First Fig
[ranking: 3]
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends?? It gives a lovely light! Author: Edna St. Vincent Millay
Death Be Not Proud
[ranking: 28]
Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,And soonest our best men with thee do go,Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,And poppy or charms can make us sleep as wellAnd better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?One short sleep past, we wake eternallyAnd death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. Author: John Gunther
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
[ranking: 21]
Because I could not stop for Death ?C He kindly stopped for me ?C The Carriage held but just Ourselves ?C And Immortality.
We slowly drove ?C He knew no hasteAnd I had put awayMy labor and my leisure too,For His Civility ?C
We passed the School, where Children stroveAt Recess ?C in the Ring ?C We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain ?C We passed the Setting Sun ?C
Or rather ?C He passed us ?C The Dews drew quivering and chill ?C For only Gossamer, my Gown ?C My Tippet ?C only Tulle ?C
We paused before a House that seemedA Swelling of the Ground ?C The Roof was scarcely visible ?C The Cornice ?C in the Ground ?C
Since then ?C ??tis Centuries ?C and yetFeels shorter than the DayI first surmised the Horses?? Heads Were toward Eternity ?C Author: Emily Dickinson
Trees
[ranking: 5]
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst the earth??s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wearA nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,But only God can make a tree. Author: Joyce Kilmer
The World Is Too Much With Us
[ranking: 23]
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 wreath??d horn. Author: William Wordsworth
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
[ranking: 16]
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 theyDo not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir 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 sightBlind 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,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. Author: Dylan Thomas
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