Poems and Quotes of those I Admire
Do not go Gentle into that Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
I'm Nobody!
How dreary-to be-Somebody!
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In what distant deeps or skies
And what shoulder, and what art,
In what furnace was thy brain?
When the stars threw down their spears,
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
Whose woods these are I think I know.
My little horse must think it queer
He gives his harness bells a shake
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And both that morning equally lay
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Some say the world will end in fire,
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise-you know!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell one's name-the livelong June-
To an admiring Bog!
--Emily Dickinson
The Tyger
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
--William Blake
Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
--Robert Frost
The Road Not Taken
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
In 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.
Somewhere 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.
--Robert Frost
Fire and Ice
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,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
--Robert Frost
Excerpt from Annabel Lee
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE:
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea-
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
--Edgar Allan Poe