nation’s Capital was targeted next,

As evil spread its dark cloud.
Our Pentagon was next in line,
To be covered by evil’s dark shroud.
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Another aircraft full of innocents,

Was crashed for no cause at all.
Other than for the sake of pure murder,
For terror to spread its dark pall.

Let us mourn for the dead martyrs,

But rejoice for them as well.
By the thousands they stand with God tonight,
While their murderers languish in hell.

Pray for the poor souls they left behind,

Their families and loved ones bereaved.
Life must go on and our Country stay strong,
For no victory by evil will be achieved.

God will see that out martyrs are avenged,

By His mighty hand or our own.
The acts of evil commited today,
Are something he will not condone.

We must learn from this day and be stronger,

To honor the innocent dead.
We must go on with life with dignity,
And show evil that we have no dread.